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Published at 28th of June 2019 12:46:45 PM


Chapter 388

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H.P.S.T Chapter 388: Here Is France!

Evan didn’t know what to think. This crimson nameplate was absolutely mad. It wanted him to go thousands of feet deep into the sea to find a dead evil spirit. 

He was not going to do it; he didn’t want to die. 

Who knew if there were any other monsters in the depths of the sea besides this dead evil god? That’s besides to mention the sense of terror and oppression from the endless abyss! Just looking at the endless stream of Dementors in front of him, Evan despised the idea of going any closer

In particular, he had not yet studied and understood what this nameplate was. It was strange that there was no danger in the weird object left by the evil god created by Herpo the Foul. 

If he, for example, helped it absorb the essence of the dead evil god, and thus facilitated the resurrection of the evil spirit on the nameplate, the situation would be terrible! 

As time went by, Evan’s soul wandered alone in the depths of the ocean. 

When he was bored with the huge octopus in front of him, the crimson nameplate shone again, and he once again had another strange experience like when he met Pettigrew! 

But this time, his soul was rapidly returning to his body!

He could finally leave here and return to the real world. 

The scene in front of him passed swiftly, and Evan, pulled by the nameplate, revolved around the huge octopus in the dark sea, and then approached its head. 

In the deepest part was a gap in the rock, and Evan could hardly see what seemed to be a sunken city behind.

Before he could see clearly, everything became distorted.

When he woke up, Evan found himself not in the gloomy, dark Azkaban; he was now lying in a luxurious, classical French-style room, the mattress underneath was soft and comfortable, and the room was decorated with noble and elegant aristocratic style.

There was a light aroma in the air, which smelled like strawberry.

A string of aeolian wind bells hung by the window and jingled with the breeze.

In the afternoon, the golden sunlight shone through the beautifully decorated windows, radiating the afterheat.

The colorful magic hanging lamp was spinning.

Everything at present was full of warmth and dreams. 

“Where am I, and what’s this place?” Evan sat up and said incredulously, “Am I dreaming?”

Everything in front of him was so different from Azkaban’s dark style that Evan had an unreal feeling of entering a dream.

“Here is France!” Sirius’s voice rang behind him.

He came in from the outside living room and said with delight, “Thank God, you finally woke up!” 

“How long have I been in a coma?” Evan asked. 

“Almost three days, Dumbledore said that you have strange magic marks on you, but nothing problematic. He didn’t think it was necessary to wake you up by force.” Sirius explained, “When the magic on your body would dissipate, you’d naturally wake up, he said.” 

Sirius pulled a chair and sat next to Evan. 

“What exactly happened? What did you see?” he hurriedly asked. 

“The corpse of a terrible monster is in the sea below Azkaban.” Evan sighed and said, “No doubt. It’s an evil god like I told you before.”

“That thing again?” “Sirius frowned, “How could it possibly be in Azkaban, hidden in the depths of the sea?” 

“Not the two I saw before, this one is a new evil spirit.” Evan said weakly. “But this is no longer important. It’s dead now. There is only a corpse left there that keeps producing Dementors.” 

Sirius was shocked to hear that Dementors were born in this way.

Evan waved indifferently. Whoever would look at that fellow and the newly born Dementors for such a long while would feel as numb as he did.

“Well, now you should tell me, why did we come to France?” Evan asked. “And, where’s Dumbledore?”

“Three days ago, after you fainted, we talked to Peter Pettigrew and asked him all about Voldemort’s Curse.” Sirius sighed and continued, “He told us everything, but Dumbledore thought that the information he had was meaningless. Voldemort did not seem to trust him, but was deceiving him, and did not tell him the real way to break the Curse.”

He looked extremely discontented and shook his fist hard in the air. 

“That idiot Peter used to be like that. He worshiped great power, but he didn’t have the slightest grip on discerning truth from lies. He was easily fooled by Voldemort, and got nothing.” Sirius said angrily. “James actually died because of his whistle-blowing. It was never really worth it. I never thought there would be such a foolish creature!” 

“Since we can’t know what this Curse is.” Evan looked again at the circular snake bracelet on his right wrist, “Then there’s only one way to restore the Philosopher’s Stone intact. We should be investigating that.” 

“Yes, Dumbledore has a clue. He’s going to confirm it!” Sirius looked at Evan. “Before that, he thought it necessary to let his friend take a look at this Philosopher’s Stone, so we came to France first, looking for…” 

“The alchemist Nicolas Flamel!” Evan knew all about him, “He is the last master of alchemy, the wizard who has been recognized as the longest living wizard in the wizarding world, the maker of the Elixir of life using the Philosopher’s Stone, and Dumbledore’s partner in alchemy.”

Sirius was stunned when he heard Evan say so many information in one breath, and a smile appeared on his lips, “I knew nothing could be concealed from you.”  

“Did we find him then?” Evan asked in a hurry.

“EUREKA! Dumbledore brought us here.” Sirius said, “We didn’t have to work so hard to come to France. Nicolas Flamel and his wife Perenelle Flamel retired in England, but after destroying the Philosopher’s Stone two years ago, they decided to spend the rest of their lives in their native country France.”

“So, we’re in Nicolas’s house right now?” Evan looked around. The decoration style of this room was too luxurious. 

They didn’t seem to be in the famous alchemist’s house right now. It was like an old aristocratic family or a pure-blood wizard’s manor.

“Nicolas Flamel has been living in his alma mater since he returned to France. By the way, he is a professor of potions and alchemy at the school!” Sirius paused and continued, “This is Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.”





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