It was just that this girl's spiritual sensitivity was too high, and it uncontrollably leaked out.
Presumably, she must have suffered some trauma.
Children with high spiritual sensitivity easily have their minds wander uncontrollably, easily seeing and perceiving the obscure presences in the cracks of the mundane world.
Of course, this wasn't entirely a bad thing. Children with high spiritual sensitivity could quickly master a large number of spells, easily manipulate desires, and achieve twice the results with half the effort.
It was a talent with both pros and cons.
And if it were in a world with unspeakable colors, excessively high spiritual sensitivity would be a very dangerous thing, easily connecting with certain entities.
Pulling his scattered thoughts back, Howl began today's lesson: the correct placement of the wand—cuff and waist…
Time quickly arrived at the weekend, night, Hogsmeade.
After the Little Wizards' daytime rampage, the village at night always seemed deserted. If you were to ask where the most people were at this time, it would definitely be the pubs.
After all, the busy owners and shop assistants wouldn't mind having a drink at the Three Broomsticks, and even the Professors did the same.
But today, the Professors weren't at the Three Broomsticks… they were at another pub.
Creak—creak—
The stairs of the Pigs Head Bar always made an irritating sound. Howl slowly walked down from upstairs, wiping his hands with a crimson handkerchief.
"Howl, over here!" Professor Flitwick waved, calling out quickly. The bar wasn't empty, but it was quiet.
Awestruck by Snape's authority—the Pigs Head Bar was mostly frequented by Wizards from the shadier circles, and coincidentally, Snape had quite a reputation in that circle.
"We were just discussing Dark Arts," Professor Flitwick said.
Howl sat down, then chuckled softly: "As expected, once we're here, the topic inevitably shifts to this, after all, the Three Broomsticks isn't convenient for discussing such things."
Howl also laughed: "That's true, after all, we're still wearing another identity."
Snape's gaze fell on his handkerchief; the crimson was so striking in the dim light.
Howl put it away, smiling: "It used to be a white handkerchief."
Snape twitched his lips, while Aberforth brought Howl's drink over, not interrupting their conversation.
Professor Flitwick and Snape both knew who this person was, but neither discussed it much, just as they wouldn't ask why Howl came to the Pigs Head Bar every week.
"We were just talking about the Dark Arts items from a while ago," Professor Flitwick said. "Severus said that six months ago, many Dark Arts items appeared on the black market.
And there's a Mundungus, who suffered a backlash from reselling goods and disappeared for quite some time, not even knowing where he went.
This gave us an idea. We're wondering if 'those incidents' might also be similar."
"Dark Arts items?" Howl thought for a moment: "The probability… isn't high, but it's certainly possible. Perhaps that item is particularly secretive, or perhaps this item isn't just hidden in a familiar place.
After all, that place is too big, there are many places to hide things, and if it just happened to evade the Seeker's Eye…"
"It might not be a Dark Arts item; it might just be an artifact related to Parseltongue," Snape said flatly, his voice gaining some irritation.
It seemed that supplementing points others hadn't mentioned greatly satisfied him.
If he could also take the opportunity to mock them, that would be even better.
Unfortunately, he couldn't.
However, this possibility was indeed valid, especially since the Basilisk had been dealt with, no further attacks had occurred, and the rumors in the school had significantly diminished.
"But how did he know about the snake?" Howl wondered with doubt in his heart: "If that's truly the case, then it's a conscious, targeted act."
Saying that, Howl sighed: "Honestly, I feel I've been somewhat derelict in my duties. I'm very certain I've repeatedly emphasized the dangers of Dark Arts to them. I even unreservedly took out some of my private collections."
"Is that so? I thought you really applied to the Ministry of Magic for approval," Professor Flitwick raised an eyebrow slightly, indicating that Howl's research into Dark Arts was quite profound.
"I certainly can't tell them it's mine," Howl smiled helplessly, then sighed and shook his head: "It's best if no student gets involved with this stuff.
I even wonder if I haven't clearly conveyed my meaning, but if verbal communication is meaningless, then the only way beyond that is to cut to the bone."
"Tsk tsk…"
A triangular pointed ear twitched slightly. Howl looked over, but the person didn't withdraw his gaze or laughter. He was wrapped in bandages, with black, dried blood seeping from the gaps.
"If you laugh again, I'll make sure you don't have a mouth as an organ," Howl also smiled.
"Oh, sorry, haha," the person waved his hand dismissively.
The reasons for his laughter seemed varied: because of someone else's troubles, because of that cat-like appearance, or perhaps because a Professor actually treasured Dark Arts items…
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