great-warnovel Chapter 8 The Graveyard of Limbs
Chapter 8 The Graveyard of Limbs
At that moment, Hermione understood the true nature of pyroxene—radiation.
More than forty years have passed since the war, and even with the spread of goblin magic, the average radiation level on the continent has dropped to a level where ordinary people can survive, and the radiation level in Hogwarts is even lower.
Therefore, it is impossible to cast the magic of the Brilliant Stone barehanded anywhere else until arriving here—Chapnon, where even with Dumbledore's suppression, it is still in a dangerous state for Muggles.
A paradise of pyroxene magic.
A single blow wouldn't be enough to kill the young wizard. Hermione stood there, slowly dissipating the blue light in her hand, and coldly watched as Malfoy struggled to his feet. His expression was strange, and after a bout of nausea, he vomited a pile of filth.
"Even for a wizard with magical powers, such a concentration of radiation entering the body is very dangerous. If it is not properly treated in a short time, even if they don't die, they will become deformed."
Hermione showed little mercy to anyone, even a child, who would cruelly cut off their own hand.
But she was still willing to give him a chance, based on the fleeting fear that flashed in his eyes when he committed evil.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine for at least half a day. Of course, you can blow your whistle right away and have your snake father come and take you home." Hermione turned away, no longer looking at the boy whose face was covered in fear.
"You have another option: use this precious half-day to dig out your wand from the garbage heap you despise, and complete the wand selection," Hermione said calmly. "Let me see if a Slytherin student truly deserves this so-called glory."
Ignoring the misguided child, Hermione continued her search.
Behind me came the sounds of a hasty retreat, mixed with faint sobs, like the cold wind whistling through withered branches.
"How much like Stoneville!" she exclaimed suddenly.
A graveyard of limbs, a king who grafts limbs, a nobleman without talent, grafting the limbs of others onto himself, thinking that in this way he can forge his own golden glory.
The nobles here are the same.
The woods returned to silence, broken only by the sound of the girl's footsteps crunching through the branches.
[Inclination] is guided by mysterious inspiration, and Hermione, after wandering around, arrived at the deepest part of the forest.
Suddenly, a breathtaking view opened up before them. In a desolate, gray forest, there was a small patch of emerald green grass. Tiny, tenacious wild grasses struggled to break through the frozen ground, becoming the most stunning color in the darkness.
It was magic; a tiny breeze swirled through the withered forest, even forming a small barrier that prevented anyone from seeing it.
Hermione stared in shock at what she saw: on this tiny patch of grass, less than fifty square meters in size, stood an altar made of the remains of unicorns and a large number of unknown magical creatures.
Firefly-like green lights surrounded the animal carcasses: stick insect-like saplings, mole-like small beasts, ponies with huge eyes, brightly colored owls, and fluffy dumplings, crocodiles like rotten wood, slender big cats, and emaciated bat horses... It was their remaining magical power that purified the radiation and brought a little life back to this desolate land.
They remained in their life postures, one after another rushing forward, as if chasing something. At the highest point of the altar, the pure white unicorn stood frozen with its head held high. Its bones had not decayed and still retained their white and smooth fur. It roared to the sky, as if calling out for something.
But a thin, long metal rod pierced through it, and a horrible scorch mark spread across the unicorn's chest. It seems all the animals died here, either chasing or protecting this rod?
At this moment, Hermione discovered the scene behind the pile of corpses.
Numerous human and fairy corpses lay scattered about, seemingly still fighting before their deaths, but the impact of the explosion's radiation killed them without a clear victor.
"What happened here?" But obviously no one answered this question.
"Perhaps... we should ask the person involved?" Hermione hesitated for a moment. Judging from their positions and the manner of their deaths, she chose the corpse that was on the same side as the animals. It clearly did not look like a Muggle or a goblin, and should not have stood up to launch an attack.
"The Call of Tibia".
The magic performed by those who attend to death—since ancient times, the dead have been lost sheep, and therefore need someone to step forward and guide them.
Before the establishment of the Golden Tree Law, the calling ship called Tibia guided the spirits of the dead to the afterlife, where they would enjoy eternal sleep under the care of the Burning Candle Tree and the Bird of Death.
Death is a concept inherent in most worlds, and Hermione can still use the magic of the Boundary to leverage the power of the other side of this world.
This magic was quite difficult, but fortunately, with the blessing of the large number of deaths around her, and with Hermione collecting a lot of suitable bones from the pile of corpses to use as ritual materials, she unexpectedly succeeded.
Silent ripples emanated from Hermione's mouth, vibrating the skeleton before her.
Soon, a dark green, semi-transparent ghost floated up from the bones. His state was very unstable, like a candle flame in the wind. He didn't notice the girl who had woken him at all, and seemed to still be in the midst of intense battle emotions.
Hermione frowned. The magic wasn't very successful. She had too little magic power, and her techniques related to death were too tricky. She couldn't summon a physical skeleton; it was just an unstable ghost.
This was a man dressed as a wizard, who was speaking emotionally: "Quick! Go! We can't let them take back the control stick!"
He waved his hand anxiously, as if casting some kind of magical gesture. From his flowing hair, Hermione could sense the intensity of the battle.
Using magic once more, Hermione asked in a strange tone, "What is a control rod?"
The ghost, who had died from massive radiation, suddenly replied blankly, "The goblin core metal, created by goblins and Muggles together, can control the reaction rate of the reactor."
"Who are you?"
The ghost flickered: "A wizard who sided with Muggles and goblins, had his wand confiscated, and is now nothing more than a Hufflepuff waste who can only serve as a gardener."
Hermione was surprised to learn that he was an upperclassman.
But considering Hufflepuff's personality, she could probably guess that he was a Muggle-friendly wizard who may have come here with the intention of helping Muggles, but was instead sent to take care of the garden.
"You stole the control stick?" she asked curiously.
"It's me and my friends." He suddenly became emotional: "Thestral Lina, the cat Peter, the Bowtruckle George... and Puff, the last unicorn in the world!"
"What Muggles and goblins want is not peace! They just want to completely destroy wizards!" the ghost wailed in anguish.
"I'm just like the magical creatures, merely exhibits in this zoo. They'll kill all the living magical creatures and wizards outside! Leaving only the pairs to be displayed in the zoo!" The ghost flickered even more intensely.
"So you plotted to steal the control stick?" Hermione asked.
"It's the UMNO. Rozier's people infiltrated and contacted us. There are a total of 7 control batons. We are only responsible for one, and the rest are left to them."
The truth is largely clear: Grindelwald's apostles are still active on Earth. Working together from within and without, they broke through the defenses of the Muggles and goblins, seized the control rods that were crucial to the reactor, and ultimately led to Chernobog's destruction.
"Ghost Core Metal..." Hermione looked at the stick that the animals had guarded with their lives, the strange, gleaming metal standing silently on the sacred altar of corpses.
"Is this my inclination?"
The lush green phantom finally couldn't hold on any longer and dissipated.
Hermione carefully climbed onto the pile of corpses and forcefully pulled out the control stick.