Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - H.P.S.T Chapter 891: Conspiracy and Murder

Unlike the Squibs that did not have magic powers, the Obscurials had a stronger ability to cast spells.

However, due to various reasons, their magic talents had not been properly exploited and had to be suppressed in their bodies.

This situation had been very common before schools of wizardry were established. Even now, it was a common phenomenon in Asia. Those Schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry that paid attention to blood inheritance and fortunate opportunities would not easily recruit any students.

Generally speaking, over time, the magic suppressed in the body would gradually dissipate. A wizard who could have achieved great things would eventually become a Muggle who couldn’t do magic, just like a Squib.

However, if these people were severely stimulated during this process, the distortion of character would infect the suppressed energy in the body, and the two would interact. The dark forces that were infected and demonized would eventually give birth to their own consciousness.

It would parasitize in the host and draw power until the host couldn’t supply the energy it needed and would die.

When the host was extremely emotionally out of control, it would be swallowed by this terrifying consciousness and become an Obscurial, possessing terrifying power.

Long ago, there were Dark wizards who’d tried to conquer the world by artificially creating large numbers of Obscurials.

The Dark wizards searched for children with magical powers in large numbers, imprisoned them on small islands or prisons without teaching them how to use magic, but kept torturing them until they were completely swallowed by hatred and became weapons for war.

This was an extremely evil act that was resisted by the entire wizarding world.

The hearing continued, and Fudge seemed even more upset.

“I had gone out to buy cat food from the corner shop at the end of Wisteria Walk, shortly after nine on the evening of the second of August,” gabbled Mrs. Figg at once, under Fudge’s interrogation, as though she had learned what she was saying by heart, “when I heard a disturbance down the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. On approaching the mouth of the alleyway I saw Dementors running…”

“Running?” said Madam Bones sharply. “Dementors don’t run, they glide.”

“That’s what I meant to say,” said Mrs. Figg quickly, patches of pink appearing in her withered cheeks. “Gliding along the alley toward what looked like two boys.”

“What did they look like?” said Madam Bones, narrowing her eyes so that the monocle’s edges disappeared into her flesh.

“Well, one was very large and the other one rather skinny …”

“No, no,” said Madam Bones impatiently, “I’m talking about the Dementors … describe them.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Figg, the pink flush creeping up her neck now. “They were big. Big and wearing cloaks.”

Hearing her description, Harry felt a horrible sinking in the pit of his stomach.

Whatever Mrs. Figg said to the contrary, it sounded to him as though the most she had ever seen was a picture of a Dementor, and a picture could never convey the truth of what these beings were like: the eerie way they moved, hovering inches over the ground, or the rotting smell of them, or that terrible, rattling noise they made as they sucked on the surrounding air.

A dumpy wizard with a large black mustache in the second row leaned close to his neighbor, a frizzy-haired witch, and whispered something in her ear. She smirked and nodded.

“Big and wearing cloaks,” repeated Madam Bones coolly, while Fudge snorted derisively. “I see. Anything else?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Figg. “I felt them. Everything went cold, and this was a very warm summer’s night, mark you. And I felt … as though all happiness had gone from the world … and I remembered … dreadful things… A long time ago, I was proved to have no casting ability. That night, my grandmother hugged me…”

Her voice shook and died.

Madam Bones’ eyes widened slightly, and red marks could be seen under her eyebrow where the monocle had dug into it.

“What did the Dementors do?” she asked softly.

“They went for the boys,” said Mrs. Figg, her voice stronger and more confident now, the pink flush ebbing away from her face, as though completely recalling what had happened. “One of them had fallen. The other was backing away, trying to repel the Dementor. That was Harry. He tried twice and produced silver vapor. On the third attempt, he produced a Patronus, which charged down the first Dementor and then, with his encouragement, chased away the second from his cousin. And that … that was what happened,” Mrs. Figg finished, somewhat lamely.

Madam Bones looked down at Mrs. Figg in silence; Fudge was not looking at her at all, but fidgeting with his papers. Finally he raised his eyes and said, rather aggressively “That’s what you saw, is it?”

“That was what happened,” Mrs. Figg repeated.

“Very well,” said Fudge. “You may go.”

Mrs. Figg cast a frightened look from Fudge to Dumbledore, then got up and shuffled off toward the door again. It could be heard thud shut behind her.

“An unknown Squib,” Fudge said loftily. “Not a very convincing witness.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Madam Bones in her booming voice. “She certainly described the effects of a Dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t.”

“Is that so?  Dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a wizard?” snorted Fudge. “You don’t really believe this story. The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn’t have bet…”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the Dementors were there by coincidence,” said Dumbledore lightly.

Umbridge, who was sitting to the right of Fudge with her face in shadow moved slightly, but everyone else was quite still and silent.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” asked Fudge icily.

“It means that I think they were ordered there,” said Dumbledore.

“I think we might have a record of it if someone had ordered a pair of Dementors to go strolling through Little Whinging!” barked Fudge, “but no, we have nothing.”

“Not if the Dementors are taking orders from someone other than the Ministry of Magic these days,” said Dumbledore calmly. “I have already given you my views on this matter, Cornelius.”

“Yes, you have,” said Fudge forcefully, “and I have no reason to believe that your views are anything other than bilge, Dumbledore. The Dementors remain in place in Azkaban and are doing everything we ask them to.”

“Then,” said Dumbledore, quietly but clearly, “we must ask ourselves why somebody within the Ministry ordered a pair of Dementors into that alleyway on the second of August.”

A complete silence on the court greeted these words.

“May I add something?” said Evan promptly, ignoring Fudge’s expression and saying all his thoughts. “I mentioned relevant suggestions in the newspaper. Since Mr. Minister firmly believes that the Dementors still strictly obey the orders of the Ministry of Magic, why not check internally if someone in the Ministry ordered the Dementors to attack Harry in the Muggle neighborhood? In my opinion, this matter may not be simple, it involves a terrible thing: Conspiracy and murder…”

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