Chapter 140 Handicrafts Made From Local Materials

The days in Azkaban are indeed very peaceful, and there is no shortage of food and water-the Ministry of Magic will send people to deliver supplies regularly, and then the dementors will distribute them to every prisoner every day.

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

Although, many prisoners went on hunger strike due to an unbearable sense of hopelessness.

But at least, for Maca, 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 belongings outside, which made it impossible for him to conduct many researches here...

Lately, Maca has been chipping wood with previously polished flakes.

On the edge of the cemetery behind Blackstone Fortress, there is a thick growth of Scots pine. Of course, they are very common in the UK and are often used as Christmas trees.

But now, Maca has selected some branches and is constantly cutting out small wooden sticks more than ten inches long, as if he wants to do some manual work.

And just under his ass, a dementor was struggling. The black cloak it was wearing was too close in color to the black stone ground on the island, and it was really hard to distinguish it from a distance.

Suddenly, Maca dropped the stone in his hand, and picked up the wooden sticks on the ground to examine them carefully.

It can be noticed that when he took it in his hand, he could vaguely see a small hole in the broken part of the wooden stick, as if he was going to stuff something long and thin into it.

"...All right." Maca nodded, then stood up.

The dementor under him immediately floated up, eager to escape to the distance. But it never expected that Maca stretched out his hand, grabbed it by the neck and pulled it back.

The silver-white light on his body brightened instantly, his left hand pinched the dementor's neck, his right hand suddenly lifted, and slammed down on the back of the dementor's neck.

Hearing a "click", the dementor in his hand immediately struggled violently. It swung its hands and feet crazily, but it couldn't hurt Maca, who was covered in silver-white mist, at all.

Without hesitation, Maca kept slashing the dementor's neck with his right hand. He was like a poor executioner, cutting the victim's neck with a blunt knife.

Under normal circumstances, it would be difficult for wizards to injure the dementors, let alone kill them. But the current Maca has managed to do it with this mutated Patronus Charm.

Finally, with a crisp "click", the dementor's neck under the hood was weirdly twisted to one side.

Maca threw the motionless dementor to the ground, then squatted down, tearing off the "standard uniform" of the dementor with a few strokes.

It can be seen that although dementors are humanoid magical creatures, their bodies under the cloak are quite different from humans.

"Although it looks like a human with advanced anorexia...but obviously, the outside of this skeleton is not skin—it's more like a kind of cuticle." Maca turned it over and over carefully, "Well, Has 'ribs' like humans, but only three pairs, and is obviously much thicker... also has a 'pelvis', but a very different shape..."

After several days of careful research, Maca walked leisurely towards the Blackstone Fortress with a bundle of small wooden sticks tied up with branches in his left hand and a suspicious strip that looked like a spine in his right hand.

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

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

Go back to the atrium side of Blackstone Fortress,

Maca was sitting on the floor on the stairs, with his hands shrouded in light and mist arched left and right, twisting the thing that seemed to be a spine with all his strength.

Soon, as the sound of bone rubbing stopped, he gently pulled his right hand out, and a dusty thing that looked like old cotton thread was pulled out by him.

Maca held it and looked at it in front of her eyes, but she couldn't see anything just by looking at it.

He took out an ordinary straw pole from the bundle of small wooden sticks, and connected the "old cotton thread" to one end of the straw pole. Immediately, he threaded it into the small wooden stick like threading a needle.

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

"Flocks of birds." "Boom!"

He took the small wooden stick in his hand and waved it lightly, but there was a loud explosion in exchange.

He patted his hair with a dark face so that it would not keep smoking. Then, he took out the "old cotton thread" in the stick and replaced it with the next stick.

"Fluorescent flickering." "Kacha——"

This time it's even better! You don't even need to take it apart - because the stick itself splits!

I tried one stick after another, but none of them succeeded. I have to say that this experiment was a complete failure.

"Sure enough, the tools are too crude..." Maca shook his head and murmured to himself, "The craft of wand making was figured out at Hogwarts before, but the precision requirement is too high..."

That is to say, but here, everything has to be done.

In the next few days, the torrential rain kept falling, and Maca kept braving the downpour to collect wood.

This process is extremely boring. It is nothing more than peeling sticks, threading "cotton thread", and then peeling sticks... and so on.

Finally, one afternoon...

"... blazing flames!"

At the same time as the mantra was uttered from Maka's mouth, several groups of flames rushed out from the front end of the small wooden stick, landed on the rocky ground and ignited themselves.

"Well... the accuracy is still not enough, and the distance from the target point is a little bit off..." Maca nodded slightly, "But it's made... ah, choo!"

He couldn't help rubbing his nose vigorously.

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

He could feel that although the staff core from the dementor was smooth to use, it obviously had a qualitative bias. I believe that if it is used to cast black magic related to the soul, it must be powerful!

Well, although the appearance of this "magic wand" with a length of about twelve inches is indeed a bit bad, and the control accuracy is relatively low, the power it possesses is still very powerful.

"Perhaps, this is the first wand in the world that uses a dementor's spinal cord as the core." Maca thought with great interest as he played with the broken wooden stick in his hand.

There is still some time before the next step of the plan begins, so there is no rush. After finishing his new wand, he didn't think about polishing it to be more beautiful, but continued to work on other research.

...

Just when the heavy rain in Azkaban had developed into a violent thunderstorm, Harry's side had a clear sky all day long.

Speaking of which, the Quidditch World Cup is coming soon, and Mrs. Weasley enthusiastically wrote a letter inviting Harry to watch the game together.

But everyone knows that even Mr. Weasley, who has always been keen on studying Muggles, only has a half-knowledge about Muggle affairs.

It had been a mistake from the beginning to have chosen to fly to the Dursleys' house—their fireplace was sealed and there was a fake coal-fired electric stove in front of it.

At this moment, there was a heavy knocking sound coming from behind the fireplace.

"What is it?" Harry's Aunt Petunia, who had retreated to the wall, stared at the electric stove in horror, breathlessly asked, "What is it, Vernon?"

Their questions were quickly answered, because several voices came from behind the sealed fireplace.

"Ouch! No, Fred - go back, go back, I must have made a mistake - tell George not to - Oops! No, George, there won't be room here, go back and tell Ron -"

"Maybe Harry can hear us? Dad—maybe he'll let us out—"

Then, several fists hit the wallboard behind the electric furnace heavily.

"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?"

The Dursleys turned on Harry like two angry huskies.

"What's the matter?" growled Uncle Vernon. "What are they doing?"

"They—they're trying to get here on Floo powder." Harry couldn't help laughing out loud, and he had to fight back.

"They can travel on fire, it's just that you sealed the hearth...wait a minute!"

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

The sound of fists hitting the wall stopped immediately.

"Hush!" said someone from the mantelpiece.

"Mr. Weasley, this is Harry...the fireplace is sealed! There's no way you're going to get out of here."

"Damn!" said Mr. Weasley's voice, "why did they seal up the good fireplace?"

"They got an electric stove," Harry explained.

"Really?" Mr. Weasley's voice became excited. "Live, you mean? Got a plug? Great, I've got to see it...Let me see... ouch, Ron! "

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

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

"Oh no, Ron," came Fred's voice, sarcastically, "it's all right, this is exactly where we're going."

"Gee, we're all wasting our time here," said George, his voice muffled, and he seemed to be squeezed against the wall.

"Children, children..." said Mr. Weasley's muffled voice, "I'm trying to figure out what to do... well... that's all... Harry, stand back!"

Harry quickly retreated to the sofa, but Uncle Vernon took a few steps forward instead.

"Wait!" he yelled into the fire, "what on earth are you trying to—"

"boom!"

The sealed fireplace exploded, the electric stove flew across the room, and Mr. Weasley, Fred, George and Ron were thrown out along with a mass of rubble.