"The curse master has finally arrived?"
Looking at the description in the letter, Evans felt a surge of satisfaction.
Although Snape's enhanced vitality potion ensured that the Chimaera wouldn't become weaker, continuing like this indefinitely wasn't a viable solution.
Fortunately, after waiting for more than half a month, the specialist had finally arrived.
"Should I call Hagrid and have him bring that Chimaera?" Evans muttered quietly to himself. After pondering for a moment, he shook his head.
Dumbledore had previously mentioned that this curse master might join them on their Christmas holiday trip to the Forbidden Forest, which meant he would stay at the school for an extended period.
If that was the case, there was no need to rush. The Chimaera's condition wouldn't worsen in the short term anyway—treating it a few days earlier or later wouldn't make much difference.
Moreover, he wanted to meet this curse master first and get a sense of his personality.
Curse masters generally had very eccentric personalities. Understanding the person would make future communication considerably more comfortable.
With a wave of his wand, the door to the nearby storage room opened, and the gift he had prepared for the curse master fell into his hands.
It was a bulging package—from its appearance, one couldn't tell exactly what was inside.
But Evans's movements as he tucked it into his pocket were extremely careful, as if it contained some kind of explosive device.
Having this thing in his pocket always made him feel somewhat unsettled, but fortunately, he could finally deliver it now.
A wizard skilled in curses should really appreciate this kind of thing, right?
With this thought, Evans transformed into a silver-white arc of light and disappeared.
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room.
The afternoon classes had ended. Since there wasn't much time left before dinner, Harry hadn't gone to the library but had returned to the common room to rest for a while.
At this moment, the little black cat was lying beside his bed, studying second-year textbooks with great interest. It must be said that Cait Sith's magical talent and learning ability were remarkable—in just a few months, she had already completed all of first-year coursework. In another month or two, her learning progress would probably surpass his own.
After glancing at the studying little black cat, Harry withdrew his gaze, his eyes gradually becoming distant.
In his daze, he always felt like some voice was echoing in his mind, but that voice was ridiculously faint, making it impossible for him to hear clearly.
The daze continued for an unknown duration until short black claws waved in front of him, pulling Harry's attention back.
"What are you doing, meow?"
Steadying himself, Harry replied softly: "Nothing, just thinking about something."
Seeing Harry come back to his senses, Alice slowly breathed a sigh of relief.
"You looked like you'd lost your soul just now, meow!"
After Alice returned to the bed and resumed browsing her textbooks, Harry looked out the window again, his thoughts drifting far away.
Since a few days ago, he had been experiencing a very strange sensation from time to time.
The feeling was like several things of the same origin as himself were calling to him, making him unable to resist wanting to respond.
He had never experienced such a sensation before, and no matter how he tried to sense it, he couldn't detect where this calling originated from. This made him both curious and fearful.
What exactly was calling to him? Where did this feeling come from?
He had previously tried asking Hermione and Percy, among other top students, but they had never heard of such a mystical feeling either.
He pondered deeply for quite a while until Ron returned to the common room, but still couldn't reach any useful conclusions.
"It's almost dinner time. Want to eat together?"
"Let's go."
Getting up from the bed, the studying little black cat also jumped onto his head and gradually became invisible.
He had thought about this feeling many times over the past few days but hadn't reached any useful conclusions.
He'd better wait until the weekend gathering and ask Professor Kahn to see if he might know about this situation.
A silver-white arc of light flashed briefly, and Evans appeared at the headmaster's office door. Reciting the password, the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing the spiral staircase.
Walking up the stairs, Evans first saw a large bald bird standing by the staircase, its eyes filled with resentment.
Due to its approaching rebirth, Fawkes had lost most of his feathers. Probably seeing that flying up to his perch was somewhat difficult, Dumbledore had moved the perch to ground level.
But this made him look even more like a featherless rooster.
Suppressing the smile on his face, Evans comforted the phoenix about to be reborn, then looked around.
The headmaster's office decoration was no different from before. Unless it was a holiday, Dumbledore generally wouldn't decorate his office—after all, those constantly rotating, steam-spouting silver instruments were already adequate decorations.
Most of the surrounding portraits were sleeping, and those few who weren't had their gazes focused on Dumbledore's desk.
Following those portraits' gazes, Evans was slightly stunned, his expression involuntarily becoming somewhat surprised.
Sitting quietly in front of Dumbledore's desk was an elderly man—an extremely gaunt old man with not a bit of flesh on his body. His greying hair had long lost its lustre, making him look like a walking skeleton.
But with just one glance, Evans recognised this old man's identity, and it was precisely this identity that made his eyes widen slightly.
This was the curse Master Dumbledore had sought?
But he remembered that this wizard wasn't particularly famous in the field of curses.
Perhaps it was because his achievements in other areas were too brilliant, causing others to overlook his accomplishments in curses?
This was quite possible—after all, his achievements were simply too dazzling.
Perhaps hearing the commotion at the door, the old man tremblingly turned around to look at Evans, squeezing out a smile on his wrinkled face.
"Hello, Professor Kahn." His voice was somewhat weak, and his movements somewhat shaky, but no one would underestimate this elder because of these minor frailties.
After all, the world's greatest alchemist and sole creator of the Philosopher's Stone—these titles were simply too impressive. Any wizard should have seen his portraits in various places and heard his legendary stories.
"Albus mentioned in his letter that you encountered a very troublesome curse. Although I myself don't much like using curses, having lived so long and personally experienced the Black Death period, the curses I have learnt and witnessed should exceed those of any living curse master."
"I think—I should be able to help you."
"Moreover, I'm also very interested in the seal you mentioned before."
Speaking of this, the elder seemed to suddenly remember something, one hand tremblingly patting his head, his face showing some apology.
"Sorry—meeting for the first time, I should introduce myself first."
"My name is Nicolas Flamel. I'm pleased to meet you."