Regarding the Blood-Cursed Beastman, Mr. Dumbledore explained it again to Mori Tsukisa after the show ended.
"They are different from Animagi; Blood-Cursed Beastmen are born from a curse, so they will continuously strengthen their Beast transformation Ability as they age."
Under the streetlamp, Dumbledore slowly spoke, sitting on a long bench.
"That woman just now was still in the early stage of the curse: only her Beast form was large, and she hadn't grown venomous fangs or other organs." The man patted his leg, rubbing his two leather gloves together: "By the late stage, Blood-Cursed Beastmen can even gain the Ability to cast magic without a wand."
Mori Tsukisa sat with her legs together like a primary school student, hands on her knees, listening attentively.
Question: "So, what happens after the late stage?"
"After the late stage? It will always be like this."
"Like this?"
"After the late stage ends," Dumbledore nodded: "They will permanently turn into a Beast. The human body, soul, mind, and emotions all disappear, leaving only the Beast's bestiality and the transformed body."
"Otherwise, why call it a curse?"
Mori Tsukisa, half-understanding, asked again: "But it's human now?"
Dumbledore understood.
Asking such a question indicated that the girl in front of him did not belong to the Wizarding World, and it was even likely that today was her first time entering it. Otherwise, no human living here would ask such an unanswerable question.
"Yes, it... she, is considered human now." Dumbledore carefully chose his words: "Considered."
"What do you mean by 'considered'?" Mori Tsukisa looked at the man with a smile: "She's clearly human, just cursed. It's strange, you wizards seem to despise non-human species, huh?"
Dumbledore didn't speak; he looked at the girl's lively face, not knowing how to explain. The three shadows under the streetlamp were quietly silent.
After a while, the black cat suddenly spoke: "Now you understand them."
These words made the middle-aged man frown.
He suddenly realized that from then until now, this girl hadn't shown an iota of sympathy or lament: she merely asked curiously, listened curiously, nodded curiously—then silently stroked the black cat on her lap.
This matter should have been a heavy blow to an underage girl who was new to the Wizarding World and had just glimpsed a cruel corner of it.
Is she... normal like this?
Dumbledore vaguely felt some suspicion.
As he was thinking, the girl beside him had already smoothed her dress and stood up gracefully.
"Thank you for your company today, Mr. Dumbledore." She gracefully curtsied to the man, her beautiful face glowing with a silvery mist in the moonlight: "I'm going home; my sister baked cookies and is waiting for me."
"I'll see you..."
"No need." Mori Tsukisa curved her eyes, the tear mole at the corner of her eye looking even more alluring in the flowing silver light: "If she finds out a middle-aged man walked me home, I probably won't be able to come out next time."
"Goodbye, Mr. Dumbledore."
The gauze dress dispersed a silvery mist, and the mysterious girl clacked away on her small heels... The monster show was not very successful.
This was due to his own fall, and also due to Nagini's lack of cooperation.
It's alright, deal with them one by one, slowly, Skender. You're still in your prime, and aside from being a bit fat, you're still very handsome; the Galleons in your pocket have also increased quite a bit during this global tour.
Where is the next destination?
Skender sat on a blanket in his pajamas, alone in his tent.
A basin of fire burned brightly in front of him, casting a reddish glow on the man's face. Several gilded candelabras were placed decoratively on a wooden cabinet, and behind stacks of pie and cookie plates, half a bottle of unfinished red wine stood.
Dinner was lavish, but only for the director; it was his circus, and of course, he called the shots.
Outside the tent, things were much simpler; most other members lived in small rooms, which, although enchanted with the Undetectable Extension Charm, still seemed very cramped.
Seven or eight young men huddled together, chewing dry bread, while holding a bowl of yellow soup in their other hand.
"What's wrong with you today?"
The employees chatted in twos and threes, the center of their conversation, of course, being the guy who carried the stool for Skender.
"How would I know that—"
"Shh..."
"How was I supposed to know that stool was broken?" The young man who spoke lowered his voice and glanced outside the tent. "Skender is a bastard; he should have lost weight a long time ago!"
"No, 'bastard' isn't right." Another young Boy chimed in, his mouth gurgling with juice, making his speech slurred. "He's a... Vam... Vampire!"
"Shh..."
The employees were trembling with fear yet remained firm in cursing their boss. The conversation drifted along, slowly moving from Skender to the circus animals.
"What's the deal with that snake-woman bitch?"
"No idea where that old Vampire got her from. She messed up her second performance."
"What a pain. I have to stay up late later to give the Kappa a bath."
Venting their frustrations, the firelight in the tent gradually dimmed. Everyone crawled into their blankets, and in the quiet night, the raspy caw of a Crow could be heard outside.
"Do you guys think..."
"Hmm?"
"That snake..."
"Hey, don't get any bad ideas! Even if one could... cough... it wouldn't be your turn."
The rustling sound of blankets being turned.
"How boring. I wanted to see for myself; it should be quite comfortable."
"Once you take out old Skender, you can see all you want."
"When I take him out, I'll give myself a triple salary raise first."
A burst of low laughter.
"Is the menagerie locked up?"
"Of course."
—The lock on the menagerie was a magic lock. Skender had spent thirty-five Galleons to have a Great Fairy forge it.
'No one can open a lock made by a fairy.'
Skender strongly agreed.
It was a massive, square bronze lock with a very deep, round keyhole, meaning the key to open it would be quite large and long.
The surface and bottom of the lock were engraved with exquisite magic runes, including but not limited to defense, counterattack, and early warning spells. In general, if one didn't encounter Mori Tsukisa, this lock would indeed be as the fairy said—impossible for most to open through normal means.
—Mori Tsukisa tiptoed lightly into the menagerie, her dark green fingernails poking the lock: "It's actually quite pretty."
Immediately after, an exasperated voice appeared behind her.
"Didn't you say you were going home?!"
The young girl turned around in surprise, her small hand covering her mouth.
"What are you'surprised paw-pad-ing' about?! You're a ball-mage who doesn't keep her word!"
Bastet leaned against the corner, standing on two legs with front paws crossed over her chest, looking furious: "You actually told me to go back and rest first! Mori Tsukisa!"
"Heehee... I was afraid you'd be short on sleep."
Bastet:... The black cat didn't want to deal with Mori Tsukisa. With a stony face, her slender body leisurely slipped into the menagerie, then... slipped out from the other side—glancing provocatively at Mori Tsukisa, then nodding toward the magic lock, mockery written all over her face.
"I'm going in..."
"I'm coming out again..."
"I'm slipping in again..."
"Slipping out again."
"Someone is a big dummy who can't get in... and can't open the magic lock either..."
"Those two big balls are such a hindrance... look at how agile and sleek I am..."
"How tragic... some people... Ah!! My tail!!"
"Tail, tail, tail!"
"Mori Tsukisa!!"
One could tell what happened just by the sound.
Today was another day where Bastet's tail was bald and short.
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