Chapter 25 Spirituality in Painting
The old man sat in the house and looked up out of the window, where the moonlight was hazy and the clouds were covering the fog.
He looked happy and was holding a cane.
As soon as Meka Anders walked in, there was a sound of water under her feet. She stepped into the door and approached the old man.
But what was surprising was that the old man suddenly turned his head sideways with bright eyes.
Meka was surprised, could the old man see him? In the past, we didn’t always show the life scene of the owner of the relic, so why is it different this time?
"Interesting." The old man smiled at Meka.
Mekaton felt his scalp numb and had the urge to run away, but the old man sat there without getting up. He resisted the urge and watched what changes happened here.
The old man stamped his cane on the ground, and there was an ethereal and distant thud in the dim room.
"The ground is so solid, I thought it was fake." He said with a smile: "I have been sitting in the painting for too long, I can't count how many years. I didn't expect to be able to come to the home where I was alive."
Meka completely believed it now. The old man saw him and he was alive.
"Are you Principal Black?" Meka's heart beat like a drum and asked, "You shouldn't..."
"Shouldn't be dead long ago, right?" The old man stroked his goat-like beard: "To be precise, I am Black, and I am not Black."
"The real Phineas Nigellus Black died of old age in the snow at Hogwarts. I am the spirit of the paintings he made, but I only have his appearance and memory."
The old man squinted his eyes: "I didn't give myself a new name either. You can call me whatever you want. Blake is dead anyway."
Meka stayed where she was, not knowing how to react. This thing is so strange that it makes people feel a little overwhelmed.
The old man looked at Meka and frowned: "I thought you were a Slytherin student. It's a pity. I wanted to leave something for future generations, but you turned out to be a Gryffindor."
Meka spoke: "You don't have a good opinion of Gryffindor?"
The old man shook his head: "Gryffindor is a great wizard. As a descendant, I am not qualified to judge him. But, as a member of the Slytherin faction, I naturally take more care of the younger generations of Slytherin House."
He thought for a while and beckoned: "Come here. Although I have inherited Black's prejudice, since you are here, I will give you something."
Meka was too suspicious and didn't dare to go up. Who knew what the old man could do and whether he could hurt himself in the dream.
Seeing that he did not dare to step forward, the old man was surprised and said: "Are you a Gryffindor student? I think you are so suspicious and so defensive of the principal of your own school. You should be in Slytherin."
Meka didn't respond.
The old man smiled and said: "Don't worry, the existence here seems to depend on you. If something happens to you, this space will be awakened immediately. I won't do that. It's hard to find a new place to breathe."
"What's more, you are a pure-blood wizard. Black has a crush on pure-blood wizards, and I have inherited his opinion."
As a result, Meka still didn't trust him. The old man stretched out his hand and said helplessly:
"You are really paranoid, come here."
Meka was horrified. A huge force grabbed his body and flew towards the old man quickly. It was as if a huge air flow was generated behind him, pushing him forward and unable to stop at all.
Meka was three meters away from the old man, but suddenly hit an invisible film. After the impact, this invisible film appeared, and the light and rhyme flowed, flowing in seven colors.
But Meka finally stopped and fell to the ground.
The old man frowned deeply: "Black's spirituality not only created me, but also locked me."
He looked at Meka: "Boy, find the blood of magical animals and sprinkle it on this painting to break this spirituality."
Meka got up from the ground and asked doubtfully: "Aren't you also made of spirit? In this case, aren't you also?"
"Yeah, so what?" The old man laughed loudly: "That painting is too narrow. I can't do anything sitting in it. I can't read or speak. I can only see the same things. It's like being in jail." Same, who wants to go in there?”
"What's more, I've been in it for a long, long time. If I die, I'll die. I don't have to go back to the painting. Isn't that a good thing?"
Only this time did Meka realize that the old man could no longer stand the environment in the painting and was eager to leave.
The old man added: "This painting is just a manuscript, and I am just a defective product, but Blake's spirituality is still powerful, and it requires the blood of more powerful magical animals to be effective."
The image of the three-headed dog flashed through Meka's mind: "Can the three-headed dog from hell do it?"
"A three-headed dog from Greece?" The old man smiled and said, "Of course, no problem, go ahead."
He reached out and flicked it, and Meka heard the sound of broken glass. The space was shattered, a powerful storm swept through, and the sky was spinning.
…
As soon as the sky dawned, Meka put away the portrait at hand and put it in a drawer. He looked out the window and thought about his dream last night.
"Principal Black said that the spirituality of the self-portrait must be broken with the blood of a three-headed dog."
"But where can the blood of a three-headed dog be obtained so easily?"
Meka had no choice but to explore, and almost died at the mouth of the three-headed dog because of Quirrell's methods. If he really wanted to take the blood of the three-headed dog, I'm afraid it would cause greater disturbances and lead to greater dangers.
"I heard that the Weasley twins have been selling some weird stuff lately."
Meka thought that Ron's twin brothers had the habit of collecting some weird things. Maybe they could find a solution from them.
He simply washed up and inquired all the way until he arrived outside the Weasley twins' dormitory.
"Hey? What a rare guest."
As soon as he entered the door, George Weasley, who had a slightly longer face, had his eyes light up, as if he had seen a gold galleon, and welcomed Meka in.
Brad Weasley had just finished washing up and was wiping his face with a towel. When he saw Meka coming in, he laughed:
"I was wondering why I was in such a good mood today. It turns out that Mr. Anders is here."
Meka also laughed: "Brad, just call me Meka. I came here today because I have a question to ask you."
"What's the question?" George asked curiously.
Brad patted his chest: "Tell me about it. We brothers are the best at solving problems."
Meka thought: "I need a tool to draw blood from animals. The skin of this animal is thick, so the tool should be sharp enough."
George smiled and said: "There are many things that meet your requirements."
Meka thought of the ferocious and scary appearance of the three-headed dog. It would be best if he could give it a sneak attack while it was asleep or doing something else.
He added: "This tool should be small and can be hidden on the body. When it draws blood, it should make very little noise, and it is best not to be noticed by the animal whose blood is being drawn."
"Are there any other requirements?" Brad asked.
"That's all."
George thought about it: "The requirement for a small tool is easy to solve, but if the latter is included, it will not be so easy to find."
Brad was about to speak when he suddenly saw George blinking his eyes. He coughed:
"Of course, we have some connections. If there is money to pave the way, no matter how difficult the problem is, we can find someone to solve it for you."
Meka took out a silver Sickle and slapped it on the table.
George took a look and said with embarrassment: "A silver Sickle? That's not easy. You know, those alchemists are not so easy to deal with."
"Yeah." Brad's face wrinkled into a ball, and said: "You didn't see that those alchemists have bad tempers and are as hard as stones in a stinky ditch. Talking to them is simply a torture."
"This..." Meka hesitated for a while, fumbled around for a while, and then took out a gold galleon with pain:
"This is the last gold galleon I have. It was sent by my family a few days ago. If you can help me solve the problem as soon as possible..."
George's eyes lit up when he saw the gold galleon, and Brad coughed quickly.
George woke up with a start, frowned, put his fist to his mouth, and thought:
"Meka, you know, when you ask alchemists for something, they always drag their feet."
"But people are greedy for money, and alchemists are no exception. If the price is higher..."
Meka turned out his pockets, only two silver Sickles, and the rest were copper nats.
He spread his hands and sighed:
"Don't be afraid of you laughing at me, George. This is all I have left. This is the change my family gave me. After today, I'm afraid I'll have to tighten my belt."
George and Brad looked at each other, as if they were communicating with each other.
Meka gritted his teeth and slapped the silver Sickle he had just put back into his pocket on the table again: "This silver Sickle is also included. I will only keep one for myself."
George's eyes lit up and he sighed: "Forget it. I also know that you, Meka, are living in poverty. It's not easy to come up with these. Brad?"
Brad patted his chest and said: "Three days, three days later, I will give the things to you."
Meka walked out of the twin brothers' dormitory with satisfaction.
...
Three days later.
The water bird flew to the windowsill, spread its wings in the bright sunshine, and made a crisp cry.
Meka by the window finally woke up slowly.
He woke up Harry and Ron who were still sleeping soundly. After washing up, they rushed to the flying class classroom, which was an open-air square.
...
...
