The creature was ferocious by nature, twisting its body as it tried to break through Marcel's Impediment Jinx.
Marcel's eyes narrowed, and he immediately used the Christmas gift Snape had given him.
"Sectumsempra!"
The spell, an invisible sword, was exceptionally sharp. With a single strike, it tore the attacking creature apart, and it fell into the bushes with a thud.
"A Peruvian Vipertooth?" Marcel looked on doubtfully. "Did Ravenclaw have a hobby of collecting magical creatures?"
But before he could think further, there was another movement up ahead.
There were indeed many magical creatures on this small island. Although most of them were not highly dangerous, they still delayed him for a considerable amount of time.
What made him a little curious was that he had discovered many large pits in the forest. The trees around these pits were mostly toppled, and the soil turned up in some of the pits looked very fresh, with a faint hint of moisture...
After he had once again killed an attacking creature and habitually pushed aside the bushes, his view suddenly cleared.
It was a strange building in the middle of the forest. It looked like a single tower, but many large and small pointed huts extended from its outer walls. Although the individual huts did not look very large, the overall structure appeared rather bloated.
At the very top of the tower was a huge eagle-shaped crest, a golden eagle on a black background, which was extremely eye-catching, as if proclaiming the identity of the owner of this place.
A long time had passed. The building was already covered in green vines, presenting a vibrant appearance.
Marcel walked to the main entrance and slowly pushed open the somewhat stuck door. He was surprised to find that the inside was as clean and natural as if it had just been built, as if the owner had just left that morning.
Vylie was still following obediently behind him, but her gaze was fixed on some wildflowers by the door.
Upon entering, they were in a fairly spacious circular hall. The walls were adorned with tapestries and other decorations. The floor was paved with large stone tiles, but there was not much wear and tear.
In the middle was a spiral staircase that led all the way to the top of the tower. Looking up, a faint light could be seen filtering in. But because the wall sconces were not lit, the hall felt a bit gloomy.
Marcel and Vylie stepped inside. After a closer look, they found that the canvases on the walls were left with only their backgrounds, and the cabinets were empty. It seemed there was nothing of value here.
On the second floor, there was a large room. He went in for a quick look and found that it seemed to be a study, but the bookshelves inside had already been emptied.
"Perhaps they were all moved to Hogwarts," Marcel couldn't help but think.
Further up were two smaller bedrooms.
Although many things had already been taken away, there were still some things left in the room on the right. Marcel went in to have a look and immediately discovered that on a desk, there were several old books piled up.
"Magical Creature Experiment Notes?"
He flipped through them casually and found that they not only recorded a lot of experimental data, but also interspersed many casual reflections of the day between the later experimental entries.
Some of the content was related to the experiments, but the further he read, the more personal musings on daily life appeared.
"The name 'Eoin' appears quite a lot," Marcel couldn't help but mutter to himself as he read. "From a stranger to gradually developing feelings... why does this feel like I'm peeking into someone's personal diary?"
He thought about what the little bronze eagle had said—"This is also the place where Rowena and Ravenclaw met"—and quickly flipped to the title page.
The signature on it puzzled him—Rowena Myra.
"Rowena Ravenclaw's real name? Where was Rowena from?"
Although he couldn't figure it out at the moment, this was not the main purpose of his visit. Marcel closed the notebook and casually stuffed it into his suitcase.
"Anyway, Rowena definitely doesn't need it anymore. I'll just keep it for her..."
But just then, the ever-silent Vylie unexpectedly spoke up.
"Mother said stealing is not good."
Marcel looked at her exquisite, expressionless face and felt he didn't even have the strength to retort.
"Alright, alright, I'll put it back."
As he was speaking, a series of pops sounded around them. A large group of small elves instantly surrounded them, blinking their large, round eyes as they looked at him and Vylie.
"Who are you?"
"Oh! It's a human!"
"Wow, it really is a human!"
"Ooh! It's just like Mother said, so tall!"
Marcel stared blankly at the chaotic chatter around him—he found he couldn't understand a word.
Fortunately, the house-elves seemed to have no ill intentions; they were just looking him and Vylie up and down, as if they hadn't seen a person in a very long time.
Marcel roughly counted. There were more than thirty of them. But when he inadvertently turned his head, he found that even the doorway and the corridor behind him were crowded with house-elves of various appearances. The number was so great he couldn't see the end of them.
These elves gave a completely different feeling from other house-elves.
They were tall and short, fat and thin—although the tallest was less than half a man's height, each had a distinct appearance and unique behavior.
Even with the same large ears and long, flat noses, they had their own individual characteristics.
Of course, the biggest difference was their clothes!
It was common knowledge that house-elves did not wear proper clothes. They were intelligent magical creatures conquered by wizards in ancient times. From the first generation's extensive servility training, each subsequent generation was taught by the already enslaved parent house-elves. This was passed down from generation to generation, and the status of a slave had even become their nature.
And slaves could not wear proper clothes—that was proof that they had been abandoned by their masters. This concept was even carved into their souls.
If you gave a house-elf a piece of clothing, even just a sock or a glove, they would scream and run away. It was a cruel reality they absolutely could not accept.
This had not changed even in the kitchens of Hogwarts.
But the elves in front of Marcel gave him a feeling of freedom. In none of them did he see the deep-seated servility.
"Are you... um, Rowena's..." Marcel struggled to find the right words, speaking them one by one. "Are you Rowena Myra's... friends?"
Instantly, the large group of elves began to chatter all at once. The chaotic scene made Marcel's head spin.
"Oh! The human is speaking!"
"Yes! Yes! He's asking if we're friends with the witch Rowena Myra!"
"Of course we're not friends with the witch Rowena Myra!"
"Ooh, that's right! We've never even met her!"
"But my grandfather's grandfather's grandfather's... how many grandfathers ago was it?"
"Who knows! I can't remember!"
As the group of elves were chattering away, a cough came from outside the door.
"Ahem, quiet! Have you forgotten the rules? What are you supposed to do when we have guests?"
An elderly elf suddenly walked in from outside the door. Marcel immediately noticed that the surroundings became quiet. A moment later, a few elves by the table stepped aside, and with a pop, an elf appeared with a tray and placed two cups of tea on the table.
Marcel opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. Did they not understand him?
As he was thinking, he heard another similar commotion from outside.
"Oh! Those stupid dragons are here again!"
"Chase them away, chase them away!"
"Heavens! Those big things have lost their minds!"
"Yeah, yeah! Their memory is so bad. They were just chased away a few days ago!"
Marcel was stunned. He saw the elves in the room Apparate one by one. He hurried to the window and saw a sight that a wizard outside the island would rarely see in their lifetime.
A group of dragons was charging straight through the invisibility barrier. Their blackish-green scales and long, glittering golden horns made it easy to identify their species—they were a group of Romanian Longhorns!
Marcel roughly counted. There were more than twenty of them, large and small combined.
An adult Romanian Longhorn could grow up to 40 feet long. Although it wasn't the largest of the dragons, its ferocity was not to be underestimated.
Just as Marcel was hesitating about whether to do something, he saw the same red halo appear on the outer wall of the tower below him.
The halo grew larger and larger, enclosing the entire tower. From a distance, it looked like a red ring had been added outside the tower.
The group of dragons flapped their wings and charged over at high speed. But just as they gradually approached a certain range around the tower, the red halo around the tower suddenly trembled and then silently expanded.
The dragons were clearly in a bit of chaos. They tried to use their flying abilities to dodge, but it was too late—the halo was too fast!
As soon as the dragons were touched by the halo, they let out a series of mournful cries and were pushed back to the edge of the island by the rapidly expanding halo, with no power to resist. Several of the dragons couldn't even maintain their flight and fell into the shallow waters by the sea, splashing up a great deal of water.
But the remaining dozen or so dragons were not discouraged. They seemed to have gotten used to this situation. After readjusting their positions, they charged towards the tower again, their speed noticeably faster than the first time.
Marcel looked down. A red light seemed to be gathering around the tower again, but it didn't seem to be able to form a halo again for a while.
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