Hogwarts: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me From Studying

Chapter 1059: Chapter 146: The Snow-White Maiden

Bloren snarled, ”But now the IRS is about to freeze all my assets! Just the back taxes and fines will bankrupt me! Not to mention those who got locked up...”

”Ah, that’s the Muggle Government’s doing.” Laira’s tone carried an indifferent detachment: ”Our understanding is limited to Congress turning a blind eye to you, not babysitting you.”

”Don’t play dumb in front of me!” Bloren’s voice was icy as he said, ”My people were controlled by magic to betray core secrets, don’t tell me you weren’t behind it! How could the Witch Pure Party have found people so precisely from abroad?”

”Ha! That’s Grindelwald! Do you think he doesn’t have manpower in the United States?”

Laira replied with equal coldness, ”And watch your tone, Bloren. Congress acts without needing to explain to anyone!”

”In the end, you should ask yourselves... Why did you provoke such troublesome opponents?”

”Was I the one who provoked them?”

Bloren was almost spitting blood in anger: ”From the start, it’s Grindelwald chasing us like a God of Death, killing us! That madman! The people we’ve killed aren’t even a fraction of his, yet he’s parading around with a flag of justice to attack us now!”

”That’s your problem then.”

Laira stated, ”I’ve warned you all before, if you want to make money, just make money, don’t meddle in those malevolent experiments. The current situation is your own fault for being insatiably greedy!”

”In short, if you can’t even clean up your own mess and let the fire spread to places it shouldn’t, then the Scourers can truly disappear!”

”After all, clearing the ranks is one of our duties... isn’t it?”

The call was cut off, and a ”beep—” from the Communication Pea signaled the end.

Bloren took off the Communication Pea, inhaled deeply, exhaled, then clenched his fist and slammed it onto the map!

In the darkness, only his heavy breathing remained:

”Very well... Laira Piqueley... and Magic Congress! You were the ones who first tore up the agreement!”

...

The small room was filled with the scent of alcohol and dust, Abigail silently sorted through a few old robes left by Oliver, along with a battered copy of ”Standard Spells” textbook.

This was all the belongings left by her student.

A sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl was assisting Abigail, her simple ponytail and a few freckles on her face hinting at subtle sadness.

”Teacher, Oliver... when he left, he was surely brave, right?” the girl asked softly, ”He’s a hero, isn’t he?”

Abigail’s movements slowed down.

The girl wiped her tears and lowered her head, saying, ”Once things are settled, shall we hold a funeral for him? The farewell ceremony can be simple, I, I still want to see him one last time...”

Abigail looked at her naive appearance, opened her mouth to say something, but her throat seemed to be blocked by something.

Just then, a faint sound of footsteps passed by outside, and Abigail involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief. She quickly handed the belongings to the girl and said in a hurried whisper:

”The leader has matters to discuss with me, I’ll leave these to you.”

”Ah, alright... okay.” the girl said somewhat flustered, ”Then, teacher, please go quickly.”

Abigail hurried outside but didn’t see Bloren’s figure.

She paused for a moment before realizing— the tunnels here created a natural sound reflection environment, and the footsteps she heard might have come from another corridor.

Abigail hesitated, remembering the girl’s tears, and her eyes became resolute again.

At least... she needed to find a way to bring Oliver’s body back.

Secrecy was the organization’s most basic requirement, and Abigail felt she shouldn’t resent it;

But falling into a wizard’s hands meant they had ways to pry open a young person’s mouth. A leak... can’t be blamed on Oliver.

So be it... at least arranging a funeral for him was the only thing this teacher could do for her student...

She rounded the corner and indeed saw Bloren walking briskly ahead, his figure made long by the gaslight, his butterfly tattoo on his arm seeming to flutter.

Abigail was about to call out when the flickering shadows illuminated Bloren’s face, and the expression on it was neither calm nor solemn, nor was there occasional mockery, but rather a look as if it was painted with thick ink... of destruction.

She caught her breath, her steps nailed to the spot, the name perched on her lips swallowed forcibly back.

A chill of instinct crept up her spine.

Bloren’s figure swiftly vanished at the junction, and Abigail hesitated only for a moment before quickly following.

She had once carried out tasks in extremely hostile environments, her well-trained body moving like an agile black cat, each footfall silent, each shadow in the pipe, and each groove in the stone wall became her cover.

...

Bloren entered a narrow, abandoned tunnel, walking for a long time.

This intricate network of underground pipes would deter anyone without a guide from venturing inside, for fear of becoming lost in the darkness with no way out.

Yet Bloren’s steps did not falter, as if this was a path he frequented.

Abigail followed from a distance, each time waiting until Bloren’s silhouette disappeared at the corridor’s end before catching up swiftly.

In the silent and dark surroundings, even without seeing each other, the rhythmic footsteps indicated the other’s location.

Bloren entered through a rusted iron door, descending a staircase filled with cracks and debris, into an increasingly cold and damp air.

Suddenly, the view opened up—beneath lay a forgotten subway station, its vaulted ceiling webbed with cobwebs, the once gas lamp brackets still on the crumbling brick walls.

Abigail hid behind the wall, cautiously leaned out for a look, almost exclaiming aloud.

The tracks, the platform, the collapsed shelves, and seats were crawling with terrifying dark magical creatures!

Werewolves, Vampires, Trolls, Ghouls, Gargoyles...

These fearsome, typically non-coexisting creatures were somehow densely packed in this space.

Most were sprawled on the ground as if asleep; some idly paced, and others even hung upside down from the dome, swaying slightly.

Among them, a girl resembling a Vampire was particularly striking, with hair as white as snow, skin pale like porcelain, and features impeccably delicate.

She wore a white long dress, standing silently atop a derelict cart, like a pearl gleaming in darkness.

Abigail’s heartstrings trembled, instinctively wanting to flee. Yet inexplicably, she felt the girl seemed familiar.

At that moment, the Vampire girl suddenly opened her eyes and met Abigail’s gaze hidden in the shadows!