Chapter 141

The days in Azkaban were really peaceful, and there was no shortage of food and water - the Ministry of magic would send supplies regularly, which would be distributed by Dementors to every prisoner every day.

This is also one of the agreements reached with Dementors, because they also don't want to see any loss of these limited "rations".

Although, many prisoners went on hunger strike because of unbearable despair.

But at least, for Maka, this means that he can have a lot of time to toss about his research.

Unfortunately, before entering here, the Ministry of magic left all his items outside, which made it impossible for him to carry out a lot of research here

Recently, Maka has been cutting wood with previously polished stone chips.

At the edge of the cemetery behind Blackstone fortress, there is a very dense Scotch pine. Of course, they are very common in Britain and are often used as Christmas trees.

But now, Maka has chosen some branches and is constantly cutting out sticks more than ten inches long, as if she wants to do some manual work.

And right under his ass, a Dementor was struggling. Its black cloak is too close to the color of the black stone ground on the island, which is really difficult to distinguish from a distance.

Suddenly, Maka dropped the stone in her hand, picked up the sticks on the ground and examined them carefully.

It can be noticed that when he got it, he could vaguely see that there was a small hole in the fracture of the stick. It seemed that he was going to stuff some slender things into it.

"... OK." Maka nodded and stood up.

The Dementor under him immediately floated up and couldn't wait to escape to the distance. But he didn't expect it. Maka stretched out her hand, grabbed it by the neck and pulled it back.

The silver light on his body lit up in an instant. His left hand pinched the Dementor's neck, his right hand suddenly lifted up and fell on the Dementor's back neck.

At the sound of "CLA", the Dementor in his hand immediately struggled violently. It waved its hands and feet wildly, but it could not hurt Maka, who was covered with silver fog.

Without hesitation, Maka's right hand fell together and constantly cut and hit the Dementor's neck. He was like a bad executioner, cutting the victim's neck with a blunt knife.

Under normal circumstances, it is difficult for wizards to hurt Dementors, let alone kill them. But now Maka has done it by this variant patron saint curse.

Finally, with a crisp "click", the neck under the Dementor's hood was strangely crooked to one side.

Maka threw the Dementor who was no longer moving to the ground, then squatted down and tore away the Dementor's "standard uniform" a few times.

It can be seen that although Dementors are human shaped magical creatures, their bodies under their cloaks are quite different from human beings.

"Although it looks like a human in the late stage of anorexia... It is obvious that the outside of the skeleton is not skin - it is more similar to a stratum corneum," Maka observed it carefully over and over. "Well, like humans, there are only three pairs of 'ribs', and it is obviously much stronger... There are' pelvis', but the shape is different..."

After several days of careful study, Maka walked leisurely to Blackstone fortress with a bundle of small wooden sticks tied with branches in her left hand and a suspicious strip that looked like a spine in her right hand.

The clouds in the sky are very thick, and lightning looms from time to time. It seems that a rainstorm is coming soon.

After all, working in the rain is not a good choice.

Back to the atrium of Blackstone fortress, Maka sat on the ground on the stairs, with her hands wrapped in light and fog arched left and right, and twisted up the thing suspected of spine with enough strength.

Soon, with the sound of bone friction interrupted, his right hand gently pulled out, and a gray, which looked like an old cotton thread, was pulled out by him.

Maka held it in front of her eyes and looked at it, but she couldn't see anything just like that.

He pulled out a common straw from the bundle of sticks and connected the "old cotton thread" to one end of the straw. Then, like a needle, he put it into a small stick.

Finally, Maka took out two short wooden sticks from her pocket and blocked the holes in the sticks one after the other.

"Birds." "ho!"

He took the stick in his hand and waved it gently, but there was a loud explosion.

He patted his hair with a dark face so that they wouldn't smoke all the time. Then he took out the "old cotton thread" from the stick and replaced it with the next stick.

"Fluorescent flashing." "click -"

This is even better! You don't even have to dismantle it - because the stick cracked itself!

One wooden stick has been tried one by one, but none has been successful. I have to say that this experiment can be said to have been a complete failure.

"Sure enough, the tools are too simple..." Maka shook her head and whispered to herself, "the magic wand making process was figured out in Hogwarts before, but the accuracy requirements are too high..."

That's right, but here, everything has to make do with it.

In the following days, the rainstorm kept falling, and Maka kept braved the torrential rain to collect wood.

This process is extremely boring. It's nothing more than cutting sticks, wearing "cotton thread", and then cutting sticks... It's just a cycle.

Finally, one afternoon

"... flames!"

While the mantra was read from Maka's mouth, several flames rushed out from the front of the small stick, fell on the rock ground and burned themselves.

"HMM... the accuracy is still not enough, and there is a little deviation from the target..." Maka nodded slightly, "but at least she made... Ah, sneeze!"

He couldn't help rubbing his nose hard.

In fact, this is not the first wand made by Maka. But to be honest, it's really a bad thing to make with such a simple tool.

He could feel that although the core of the staff from Dementors was very smooth to use, it was obviously biased. I believe that if it is used to cast the black magic about the soul, it must be powerful!

Well, although the appearance of this "magic wand" with a length of about 12 inches is really bad and the control accuracy is relatively low, its own power is still very powerful.

"Maybe this is the first wand in the world that uses the Dementor's spinal cord as the core of the wand," Maka thought excitedly, playing with the broken stick in her hand.

There are still some days before the next step of the plan. It is urgent. After finishing his new wand, he didn't want to polish it more beautiful, but continued to be busy with other research.

……

Just as the heavy rain in Azkaban had developed into a violent thunderstorm, Harry had a clear sky all day.

Speaking of the Quidditch World Cup, Mrs. Weasley warmly wrote to invite Harry to watch the game.

But as we all know, even Mr. Weasley, who has always been keen on Muggle research, only knows a little about Muggle affairs.

From the beginning, it was a mistake for them to go to Dursley's house with flyash - their fireplace was sealed and there was a fake electric stove burning coal in front.

At the moment, there was a heavy knock coming from behind the fireplace.

"What?" Harry's Aunt Petunia had retreated to the wall. She stared at the electric stove in fear and asked out of breath, "what, Vernon?"

Their questions were soon answered, for the voices of several people came from behind the sealed fireplace.

"Ouch! No, Fred -- go back, go back, probably wrong -- tell George not to -- ouch! No, George, there's no room here, go back and tell Ron --"

"Maybe Harry can hear us? Dad - maybe he can let us out -"

So, several fists hit the wall panel behind the electric stove heavily.

"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?"

The Dursleys, like two angry huskies, suddenly attacked Harry.

"What's going on?" Uncle Vernon growled. "What are they doing?"

"They -- they want to come here with flyer powder." Harry couldn't help laughing. He had to restrain himself.

"They can travel on the fire, but you sealed the fireplace... Wait a minute!"

He went to the fireplace and shouted through the wall, "Mr. Weasley? Can you hear me?"

The sound of fists hitting the wall stopped immediately.

"Shh --!" said a man in the mantelpiece.

"Mr. Weasley, this is Harry... The fireplace is sealed! You can't get out of here."

"Damn it!" said Mr. Weasley's voice. "Why did they seal off the good fireplace?"

"They got an electric stove," Harry explained.

"Really?" Mr. Weasley's voice became excited. "You mean, live? Is there a plug? Great, I must see... Let me see... Ouch, Ron!"

Ron seemed to be there, and his voice joined them.

"What are we doing here? Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, Ron," said Fred in a sarcastic voice, "nothing's wrong. This is where we're coming."

"Oh, we're all wasting our time here," said George, his voice muffled, and he was probably squeezed to stick to the wall.

"Children, children..." said Mr. Weasley in a vague voice. "I'm thinking about what to do... All right... That's all... Harry, stand back!"

Harry hurried back to the sofa, and Uncle Vernon took a few steps forward.

"Wait!" he shouted at the fire. "What the hell do you want to do -"

"Boom!"

The sealed fireplace burst open, the electric stove flew across the room, and Mr. Weasley, Fred, George and Ron were thrown out with a pile of gravel walls.