Hogwarts: Legacy of the Necromancer

In the blizzard-ravaged Crimson Manor, the only sounds were Edith Cushing's sobs and the barking of the lone dog. The little dog barked furiously at Thomas Sharpe—it clearly sensed that someone had died again, and the killer was standing right in front of it.

"Come now, darling. We still have some papers to sign."

Lucille Sharpe gave her brother Thomas a look of approval as she forcibly pulled the collapsed Edith Cushing up from the sofa.

"Why? Why are you doing this? You shouldn't be doing this."

Edith let Lucille drag her away, but she kept turning her head to look at Thomas, her eyes brimming with tears as she asked why.

Thomas Sharpe stood silently at the entrance. He said nothing, did nothing, and gave no explanation.

Only after Lucille had dragged Edith into the dining room next to the kitchen and the two women disappeared behind the door did he finally move.

"Are you all right? Can you still hang in there?"

Thomas quickly turned around and slapped Alan's face, rousing him from unconsciousness.

"They've left. We don't have much time. I'll take you to the basement first. There's a conveyor belt used to transport the red clay. It leads to the ground outside, far from here. Wait for us there."

As he spoke, Thomas bent down to help Alan up, but the latter stopped him.

After all, what horror movie would be complete without a bloody scene? The ghosts and ghouls in this film weren't particularly terrifying, so naturally it needed gore to ramp up the fear factor.

"Aaaaaaaaah—"

Alan McMichael gritted his teeth and pulled the knife from his own abdomen. Blood spurted out and instantly stained the surrounding snow bright red. The special effects were so realistic that even the audience felt a visceral reaction—as if the knife were embedded in their own bodies, being slowly drawn out.

Of course, it's not impossible that some twisted viewers might actually enjoy such a scene—maybe even... relieve themselves a little.

Thomas Sharpe was stunned as well, involuntarily gulping at the sight.

"You... are you okay? How do you feel?"

Thomas watched as Alan grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it to his wound. He then scooped up more clean snow from the side to help him.

"It doesn't feel like any internal organs were hit. The cold from the snow has frozen the wound shut. I think I can manage a few more hours."

Alan McMichael carefully assessed his condition and reported his findings to Thomas. Judging by everything that had happened so far, Thomas Sharpe still seemed trustworthy—for the moment.

Because of the effects of the poison and the injuries to his back and abdomen, Alan was no longer capable of assisting Edith. In fact, he needed help himself just to survive.

Thomas Sharpe supported Alan as the two of them struggled toward the basement.

In the basement, there were eight water tanks. Five of them were locked and fenced off with iron bars.

Viewers might not have noticed anything unusual before. But after seeing Edith Cushing enter the hidden chamber, they would now understand—these five locked tanks were actually graves. They were used to bury the late Lady Sharpe and Thomas Sharpe's four previous wives.

"If we follow the logic of most horror films, four ex-wives plus Lady Sharpe, then add the Sharpe siblings and the female lead—that's eight people. But now there's an extra Alan. Which means only one person will survive."

Milla Jovovich counted on her fingers. Any seasoned horror fan would easily follow this line of logic. Many plot twists revealed at the end of such films are actually hinted at much earlier in the story.

Thomas placed Alan behind one of the tanks, with his back to the basement entrance.

"When Edith comes down, take her and leave immediately. Tell her… tell her I truly loved her."

Tears streamed down Thomas Sharpe's face. It was unclear whether they were for entrusting the woman he loved to a rival—or for repenting his sins.

In the dining room, Lucille Sharpe took a document from a cabinet—an asset transfer agreement prepared in advance. If Edith Cushing signed it, all of her wealth would instantly belong to the Sharpe family.

"Darling, I've prepared something for you. It just needs your signature."

Lucille pointed to the signature line, her face cold and confident, fully in control.

"Why go through all this trouble? Why not just wait until I die and inherit my estate then?"

Edith Cushing leaned weakly against the edge of the table, her body trembling as though she might collapse at any moment.

"Darling, have you forgotten about estate taxes? If it's an inheritance, the government takes more than half."

Lucille Sharpe wore an expression of helpless frustration—there was nothing she could do about the country's tax laws either.

"The only way to avoid those damned tax authorities is to transfer it yourself."

At this moment, Lucille Sharpe showed not the slightest trace of anxiety. She spoke slowly and steadily, her actions just as measured and calm.

Taking out an ornate pair of gold scissors, she walked behind Edith and began brushing her hair.

"Everyone thinks that as long as they don't sign, they won't die. But the truth is, not signing only leads to more suffering."

With a crisp snip, Lucille cut off a lock of Edith's hair with the golden scissors.

"I'm talking about your four predecessors—Thomas's ex-wives. Some were stubborn, some begged, and some threw wild tantrums."

Lucille seemed to recall something amusing, but her smile quickly faded into sadness.

"You can probably guess who I'm referring to. The fourth one was a bit better—she adopted the child Thomas and I had. The child died young, but I owe her. I once considered sparing her. She truly loved Thomas and even wanted to bear his child. But Thomas never loved her."

As she spoke, Lucille's fingers deftly braided the lock of hair she had just cut.

After tying off both ends, she coiled the braid and placed it into a secret compartment, where four other braids of varying colors were already stored.

"Sometimes I take them out and talk to them. I'm not the type to offer comforting words—I only curse them, wishing them no peace in death. But every time I do, I feel better."

Lucille Sharpe had a lovely smile, with the approachable warmth of the girl next door. But when paired with the disturbing things she was saying, that smile became deeply unsettling.

"You're insane! A deranged, twisted lunatic!"

Tears streamed down Edith Cushing's face. Thinking about everything Lucille had done and listening to what she was saying now, anyone would come to the same conclusion—this woman was utterly mad.

"I don't mind your insults. For every word of abuse, I'll repay you twice over in pain. I'll leave you your right hand and one eye. After all, that's all you'll need to sign."

Lucille placed the fire poker into the fireplace. Her posture and expression made it clear—she was about to start torturing her.

Now Edith Cushing was truly terrified. Torture? That was too much. Couldn't she just die quickly instead?

"Don't do this. I'll sign. I'm willing to sign."

Crushed by Lucille's mental torment, Edith Cushing finally gave in to her cruel authority.

"Here, here, and here too. This one needs a signature as well."

Lucille handed her the pen and documents, flipping through them and pointing out the places where Edith needed to sign.

The pen was beautiful—Gothic patterns of tightly woven vines, with a solid gold nib that wrote with smooth precision.

The documents were also elegant, printed on custom stationery used by noble families. The pale gray paper was inscribed with rows of elaborate cursive writing.

If only this could be used to write my novel, Edith Cushing thought distractedly. But now, all she could do was sign her name, transferring all her assets to the madwoman before her. The gap between dreams and reality was cruel and vast.

"Excellent. With this, Thomas's excavator should finally be successfully developed."

Lucille Sharpe reviewed the documents in her hands, brimming with joy at having secured funding for her brother Thomas. She didn't notice that Edith Cushing was fiddling with the pen.

"Lucille, watch out!"

Thomas Sharpe suddenly burst in, shouting. Lucille turned instinctively toward him—turning her back on Edith.

A moment later, the pen drove straight into Lucille's back, piercing the spot between her neck and shoulder.

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