Gifts and a Mission

The renowned wand-making master Grigovich was just an elderly scholar with sparse, graying hair and a lingering smell of tung oil. He hung upside down in mid-air, his spine, hunched over from years of hunching over his desk, creaking under the strain.

His cheeks flushed crimson, Grigovich struggled to muster the last of his strength and raised his head to look at the fierce and ruthless England Witch before him. "Please, I'm willing to hand over my memories. You'll understand once you see them..."

Bellatrix glanced contemptuously at the struggling old man and covered her nose with some disgust.

The world-renowned wand maker swayed slightly in mid-air, his bloated body sweating profusely from fear, the sweat dripping from his head as he hung upside down. The smell of sweat mixed with tung oil filled the air, making people feel nauseous.

"Memories? I'll take a good look..."

Bellatrix smiled and casually waved her wand, casting, "[Bone-Crushing Cruciatus Curse]".

An ominous crimson light entered the old craftsman's body. Grigovich groaned, and the next moment, his screams and wails were blocked in his mouth and throat. The intense pain prevented him from making a sound.

The Magic Power of the Cruciatus Curse spread to every inch of the body. Muscles suddenly tensed, tendons and bones twisted and spasmed, blood vessels writhed like snakes and worms, and every pore felt as if it had been driven into an iron nail. Someone swung a giant hammer and kept hitting it. The intense pain made every bone and every joint have a sense of self, wanting to break free from the skin and muscles, tear the body apart, and be pulled out of the boundless pain.

Grigovich forced out a hoarse, hoarse sound from his throat:

"Spare me... please spare me..."

"Please... I didn't..."

"I really didn't..."

After an unknown amount of time, the old craftsman slumped down, his body weak and limp. His pupils were cloudy and unfocused, as if he could no longer see what was in front of him. His nostrils and mouth were slightly open, and he managed to squeeze out stagnant breaths from his trachea, but he had no strength left to inhale. He looked like he was on the verge of death.

Bellatrix stepped forward, her metallic hand gripping the old woman's neck like a suffocating, slippery fish. Her silver fingers tightened slightly, a cruel smile twisting her lips, "Now, let me see your memories..."

With heavy, labored breathing, the old craftsman's head was slightly lifted as his neck was pulled up. His cloudy eyes seemed fixed by some force, staring straight ahead, his pupils gradually dilating like two black holes, connecting to the depths of distant memories...

In the dimly lit attic corridor, a series of hurried footsteps sounded, and Grigovich, holding a lantern, strode into the scene. At that time, he was still a middle-aged craftsman, short and stout but strong, and agile.

Arriving at the room at the end of the corridor, which had a workspace hanging on it, Grigovich heard a noise coming from inside. His expression changed drastically, and he angrily pushed open the door.

The workshop was brightly lit, with sawdust and gold dust shimmering in the swaying light. A blond boy, handsome and graceful like an elegant bird, perched on the window.

The moment he met Grigovich's angry gaze, his handsome face lit up with joy. Then the uninvited guest cast a Stunning Spell with his wand, leaped out of the window, and left behind a series of loud laughs.

"Who is that thief, Grigovich?" Bellatrix's face darkened. The thought of having to take this memory back to the Dark Lord filled her eyes with barely suppressed murderous intent.

"I don't know, I never knew, a young man..."

"[Bone-Crushing Cruciatus Curse] "

The piercing groans rang out again, lingering for a long time.

12 Grimmauld Place, underground Kitchen.

A bright, blazing golden flame hovered above the long table, its dazzling light spilling into every corner of the dimly lit room. The quietly burning flame emitted a warm and gentle glow, requiring neither external Magic Power nor fuel.

Hermione stood beside the long table, her beautiful eyes sparkling in the light, and murmured softly:

"The Gubra'i Immortal Fire... an eternally burning flame..."

"This... is this my birthday present?" Loren looked at the golden flames floating in the air, burning quietly, a hint of amazement flashing in his eyes.

It is neither as Fiendfyre and violent as a Fiery Blaze, nor as weak as the Belladonna Flames.

The golden flames seemed to be a living Magical Creatures, with the Magic Power within flowing along special routes, just like the Magic Power within wizards and Fantastic Beasts, endless and inexhaustible.

"I'm so sorry, Loren, your birthday present is only being given to you now, almost two weeks late."

Dumbledore scratched his head in frustration and sighed, "I considered using owls to deliver it because it would be difficult, but the postmen all refused the job..."

"..."

Loren and Hermione ignored his muttered lame jokes and leaned closer to observe the so-called eternal flame that was said to never go out. Their breaths blew on it, and the flames floated and leaped, swaying gently like branches in the wind.

Hermione's clear eyes reflected the gently flickering flames, and a series of whimsical ideas suddenly popped into her little head:

If the Belladonna Flames were also released in this shape, it would seem to require less effort...

The trajectory of the staff tip's movement when casting Fire Charm can also be adjusted...

Loren watched the Gubra'i Immortal Fire burn steadily, lost in thought, his mind filled with many insights about fire:

By manipulating the Fiendfyre to Transfiguration and constructing a Magic Power cycle within the flames in a similar manner, the Fiendfyre should be able to burn brighter and longer... The slowly improving flame defense could also be improved by drawing inspiration from the Gubra'i Immortal Fire...

Looking into the children's bright eyes, Dumbledore smiled and said, "The Gubra'i Immortal Fire is not as precious as you think. It is just a lost magic. Ancient wizards often used it to maintain long-lasting lighting, as a substitute for torches, or placed it in fireplaces or on stoves. Many houses and tombs have traces of its burning."

"Hmm?" Hermione looked up, somewhat puzzled, and asked, "Since it's a commonly used spell, why was the Gubra'i Immortal Fire lost later?"

"Because wizards who use it regularly always have accidents."

"A curse?" Hermione blinked.

"It's a fire, isn't it?"

Loren's expression was subtle as he explained to the little Witch beside him, "The Gubra'i Immortal Fire never goes out. Over the years, even decades, it will inevitably cause an accident and start a fire when a wizard is not on guard. In addition, its characteristic of never going out..."

"..."

Hermione fell into deep thought.

"The Gubra'i Immortal Fire is gentle and stable, remaining in the same state for decades. This will lull wizards into a false sense of security, and by the time they realize it, the fire will be unstoppable." Dumbledore nodded. "However, you don't need to use it for daily heating and lighting; just store it separately in a regular candlestick."

Loren pondered for a moment, devising a plan for storing the flames in his mind. Then he looked up at Dumbledore and asked, "Headmaster, you said in your letter that you needed my help with something. What is it?"

"I need you to meet Hagrid for me..."