One day later.
Inside the office of the Dean of Gryffindor.
Surrounded by over a dozen containers filled with souls, Thorne sat upright opposite Professor McGonagall's desk.
Those containers were placed quietly, white gas-liquid slowly churning within them.
Professor McGonagall put down the self-reflection letter in her hand and raised her hand to rub her temples, her tone carrying obvious exhaustion.
"Professor Thorne, I will emphasize once more,"
She looked up at Thorne, "Hogwarts is the safest place in the entire Wizarding World."
"Therefore, our minimum requirement for course content is that it must not harm the students."
She paused, clearly recalling yesterday's scene.
"If the situation between you and Professor Snape yesterday were to get out, I'm afraid Great Britain would have a new magic school by tomorrow."
Thorne watched regretfully as Professor McGonagall picked up her quill and decisively crossed out a bolded application for classroom content on that self-reflection letter.
It seemed that his original teaching plan for "Quickly Mastering Condensing Techniques" was completely dead.
From now on, he could only let the students slowly grope their way through and master the ability of Condensing step by step through the transmission of experience.
McGonagall put the self-reflection letter aside and picked up another piece of paper, scanned it, and slightly raised her eyebrows.
"Leave of Absence Application?"
Thorne nodded immediately.
"Yes, Professor. I intend to go to Diagon Alley to buy some things."
"The Principal recently advanced me my first month's salary, so I'll get a wand and new robes while I'm at it."
As he spoke, he subconsciously tugged at the old, patch-covered clothes he was wearing.
That "Sectumsempra" was truly an expensive spell... In the Wizarding World, this was the only wearable piece of clothing he had.
McGonagall pursed her lips, her expression somewhat subtle.
"Actually..." She looked at Thorne, her tone hesitating for a moment, "Professor Thorne, as a Professor, why did you write this?"
She pointed to the Leave of Absence Application.
"If you want to leave the school, you can go at any time. Who told you that you had to fill this out?"
Thorne was silent for a second.
"...Professor Snape."
"Oh." McGonagall nodded with an "I understand" expression. "Well then, it's only right that he teases you a bit."
She put the paper down and frowned again.
"However, will it be safe for you to go alone?"
She thought for a moment and added:
"If you need, I can arrange for several Hogwarts House-elves to accompany you."
"No need." Thorne waved his hands hurriedly.
"I will use the Floo Network to go to the Leaky Cauldron and meet up with Hagrid. With him there, there shouldn't be any problem."
"Right, it is indeed today." McGonagall nodded slightly.
"Then use my fireplace directly. At this time, only the Dean's office fireplace is still open."
She looked up at Thorne.
"Do you need me to teach you how to use it?"
Thorne shook his head confidently.
"No need, Professor. I already consulted Hagrid yesterday."
McGonagall nodded in acknowledgment and said no more.
It wasn't until Thorne had left through the Floo Network and a full half hour had passed that Professor McGonagall suddenly looked up, her brow slowly tightening.
"Hiss..."
She pondered for a moment.
"With Hagrid's size... can he really use the Floo Network?"
---
Meanwhile.
Knockturn Alley, No. 13B.
Inside the gloomy and narrow shop, the air was filled with an old and pungent smell.
A small, wretched-looking man stood at the counter, placed an item tightly wrapped in brown paper gently on the counter, and then raised his hand to ring the bell beside him.
The crisp sound of the bell echoed through the shop.
"Heh, a rare guest."
From behind the counter, a man with a hunched back slowly appeared.
As he spoke, he used his hand to slick back his greasy, shiny hair, revealing a calculating face.
"What good stuff did you scavenge this time?"
The wretched man licked his lips, his tone carrying a hint of irrepressible excitement.
"Borgin, I've brought out the bottom-of-the-trunk goods this time."
He whispered, "If you take this, I'm going to do a big business deal."
His eyes unconsciously glanced toward the interior of the shop as if confirming something, and then he forced himself to calm down.
"Heh, a big business deal?" Borgin sneered. "Going to rob Gringotts?"
As he spoke, he had already reached out to unwrap the brown paper, glanced at the contents inside, and then nodded slightly.
"Considered good stuff." Borgin closed the paper package and looked up. "What about the price?"
Before his voice had even faded, he noticed something was wrong.
The wretched man's gaze still drifted towards the depths of the shop every now and then, and his expression became somewhat stiff.
Borgin's expression instantly darkened, and his tone turned a few degrees colder.
"Rat, let me warn you."
He said, "If you dare to try anything in my shop, I don't mind selling you to a certain Witch so she can grow some mushrooms on you."
The wretched man immediately shrank his neck and waved his hands repeatedly.
"Don't worry, don't worry, I definitely wouldn't dare... wouldn't dare."
Only then did Borgin give a cold snort.
"Fine, then let's talk about the price."
He changed the subject and narrowed his eyes again, "But where are those two thugs who always follow you? You used to always bring two tough guys."
"Especially that young one, he actually dared to use an Unforgivable Curse. The Ministry of Magic is currently hunting him nationwide."
"Oh... them..."
The wretched man subconsciously lowered his head and gave a vague response.
"Hiding, hiding. You know how it is..."
As he spoke, he couldn't help but use his peripheral vision to look into the depths of the shop, a flash of unconcealable tension in his eyes.
---
At the same time.
In the depths of the shop, an extremely subtle magical ripple quietly spread out.
Immediately after, two figures manifested in the shadows, one large and one small, as if they had been "squeezed" out of the air.
"Heh, this thing really is useful."
The younger boy laughed softly; he looked to be less than fourteen years old.
He held a Music Box in his hands, the lid half-open, seemingly playing music, but strangely, not a single sound was made in the shop.
"Borgin didn't notice us at all."
The little boy's tone carried obvious pride.
"As expected, this thing can make people focus on the things right in front of them."
The older boy shook his head and lowered his voice.
"Stop talking nonsense, move fast. Time is limited."
As he spoke, he had already pulled out an inconspicuous leather wallet from his waist.
That wallet looked like it could only hold some change at most, but when he gave it a shake, the Dark Arts items on the counter were stuffed into it one after another.
Whether it was heavy metal implements or giant magical artifacts, all of them sank into the wallet without any hindrance, as if it were connected to an infinitely extending space.
And before each time he acted, the little boy would first wave his wand and cast a simple Counter-curse on those items to ensure that the attached Dark Arts would not backfire on them for a short time.
"Tsk, as expected of the largest Dark Arts item shop."
The little boy said excitedly in a low voice while he was busy.
"If these things were taken to the black market to be sold, the gold coins we'd get would be enough for us to swim in."
Although the older boy didn't respond, the slight arc at the corner of his mouth that he couldn't suppress had already exposed his current mood.
The little boy also wanted to stuff a large pile of magic books into that wallet, but he was stopped by the older boy.
"Hey, have you ever seen a thief steal books? Can stealing books even be considered stealing? These things aren't worth anything."
The little boy nodded, put the books back, and continued casting spells.
The two continued to scavenge further inside and soon passed a long-abandoned old fireplace.
The little boy stopped and tried to cast a counter-Dark Arts spell on a necklace by the fireplace, but as soon as the wand lit up, it was repelled by a strong backlash.
"Tsk... the Dark Arts on this are too strong."
The two looked at each other, both feeling a bit troubled.
Just then.
"Thud!"
A dull sound of a heavy object hitting the ground suddenly rang out.
The two turned their heads almost simultaneously.
They saw that in that old fireplace, the green flames that had not yet completely dissipated were slowly flickering, and in front of the fireplace, a man covered in coal ash and in a wretched state was struggling to climb up from the ground.
"Pah! Pah! Pah!"
The man spat out the ash from his mouth while cursing in a low voice.
"Damn it... why is the Wizard's mode of transportation so filthy? It's far inferior to the Dream Gate."
He patted the dust off his body, his tone full of disgust.
"I don't know when I'll be able to get that thing again... will the System give it?"
What he said was not quite understood by the two, but it didn't prevent them from knowing that this was definitely a threat.
The little boy had already subconsciously raised his wand, his eyes cold.
The older boy, however, suddenly reached out and pressed down on his wrist, shouting in a low voice, "Calm down."
The man covered in coal ash seemed to have noticed the movement and looked up.
He was stunned for a moment, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the two of them and the mess of goods all over the floor.
Then, his eyebrows slowly arched.
"Thieves?"
As soon as this word was spoken.
The older boy let go of the little boy's hand.
That little boy gave a loud shout.
"Avada Kedavra."
The next moment, a blinding green light suddenly flashed.
The light of the curse hit the man's chest without any hindrance, and the strong impact directly sent him flying, crashing heavily into the fireplace.
Bang!
The man's body disappeared into the depths of the fireplace, not even having time to let out a scream, and then there was no more movement.
The depths of the shop returned to a dead silence.
The little boy's chest was heaving violently, and his wand was still held stiffly in mid-air. He stood in a daze for a few seconds as if he hadn't yet recovered from the scene just now.
Until the older boy stepped forward and raised his hand to pat him on the shoulder.
"It's okay..."
His voice was deliberately lowered, "He's already dead."
The little boy turned his head mechanically, his throat tight.
"R-really?"
He subconsciously swallowed his saliva, "Should we... check?"
The older boy shook his head, but his gaze remained vigilantly directed toward the outside of the shop.
Borgin's voice could still be heard faintly; he seemed to still be bargaining with that wretched man, clearly not having noticed anything that happened here.
"No need."
His tone was certain, "This is the Killing Curse. Up until now, there has only been one person who could survive this spell."
"Don't overthink it."
Only then did the little boy slowly lower his wand, but his eyes were still empty and staring as if his soul had been sucked out by something.
The older boy glanced at him, his brow slightly furrowed.
"Forget it, you rest for a bit."
"I'll do the rest."
After he finished speaking, he turned around and continued to stuff those Dark Arts items into the wallet one by one, his movements skillful and calm.
While the little boy just stood there, looking at his back, his fingers still trembling slightly uncontrollably.
This was the first time he had killed someone; before, he had only used this spell to scare people. He hadn't expected this day to come so soon.
That kind of shock, blankness, and late-coming fear intertwined, making his thinking become sluggish.
After a long while, he finally took a deep breath and was about to step forward to help.
Suddenly.
A slight but clear sound came from behind him.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
The two turned their heads almost simultaneously.
They saw that the man who was supposed to be "dead" actually stood up shakily from the fireplace.
He reached out and wiped away a nosebleed, the bloodstains looking particularly eye-catching on his coal-ash-covered face.
The next moment, he looked up, a fierce light showing in his eyes as he stared fixedly at the two people in front of him.
"Avada Kedavra?"
The man grinned, revealing a ferocious smile.
"I'll blow your damn head open!"
As soon as his voice fell, a small white soul began to condense in front of him.