Hogwarts: Legacy of the Necromancer

Progress had already been made in the investigation in the United States. The private investigator previously hired by Mr. Cushing, who had been looking into the Sharpe siblings, firmly believed—following Mr. Cushing's death—that the siblings were certainly connected to his murder.

The private detective continued his in-depth investigation and reached out to the one person who had not yet given up on uncovering the truth: Alan McMichael.

A socially elite graduate of a medical school, an ophthalmologist with his own private clinic, a refined, melancholic, and shy man who enjoyed crafting by hand.Now, another attribute could be added to his name: someone who persistently pursued justice through action.

"Hello, Mr. Alan McMichael. I'm glad to see you're still committed to the investigation."

The short-statured private investigator arrived at the prearranged meeting place. Alan McMichael had already been waiting there for quite some time.

"You're still investigating too, aren't you? What should I call you?"

Alan McMichael had long known that Mr. Cushing had been investigating the Sharpe siblings, but he hadn't expected the detective to be such an unremarkable, short man. He realized that he didn't even know the man's name, yet had come out to meet him simply because of a letter. Where did that trust come from?

"My name isn't important. I came this time with new intel. Originally, it was meant for Mr. Cushing, but since he met an unfortunate end—and you're the only one still pursuing the truth—I figured handing it over to you wouldn't be in vain."

The short man handed Alan McMichael a document folder, which contained a stack of photocopied old newspapers.

"My principle is to never get personally involved in a case. So the lives or deaths of those involved—whether the subject or the client—are irrelevant to me. If you want to pursue justice and uncover the truth, that's entirely up to you."

The short detective spoke slowly, giving Alan McMichael a bit of time to look through the contents.

"These are reprinted newspapers from back then. The young siblings mentioned are the Sharpe siblings. Their mother was murdered in the bathroom; the killer and the murder weapon were never found. Afterwards, they were sent to a church orphanage, where they were educated by nuns and priests. Due to their background, they received a noble upbringing—so they could inherit the family estate once they came of age. Of course, there was also the matter of repaying the tuition."

The detective let out a cold snort. Without the inheritance of Crimson Peak, why would the church orphanage bother providing them with a noble education?

"I don't quite understand the value of this evidence. The killer was never found?"

Alan McMichael actually already had an answer in mind, but it was just too hard to believe. They were only ten and eleven years old at the time. Could they have been the killers? That was unthinkable.

"Exactly. The killer was never found. At the time, the only people in the manor were those two siblings. No property was taken either. And Thomas Sharpe, after reaching adulthood, got married—four times. None of his wives survived the local winter. Every single one 'died of illness.'"

The detective jabbed a finger hard at the newspaper, pausing deliberately as he enunciated "died of illness." The implication was clear.

Alan McMichael felt as if a knife had been plunged into his heart. His childhood friend, Edith Cushing, was now in England. Who knew what condition she was in?

"I need your help, sir."

Alan McMichael immediately thought to ask the detective for assistance.

"I'm sorry. As I said before, I don't get personally involved. I only investigate. Perhaps you should contact the local authorities. You already have enough evidence. Good luck."

The detective rejected Alan McMichael's request outright. After all, in the detective world, there was a well-known taboo: detectives who let emotions interfere always end up dead. This was common knowledge in the profession.

Now holding indirect evidence, Alan McMichael couldn't force the man further and could only rush to England, hoping he wasn't too late.

Meanwhile, in England, the blizzard had finally stopped. At a small-town inn, someone handed "Mrs. Sharpe" a letter, which contained a uniquely shaped key. Edith Cushing immediately recognized that it was connected to the box she had previously discovered.

Not long after returning to the manor, Edith Cushing's health began to deteriorate rapidly. She even started coughing up blood.

She had heard of brides bleeding on their wedding night, but never expected to be vomiting blood after the wedding.

Edith Cushing felt she had overlooked something. The rapid decline of her health was definitely not normal. Her gaze shifted to the tea and snacks by the bed. She remembered that every time she had them, she would fall into a deep sleep afterward. Something was definitely wrong with them.

Thinking of that key they had brought back from the inn—it had once belonged to "Mrs. Sharpe," who had stored it with them.

She had never stored any letters at the inn, so why was there another "Mrs. Sharpe"? At the time, she had dismissed the question.

Edith Cushing seized a moment when no one was around, used the key to open the mysterious box, and found a compact reel-to-reel tape recorder inside. When it first came out, this vintage machine was considered quite high-end.

Inside the box were numerous photos and letters. The other half of the box held two rows of six wax-sealed cylinders—these were the audio recording components.

Although she had never used one before, Edith Cushing managed to figure out how to load a cylinder.

The recording captured a woman's faltering voice. She said she had been poisoned, her body was weak, and she was coughing up blood. She didn't expect to survive the winter, so she had left behind this evidence. Everything in the box revealed the crimes of the Sharpe siblings.

In order to fund their excavator research, Thomas Sharpe had married four women in succession—she was the fourth.

Each of the previous women had brought a generous dowry to the Sharpe family. And not long after, each had died from illness during the winter. Now that she too had fallen ill, she was certain they had all been poisoned, not sick.

Edith Cushing listened to the recording in shock, flipping through the letters and photographs in her hands.

There were indeed four photographs of Thomas Sharpe with four different women. Some were overweight, others unattractive, and one was elderly. If not for financial gain, even Edith Cushing couldn't believe he would have married them.

Especially the photo of the elderly woman—Edith had seen that same dog in the picture when she first arrived at the manor. The dog still roamed the halls. The photos were undoubtedly real.

In the fourth photo, an average-looking woman held a baby in her arms while leaning against Thomas Sharpe. The woman had a child, yet she still died. Even having a baby hadn't spared her life.

Moreover, there were no children in the manor now, which meant the child had likely met a tragic end as well.

To kill a child is an almost unthinkable act in Western culture—though it's not as rare as one might hope.

There was one thing Edith Cushing still didn't understand: how had the first four women managed to obtain the tape recorder? That didn't make sense.

Edith Cushing resolved to search for more evidence herself. But the manor was enormous, spanning four floors plus a basement.

Each floor had two guest rooms on the east, south, and west sides, with only the north side serving as a communal area. The first floor held the kitchen, dining room, and bathroom. The second and third floors were connected by a small library containing a massive collection of books. Edith had been to the fourth floor—it was Thomas Sharpe's studio, where she'd seen excavator blueprints and many small heirlooms from various Sharpe ancestors.

It was said the sibling's father had amassed the largest collection. He traveled extensively, purchasing countless trinkets and squandering the family's fortune—one of the reasons Crimson Peak had fallen into decline.

Searching for evidence in such a vast manor would drive anyone mad.

Since a thorough search was impossible, Edith Cushing found herself wishing, for the first time, that a ghost would appear to point her in the right direction. When she first arrived at Crimson Peak, her very first ghost sighting had led her to the basement—where she discovered the box holding its terrible secrets.

If she were to see a ghost again, she was determined not to be afraid. The little girl who once feared even her mother's ghost now longed for the spirits' guidance.

And that help came sooner than expected.

"Five victims… that means there'll be five ghosts, right?"

Milla Jovovich curled up on the sofa, wrapped herself in a blanket, and analyzed the situation with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09