“Of course, I’m happy to help, my friend.” Rimbaud said, “What do you need them for?”
Scott sat at the small desk and pushed open the window of the wooden house.
He reached out and touched Rimbaud’s wings, “Go to Knockturn Alley to monitor Borgin and Burke, the owner of Borgin and Burke’s shop. I want him to die quietly.”
“My friend, the crows can’t read words and don’t know Borgin and Burke. How can they find their target? So I have to go too.”
Rampaud raised his head proudly.
“Besides, if you want to kill someone, I’m afraid I have to do it myself.”
“Of course, it must be you.” Scott said with a smile, “But I think we can let the crows secretly monitor him first, find out his habits, and then look for opportunities to secretly attack.”
Rampaud nodded in agreement, “After all, he is different from those weak lunatics in Azkaban. If I want to kill a normal wizard, it is still very difficult.”
“So we have to be careful.” Scott said.
He took out some copper knuts from his leather bag. “In addition, I need crows to help me buy the daily “Daily Prophet.”
“That’s no problem!” Rimbaud jumped onto the windowsill and cawing loudly.
Soon, a group of crows flew up from the oak tree next to him.
“I’ll take them to Borgin and Burke first and then come back.”
Rimbaud stretched out his claws and grabbed a copper knut and flew out of the cabin, flying away with the crows.
Scott looked at the distant crows until they turned into black dots and disappeared.
He took out the [Severed Arm Bone] from his pocket, injected more magic into it, and put it on the table.
Then he took off his sneakers and lay on the bed.
“Instead of waiting idly, it’s better to sleep first.” Scott muttered, and soon fell into a dream.
At noon, Rimbaud came back with the “Daily Prophet” of the day and woke Scott up.
“Thank you, Rimbaud.”
Scott leaned back on the soft pillow, took the newspaper and unfolded it.
When he saw some overly lively pages in the newspaper, he was refreshed and all his sleepiness disappeared.
“Shocked everyone! Barty Crouch made a major mistake in the retrial of the old case 12 years ago!”
Picture-Barty Crouch drove the camera away impatiently.
“The false “hero” Peter revealed his true face, and the last heir of the Black family was vindicated!”
Picture-the disheveled Black punched Peter Pettigrew in the face.
“Black and the famous godson hugged and cried, the boy who survived the disaster was happy to receive his father’s love!”
Picture-Black and Harry hugged each other affectionately, and turned their heads to glare at the camera at the same time.
“After 12 years of watching in the dark, Black finally saw the light, and he thanked the Ministry of Magic for its fair judgment with tears in his eyes!”
Picture-Black grinned angrily at the camera.
Scott found that most of the versions of the newspaper in his hand were about the retrial of Black’s old case.
These reports either hit the reputation of Minister Fudge’s political enemy Crouch or praised the Ministry of Magic led by Fudge, but not a single photo fit the news headline.
Scott looked at the photos, especially the photo of Harry, and laughed for a long time.
It seems that Dumbledore did what he wanted to do.
Sirius Black, who was imprisoned in Azkaban without trial, regained his freedom, while the real murderer Peter Pettigrew was imprisoned.
And Harry, who should have been spending the summer vacation at his aunt’s house, was brought to the scene by Dumbledore.
After reading the newspaper, Scott also put his mind at ease.
He thought about it, took out his mobile phone from his pocket and looked at it. There was indeed no signal in the deep forest.
He knew that in order not to worry his family, he had to call back to report his safety.
So he turned to ask Rimbaud, “My friend, can you take me to the town closest to this forest? I need to make a call.”
“No problem.” Rimbaud agreed readily.
Just like the last time he left here, Scott covered his eyes with a cloth strip and cast a bubble head spell on himself, letting the enlarged Rimbaud carry him to fly at the fastest speed.
After a long and fast journey, they landed in a forest on the edge of a small town.
After Scott made Rimbaud smaller, in order not to attract attention, he left it in the forest and walked into the town alone.
This is a quiet town surrounded by mountains and rivers. Scott saw the name of the town, Callender, on the sign.
Scott put on the hood of his sweater and slowly walked into the town’s blocks.
In such a small town, most residents know each other. Although Scott tried to keep a low profile, his arrival still attracted many curious eyes of residents.
Scott could only pretend to be indifferent.
He walked on the street with a pace that was unconcerned, and finally found a telephone booth.
He walked into the telephone booth, closed the door, took out a coin and started to dial the phone number of his great-grandfather’s manor.
The phone rang only once and was picked up.
“Scott! Is that Scott?”
Hearing Emilia’s somewhat anxious voice on the other end of the phone, Scott quickly smiled and replied, “It’s me, Mom.”
“Oh son, I’m so worried, your phone has been unreachable!” Emilia said.
Scott said helplessly, “Sorry, there is no signal on this phone.”
Emilia couldn’t wait to ask again, “Have you decided, how long will you stay there?”
Scott could only promise that he would go to Madrid again before his birthday and spend the entire summer vacation there.
Emilia couldn’t help but tell him a lot of things, and Scott responded one by one, and comforted her for a long time before ending the call.
After hanging up the phone, Scott walked out of the phone booth.
He walked out of the town and entered the forest outside the town under the curious eyes of the town residents.
When leaving, he had to cast a disillusionment spell on himself and Rimbaud.
Otherwise, the picture of him riding a huge crow into the sky might be published in the newspaper.
After returning to the crow territory, Scott and Rimbaud discussed another matter.
He wanted to know how the dispute over the Travers family’s property was going now.
“Just as you expected.”
Rimbaud told him uninterested.
“Now, three pure-blood families that have married into the Travers family have each chosen a child, and they all have Travers blood.”
Scott asked curiously: “How do they decide who is the winner?”
Rampo was obviously more active when talking about this topic, “The three families plan to hold an ancient competition to decide who is most qualified to inherit the Travers family name. Of course, in the presence of other pure-blood families.”
“It’s really interesting.” Scott smiled, “I hope they can do what I want and come up with some tricks to stir up trouble.”
Otherwise, how can he find a chance to seek revenge on the Yaxley family?
