They talked all the way until morning.
Dobby diligently prepared breakfast.
Wangcai crouched on the stair railing, clutching a Galleon in his paws. This was compensation for Dobby disturbing his sleep last night.
When he saw Douglas coming downstairs, he immediately hid the Galleon against his chest, his posture suggesting that Douglas had no integrity whatsoever.
Douglas walked past and flicked Wangcai on the forehead before he could even react.
After breakfast, Dobby excitedly continued studying his elven script.
Douglas, meanwhile, took several novels he had written in the Muggle World years ago and went down to the basement.
The moment he opened the door.
A cold, hoarse voice growled.
"I knew it, I knew it. You wouldn't leave me in peace for more than twenty-four hours."
Douglas walked over to the table, ignoring the mass of Red Mist.
First, he checked the motherboard chip for problems.
The chip had been upgraded again, and even the coolant used inside was made from Potions ingredients.
"How are you feeling after a night's rest?"
Red Mist said coldly, "If you were repeatedly compressed into those motherboard circuits, how long do you think you'd need to recover?"
Douglas acted as though he hadn't heard his complaint. "So, pretty good."
"Holmes!"
Red Mist growled.
Douglas pulled up a chair and sat down, saying with a sneer:
"If you've gained a new understanding of pain, you can write a paper about it. There's no need to use me as punctuation."
He took out his books.
"Your sense of humor has recovered somewhat today, which means yesterday's experiment didn't cause you permanent damage..."
Red Mist slithered along the walls of the chamber imprisoning him.
"No permanent damage? Try stuffing part of your consciousness into that damned computer chip, then forcibly sustaining those damned components with magic.