great-warnovel Chapter 388 A Mini Quiz
Chapter 388 A Mini Quiz
Chapter 388 A Quiz
Black's funeral ended in a somber atmosphere, and Hermione returned to the library as if nothing had happened.
It seemed that people's deaths and the next impending battle had nothing to do with her.
There are endless books to read, and magic seems to have no end.
She immersed herself in the sea of knowledge and even took the time to write letters, asking the Beauxbatons merchant to send Crook Hill over.
Living alone can be dull, but having a lively pet helps her change her mood.
Luo Wu is easy to feed; one meal can sustain it for several months. It won't damage books, but it enjoys climbing around on bookshelves or darting back and forth in the library, growling at those dark magic forbidden books that don't look so good.
Grindelwald never contacted Hermione again, and she never sought him out.
It was clear that Grindelwald wanted her to know about Regulus's predicament and the escalating vengeful war by the Mughal Party.
If the Dark Lord were to personally deliver information about the conversations between old Nigel and the others, and the selection of saints, it would be beneath his dignity, and would likely provoke Hermione's resentment.
Let her observe, discover, and experience for herself.
"Perhaps he's hoping I'll go to him, express my opinions and willingness to interfere, so he can then conveniently make demands of me," the witch speculated, guessing at the Dark Lord's intentions.
Grindelwald invited her here, not really to be a librarian. She always kept Dumbledore's words in mind and was wary of the Dark Lord's subtle influence on her ideas.
Regulus is Sirius's brother, and the Order of the Phoenix always talks about family, love, friendship, and mutual assistance. He probably thinks that Hermione would help Regulus even if it's just for Sirius's sake.
However, once caught up in the power struggles within the UMNO party and drawn into the war with Muggles, hatred...
These things will bind her tightly, and then Grindelwald will gradually change her mind.
"But what does that have to do with me? I'm just an ordinary third-year student at Hogwarts."
Even if she disagrees with the war between wizards and Muggles, even if she really wants to help Regulus, it's the business of the sorcerers. Before she has the power to change everything, all these struggles are just entertainment for the Dark Lord.
She wanted to see how Grindelwald would react to her response; it would be interesting and give her a better position in the game.
He flipped through the book "The Theory of Social Stratification" in his hand, lost in thought.
Actually, these Muggle books are quite interesting, and you can sometimes find Grindelwald's annotations between the lines, so he must have been very serious when he read them.
Hermione felt a little regretful that Dumbledore was dead; otherwise, exchanging ideas from the books with him would have been much more interesting than reading Grindelwald's twisted logic.
In addition to absorbing the material herself, she would also select suitable content for Hogwarts students from the bookshelf, use a copying charm to make copies, and send them back to the professors for reference.
"Krookshan, stop scaring those books, you'll frighten them." A low growl came from beside her, and the witch warned without turning her head.
"Is this the child of Scamander's Chinese cat?" Grindelwald's deep voice sounded from behind.
Hermione turned around and saw Crookshanks crouching low, tense and wary, making threatening grunts.
Even though his hind legs were trembling, he stood firmly in front of Grindelwald.
The Dark Lord, however, looked at the little guy, who was not even half a person tall, with a strange expression on his face and his hands behind his back.
"Back then, its mother caused me a lot of trouble." As he said this, a vein visibly throbbed in his eye, as if it had stirred up some unpleasant memories, and a fierce glint appeared in his eyes.
"Crooked Mountain, come back!" Hermione quickly stood up and made Little Loew hide behind her.
Grindelwald is mentally ill and cannot withstand stimulation. I'm afraid that Yawu might trigger his memories of the Battle of Paris.
She wasn't sure if it was just her imagination, but she almost saw a thin crack appear between Grindelwald's eyebrows, filled with burning black flames.
When I looked up again, the white-haired old man had returned to normal.
"Don't let it damage my book, or I'll hold you responsible."
Hermione pouted. "What do you want?"
Grindelwald glanced at the book in her hand: "This one is good, it has some sound theories, but its perspective is too limited."
He beckoned a chair over and sat down at the table like a professor examining his students, his eyes slightly closed.
"Don't you have any thoughts on the destruction of Volgograd?"
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle to herself. He couldn't resist coming down to her even though she wasn't looking for him.
"What does this have to do with me?" She sat back down in her seat, nonchalantly directing the teapot to pour herself a cup of hot tea, but before she could take it, the annoying Dark Lord forcefully snatched it away.
Green tea—a strange taste—
He sipped his tea and mumbled something.
"After studying here for half a month, I can't have made no progress at all."
"Are you going to give me a test?" Hermione asked.
"You can't tell a person's true level just by answering questions on paper; only practice can test the truth."
"The fox's tail has been revealed!" Hermione sneered inwardly. What practical test? He just wanted to get her out to work for him!
Hermione slammed the book on the table: "Don't even think about me helping you in your war! I would never use magic to slaughter Muggles!" Crookshanks poked his head out at Old Man's Tooth.
The black flames burned away the tea in the cup, and the fragile green leaf stems twisted and turned into charcoal.
"I didn't intend for you to go out and kill anyone," Grindelwald said casually.
"I know you're wary of me. That Albus guy must have said a lot of bad things about me before he died—"
"Do I look that stupid, trying to subdue you with such a crude trick?"
Hermione's interest was piqued. She turned around, crossed her arms, and said, "Then tell me, what do you want me to do?"
Grindelwald placed the scalding hot teacup, which was almost melting, back on the table. Sizzling smoke rose from the wooden tabletop, startling Crow into shrinking back under Hermione's legs.
"I hope you can spare Regulus's life—" he murmured.
"The Black family has suffered greatly—I don't want to see them wiped out."
Hermione narrowed her eyes: "You saw Regulus's death in your field of vision? In Volgograd?"
The influence of Fiendfire caused him to see only a future of destruction and death, a future in which Regulus happened to be.
"Maybe it's fake?"
"I don't like gambling," Grindelwald said bluntly.
"You don't need to participate in the war, you don't need to get involved in the power struggles between the saints. You just need to quietly follow Regulus and lend him a hand when he faces certain death. That shouldn't go against your conscience and principles, right?"
Hermione thought about it for a moment, and if it was just about saving Regulus, then it would indeed be quite in line with her wishes.
"But that means I have to go all the way to Volgograd, which is too far!" she complained, not wanting Grindelwald to think she was easy to manipulate.
"You cold-blooded little Gryphon girl, Sirius would never have imagined you could be so heartless!" Grindelwald said sarcastically.
"You can visit my collection afterward. Come to think of it, as an elder, I haven't given you a gift yet."
Hermione shook her head: "I have to go back to Hogwarts in September. I'm going to preside over the Sorting Ceremony."
This was her condition; standing before the freshmen with that hat in hand, she didn't want to miss out on any of it.
Grindelwald chuckled, seemingly with disdain: "Deal."