The streets of Italy have a dazzling sense of color.
On either side of the not-so-wide streets, the buildings that stand shoulder to shoulder are mostly colorful. Even with the bold use of color, there is not much sense of disharmony. Besides the overflowing exotic atmosphere, even Marcel could feel the precipitation of the Renaissance within it.
But right now, Marcel was in no mood to admire these beautiful street scenes. His destination was Pachino, located at the southernmost tip of Italy.
It was a small coastal town on the island of Sicily, with low earthen walls and tiled houses everywhere. A variety of potted plants and the green vines covering the exterior walls of the houses made the place look full of life.
Vylie eagerly slid off Marcel's Nimbus 2000 and hurried to the door of a house. She just stared at the row of flower pots in front of the door, and no matter how Marcel called her, she wouldn't move.
No matter what he said, Vylie's only answer was, "Just a little longer."
Seeing that the Fae-Fade Potion had already worn off, passersby on the street would occasionally glance over. Helplessly, Marcel could only smile awkwardly and nod at them.
Perhaps they just thought the two children looked interesting, but Marcel had no penchant for being stared at.
"Let's go! If we don't leave now, we're going to become monkeys in a zoo."
He grabbed Vylie's slender wrist and forcibly pulled her along the street.
He had thought Vylie would at least struggle a bit, but she let him pull her along obediently, and they smoothly arrived at the entrance of a hotel.
The prevalence of English among Italians was clearly not very high. What's more, two children in their early teens showing up at a hotel to check in looked like a joke no matter how you looked at it.
Helplessly, Marcel had to give the hotel owner a "Confundus Charm" as a gift before he could finally complete the check-in procedures. Fortunately, he was now far from the surveillance range of the British Ministry of Magic, so there were no scruples about using magic for the time being.
"I should go practice the Apparition Charm again..." Marcel muttered to himself, looking at the gradually darkening sky outside.
Vylie had already settled in, right next door to him.
Now, he had found the trick to dealing with Vylie. As long as he gave her a plant, no matter what kind, she could stare at it for an hour or two. What's more, Marcel hadn't just shown her one or two plants, but his own new herbology notebook.
Compared to the one he had given as a Christmas present, the contents of this new notebook were much more substantial. It was clear that Vylie was very interested. She sat by the window and began to read it carefully.
But in fact, Vylie did not stare at his notebook nonstop as Marcel had imagined.
She was currently leaning over the small coffee table by her bed, comparing it with Marcel's notebook and writing something in her own notebook, word by word.
After a while, she closed her notebook.
"The flowers in the Muggle world are more beautiful than those in the magical world."
Vylie turned her head and stared blankly at the sky outside the window. It was now dusk, and the golden sunset blended into the background of the various buildings, looking very beautiful.
"He said we're going out to sea tomorrow... Are there plants in the sea?" she wondered, staring at the faintly visible sea level in the distance, seemingly with some anticipation, but her expression remained as calm as ever.
Suddenly, Vylie turned her head and looked at the closed door, staring at it motionlessly as if she wanted to see through it.
"He is a very good person," she said.
The sun gradually set, the afterglow of the sunset became more and more brilliant. The view outside the window was still bright, but it was slowly getting a little chilly.
Vylie sat quietly in her chair, doing nothing. She seemed very used to this time alone, just calmly looking at everything around her, as if she were just another object in the room.
Time passed bit by bit, just like Vylie's usual life, serene and leisurely...
It was just getting dark outside, but the night came very early for the people of Pachino. The sun had just dipped below the mountains, and there were already few people wandering the streets.
Marcel found a flat, deserted rock by the sea and, with a look of frustration, practiced Apparition, which showed no signs of improvement. Everything seemed to be proceeding in an orderly manner.
But what Marcel didn't expect was that at this moment, Quirrell—or rather, Voldemort—was clinging to life in the forests of Albania.
Eleven years ago, when Voldemort had tried to kill the Potter family, Harry's mother, Lily, had sacrificed herself for her son. And Voldemort, his body destroyed by his own rebounding Killing Curse, had been reduced to a disembodied spirit.
After that, his fragmented soul had hidden deep in the forests of Albania. This hiding lasted for ten years.
A year ago, he had finally met Quirrell, who was on vacation there, and had successfully subjugated him, being easily brought to Hogwarts Castle.
But who would have known that Voldemort, who had his sights set on the Philosopher's Stone, would once again meet with failure. Furious, he had returned to this remote and familiar place.
At this moment, Quirrell was leaning weakly against the trunk of a large tree. He was clutching his left shoulder with his right hand, while his left arm hung limply by his side.
Clearly, Dumbledore's blow had injured him severely.
Voldemort had long since released his control over Quirrell. He was still attached to the back of Quirrell's head, but the fierce battle that day had consumed a lot of his power, leaving the already weak him even more drained.
On the large tree behind Quirrell, a hollowed-out tree hole could be faintly seen. A few strands of vine hung from the entrance, and one would not notice it without looking closely.
This was the tree hole where the Diadem of Ravenclaw had been hidden, the location of which Voldemort had pried from Helena's lips years ago. Because of its seclusion, Voldemort had not hesitated to choose this place as his hiding spot.
"Master... I feel... very unwell," Quirrell said weakly, forcing his eyelids open.
Voldemort did not respond. Perhaps he was focusing on recovering his strength, or perhaps he simply didn't want to waste his breath on it.
Seeing his master's lack of response, Quirrell looked blankly at the bushes in front of him. After a while, he closed his eyes again.
A long time passed. Suddenly, Quirrell's eyes shot open, his crimson irises carrying a sinister glint.
For some reason, Voldemort had taken control of Quirrell's body again.
He slowly stood up and, without looking back, walked step by step deeper into the forest.
The farther he went, the taller and lusher the surrounding trees became. The intertwining canopies blocked out the moonlight, making the forest increasingly dark.
But Voldemort seemed not to need light at all. Although his steps were slow, he accurately navigated around the numerous trees, not even touching the winding roots under his feet.
Walk, keep walking, without stopping...
The slope of the mountain gradually became steeper. On many of the large, steep slopes, Voldemort had to lie on the ground and slide down. The long walk was making his movements more and more strenuous, but he still did not stop.
This was all because he had a place he had to go—while he could still control Quirrell's body to move.
Finally, when he pushed aside the bushes in front of him again, a dilapidated ancient temple appeared ahead.
Voldemort controlled Quirrell to walk to the entrance of the ancient temple. Looking at the half-collapsed stone floor inside, a rare hint of hesitation appeared on his face.
But it wasn't long before he started walking again, making his way inside.
Only upon entering this small ancient temple could one see that under the broken and collapsed stone floor tiles, a dark and gloomy corridor was revealed.
It was extremely dark inside. After just two steps, his figure was completely swallowed by the shadows, leaving no trace.
…
The next morning, along the coast of Pachino.
"Sit tight, we're leaving!"
Vylie sat behind Marcel, her hands tightly gripping his clothes. Although her face was expressionless, she seemed to have a slight fear of heights.
Marcel naturally didn't notice Vylie's state; otherwise, he would have noticed it on the flight from Rome.
With a push of his foot, the Nimbus 2000, carrying both him and Vylie, still flew at a high speed. In a flash, they had left the shore.
They were flying towards the center of the Mediterranean Sea. There, a small island was concealed by magic. If Marcel hadn't been holding the nautical chart, he would never have been able to find it.
But even so, after flying over a stretch of sea for a while, Marcel suddenly felt the surroundings blur. By the time he reacted, he saw a small island appear in front of him. A soft white light emanated from the top of a high tower in its center.
"A light-absorbing barrier? An amplified version of a Disillusionment Charm?" Marcel glanced back, then flew straight towards the high tower.
As he approached the tower, he immediately discovered that it had many permanent enchantments on it. Most were harmless, only used to maintain the tower and repel Muggles; but some were passive defensive magic.
Seeing a red circle of light appear on the tower, Marcel immediately backed away.
"Looks like I'll have to walk over honestly."
He brought Vylie down into the forest below. Although he brushed against the branches of a tree, he still landed steadily on the ground.
"Ptooey!"
Marcel spat out the leaf that had clung to his mouth and turned to look at Vylie.
"Don't move!"
He said, gently brushing the leaf from the top of Vylie's head, then continued, "Alright, let's go have a look inside."
But before he could take more than a few steps, he immediately noticed something was wrong.
"...Something's there," Marcel immediately drew his wand, vigilantly observing his surroundings.
Before long, there was a rustle in the branches to Marcel's front left, as if something big was about to charge at him.
"Impedimenta!"
Marcel gave his wand a sharp flick.
Instantly, even the trembling leaves nearby slowed down. The next moment, a hideous, gaping maw suddenly emerged from between the branches, its sharp fangs clearly visible.
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