Lin Ze took the wand and clicked on the bed sheet, and the bed sheet flew up from the bed like a butterfly that had been given life, twisted twice in the air, and then turned into a blue skirt.
The skirt style is very simple, just the most ordinary cotton dress.
He waved his wand at another sheet, and the sheet turned into an off-white sweater.
Then another pair of thick cotton socks came out.
Finally, he looked at the only wooden chair in the room, hesitated, and finally tapped the back of the chair with his wand.
The legs of the chair clicked and shrank Transfiguration, and finally turned into a pair of small leather shoes, with traces of wood grain still remaining on the uppers.
Aila stood at the door, looking at the pile of clothes conjured out of thin air in front of him, his mouth opened wide and his eyes widened.
She subconsciously took a step back, and her back hit the door panel with a dull thud.
"You... you are... how did you do that?" Her voice was shaking badly.
Only then did Lin Ze realize that the girl in front of him was indeed an Obscurial, but she had grown up among Muggle and knew nothing about magic.
"Oh, this." He twirled the wand between his fingers and inserted it back into his waist.
"It's called magic."
"Magic?" Aila repeated the word, as if she was speaking a foreign word that no one had ever taught her.
"Yes, magic." Lin Ze walked up to her, squatted down and looked at her level.
"The power in your body is also a kind of magic, but... well... it is more special and difficult to control."
Aila subconsciously looked down at his hands.
"So... I'm not a monster?"
"Monster?"
Lin Ze raised his eyebrows, "If you are a monster, then who am I?"
Aila's eyes were red again, but she tried her best not to cry.
"I'm not a monster..." she whispered, as if to convince herself.
"Of course not, okay, hurry up and take a shower." Lin Ze patted her head and stuffed the pile of clothes into her arms.
Aila hugged his clothes and stood there without moving.
"What happened again?"
"I... I... I probably won't use your bathroom..." she whispered.
"Who told you this was a magic hotel?" Lin Ze pointed in the direction of the door.
"The person downstairs is Muggle, um... that means ordinary people, you go ask her."
Aila nodded, carefully opened the door while holding his clothes, and walked out.
Lin Ze watched her leave, then turned around and threw herself on the bed.
The mattress made a shrill creaking sound, protesting his rough behavior.
He was thinking about what was coming next.
Karkaroff was not found, but Obscurial was picked up.
This trip to Norway, how should I put it, the plan can't keep up with the changes.
But having said that, although the dark parasitic power of Obscurus is dangerous, if it can be controlled, the host's own magic power is definitely not comparable to that of ordinary wizards.
Lin Ze has seen the scene when Aila went berserk.
Black energy was overwhelming, the surrounding temperature dropped sharply, and the air within a radius of more than ten meters was trembling.
If that level of magic power could be used by him...
Of course, that's assuming she can learn to control it.
It's just... Obscurial's lifespan is generally not more than ten years old.
But since it is general, it does not rule out that there are exceptions.
Aberforth's son Credence lived to adulthood. In addition to the blood from Dumbledore family flowing in his own blood, he also had some kind of abnormal "symbiotic" relationship with Obscurus in his body.
Maybe...
Newt·Scamander can know the key here.
This Magizoologist rescued an Obscurial girl from Sudan. Although he failed to save her life in the end, his understanding of Obscurus was definitely one of the best in the world.
But this person Newt has an elusive whereabouts and travels all over the world all year round. It is not easy to find him.
Lin Ze Just as he was thinking, there was a slight sound of footsteps outside the door.
Then the door was pushed open a crack, and Aila poked half of his head out of the crack.
"That..."
"What's wrong?"
"I... I'm not very good at turning that faucet..." Her voice became smaller and smaller as she spoke, and a blush appeared on her face.
Lin Ze sighed and got up from the bed.
"Come on, I'll help you screw it."
He followed Aila to the bathroom door at the end of the corridor.
He opened the door, walked to the edge of the bathtub, bent down and showed her how to turn on the faucet.
"On the left, hot water. On the right, cold water. First mix the cold water and then the hot water, otherwise it will burn easily. Remember?"
Aila nodded vigorously, then Lin Ze left the bathroom and closed the door.
Lin Ze was leaning against the wall in the corridor, listening to the sound of running water from the bathroom, and thinking about whether he should go to the warehouse that Mr. K mentioned and spend another day squatting there tomorrow.
What if Karkaroff just goes out temporarily?
Just as he was thinking about it, a loud noise suddenly came from downstairs.
Someone was arguing loudly in Norway, with the boss's wife's loud voice in between.
Lin Ze walked to the stairs curiously and took a look down.
Then he saw a person who he never dreamed would appear here.
A man wearing a dark cloak is standing in front of the bar. His hair is dark brown and greasy. When he smiles, he reveals a set of teeth that are not neat. Most importantly, he has a goatee on his chin.
Lin Ze has seen this face at least a dozen times in the wanted posters that Records Management Office has read, and he can draw it with his eyes closed.
The man was talking to the landlady in Norway with a strong Eastern European accent.
The landlady put her hands on her hips and spoke so loudly that the whole hotel could hear her.
"Mom, this is a hotel. If you want to stay, you have to pay. If you don't want to stay, get out. Don't hinder my business here!"
Lin Ze The corners of his mouth turned up.
He reached into his pocket, tightened his grip on his wand, and walked slowly down the stairs.
"Lady boss, bring me a cup of coffee and two pieces of sugar."
His voice was not loud, but every word was clear in the noisy tavern.
The man at the bar turned his head sharply.
Their eyes met in the air.
Igor·Karkaroff.
Karkaroff feels that he has been very lucky recently.
After the fall of Voldemort, he ran away immediately, without even having time to say hello to Durmstrang's uncle, the principal.
Facts have proved that his judgment was completely correct.
Less than three days after the death of Dark Lord, Britain began to arrest Death Eaters on a large scale, sifting through the entire Wizarding World like flour.
But who is he Igor·Karkaroff?
He has been in Northern Europe for most of his life. There are as many hiding places as there are in Gnome. If you look for a corner and dig into it, you can't find it even if you are exhausted by Auror.
For the past few days, he has been hiding in the basement of a warehouse owned by his cousin's company.
However, the life in the basement was too damn monotonous. All he could do was stare at the cracks in the floor and play with the small objects he brought from Britain to Dark Magic.
Moreover, his stingy cousin didn't even have a bottle of decent wine in the supplies he prepared for him. They were all black bread and canned salted fish, which left a fishy taste in his mouth.
Today he couldn't bear it anymore.
He wants to have a drink, preferably Firewhisky, but if not, Butterbeer will do.
So he climbed out of the basement, wrapped himself in a cloak, and wandered to this seemingly inconspicuous little hotel.
Who would have thought that as soon as he walked in, he would encounter a boss lady with a voice as loud as a banshee, and she insisted on making him pay first.
There is Galleon in him, but he is not stupid. Using gold to pay bills in such a small place can easily arouse others' suspicion and expose his whereabouts.
He wanted to live here for a long time, so he discussed with the landlady about getting a glass of wine on credit.
But when the landlady saw him for the first time, she couldn't give him credit, so the two started to quarrel.
Then he heard the voice.
"Lady boss, bring me a cup of coffee and two pieces of sugar."
English.
Standard London accent.
In such a small port in Arctic Circle, the probability of hearing an London accent is about the same as meeting a dancing polar bear.
Karkaroff turned his head sharply.
But I saw a young man standing at the top of the stairs.
He has black hair, black eyes, and is wearing a dark gray wool blend jacket.
He looked very young, definitely no more than twenty years old, but those eyes looked at him with a knowingness that made him uncomfortable, as if he had known him for a long time.
"Who are you?" Karkaroff asked in English.