"Looks like the problem is solved?" Dumbledore asked.
Morris put away the energy crystal and gave a thumbs up. "Completely solved!"
The curse only stayed in his body for a few days, and the amount of life force it absorbed was negligible.
A good night's sleep should be enough to recover.
Dumbledore nodded, then said, "Then, Morris, can you tell me more about that Death Reaper?"
Morris had anticipated this problem.
All wizards are curious about the existence of Death, Dumbledore was no exception.
Morris then briefly recounted his encounter with Scrape.
Of course, he didn't explicitly state the existence of the Gap World, instead referring to it as "the desolate wilderness."
According to his account, the other party simply disliked him and started a fight, and that is indeed the case.
" Scrape?" Dumbledore said after hearing it. "That sounds like a nickname."
"Yes," Morris agreed, "I think so too."
It seems that even Dumbledore had never heard of this name.
Who exactly is this person?
After the treatment was completed, Morris returned to the Ship in a Bottle.
The first thing he did was study the Death Energy Crystal that had just condensed—that was the name he had given it.
The magic of Energy Gathering, as its name suggests, simply Energy Gathering together; it does not change the nature of the energy itself.
In other words, this bead does not contain pure magic, but a special kind of power.
Morris temporarily named it the Power of Death.
So the question is, what's the special use of this thing?
This will likely become his primary research topic going forward.
Time passed day by day.
August 22nd, noon.
Morris, as usual, came to Frick's restaurant for a free meal.
Watching Morris ruthlessly open his refrigerator and begin ransacking it, Frick leaned against the kitchen doorframe and sighed.
"You're the hottest flying broomstick designer right now!" he said. "Why do you always have to come here and steal my food?"
Without turning around, Morris rummaged through the refrigerator and pulled out a piece of bacon, half a block of cheese, and a few tomatoes, saying, "My refrigerator only contains desserts."
Occasionally, he also wants to eat a proper meal.
Oh, right, it's called a refrigerator, but it's actually just a magical cabinet with Preservation Charm on it.
As is widely known, there are no electrical appliances in the wizarding world.
"Speaking of which," Morris said casually, chewing on a tomato, "Where are your Grindylow fingers?"
He remembered that the refrigerator used to be crammed with those unappetizing fingers, but they disappeared sometime ago.
Frick's eyes widened immediately.
"Don't mention that to me!" he yelled. "That unscrupulous businessman actually put addictive drugs in it!"
His tone was full of anger.
Morris was somewhat speechless.
He knew perfectly well that there was no way such a bizarre ingredient could have a market.
Fortunately, he didn't try it out of curiosity.
Just then, Morris suddenly felt a slight vibration in the pocket of his robe.
He reached into his hand and pulled out a piece of paper— the Quidditch World Cup ticket that Ludo Bagman had given him earlier.
Several lines of small, gold-embossed text appeared directly below the ticket.
Reminder: Please arrive at the designated meeting point before 9:00 AM on August 23rd. The nearest Portkey point will be located nearby.
Below is a series of addresses.
Morris then remembered that the Quidditch World Cup was tomorrow; he had been so preoccupied with the Death Energy Crystal lately that he had completely forgotten about it.
Frick walked over and glanced at it, saying nostalgically, "Oh, Quidditch, I loved that sport when I was young. Back then, I was the substitute's substitute's substitute for the Chudley Cannons."
"Your life must have been quite colorful when you were young."
Morris glanced at him and put the ticket back in his pocket.
He will definitely go to the Quidditch World Cup.
It might even give him some inspiration to make a flying broom.
Morris intended to Apparition to the location of the Quidditch World Cup, but he didn't know its exact location.
Therefore, the Portkey is the only option.
The next morning, Morris walked for a while and found the Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup camp in a secluded alley—a dirty tin barrel.
When he arrived, the Portkey was already in the hand of a strange man.
The man was wearing a dark green travel cloak with the hood pulled low, revealing only the lower half of his face.
Hearing footsteps, he turned around, his tone very friendly, "Good morning, there are five minutes left before the Portkey expires."
Morris nodded and stopped a few steps away from the other person.
The other party seemed to have no ill intentions; they simply waited quietly, occasionally glancing up at the sky.
Several more people arrived one after another.
A witch carrying a bulging bundle, a middle-aged man leading a child, and a wizard who looks quite young—isn't that Kyle?
Morris was happy to run into acquaintances here.
" Morris!" Kyle saw her too, his face lighting up with surprise, and he quickly walked over. "You're going to the Quidditch World Cup too? What a coincidence!"
"Good morning." Morris nodded and asked, "Where is your family?"
"They're all not interested in Quidditch, so it's just me," Kyle said.
Five minutes passed quickly as the two chatted.
"Time's up." The green-cloaked wizard handed over the iron bucket.
Everyone placed their hands on it.
A few seconds later, Morris's feet were back on solid ground.
He steadied himself and reached out to help Kyle, who had stumbled.
The teleportation process for Portkey is even more unbearable than Apparition.
Morris looked around and found that they were in a desolate swamp, with two wizards in Ministry of Ministry of Magic uniforms in front of them, probably receptionists.
After a simple registration.
"Keep following this road, and you'll see the campsite once you cross that hill. There are empty tents; find a spot to pitch your tent. Just be careful not to use magic in front of Muggle."
Thank you, sir.
Morris nodded to the exhausted-looking staff member and walked with Kyle in the direction they pointed.
On the way, Kyle asked, "Have you reserved a tent?"
Morris shook his head.
He hadn't prepared anything.
"Then you're lucky to have met me." Kyle showed off his backpack, a rather smug look on his face. "Inside is a magic tent; you've never seen one before."
The two climbed over a small hill and finally reached the campsite.
All sorts of tents were densely packed here, stretching as far as the eye could see.
Kyle exclaimed, "That's incredible! I've heard that a hundred thousand wizards will arrive here."
"