Chapter 159: Extreme Hatred Is Also a Kind of Emotion

Compared to the sudden thunderstorms in London, Massachusetts, USA, was bright and sunny.

After a morning of discussions, Ino and Newt were sitting under the shade of a tree in the courtyard, leisurely enjoying afternoon tea.

"Mr. Scamander, perhaps we can change our perspective. The birth of a phoenix can be seen as a result of two conditions: quality and quantity! For example, the Dumbledore family ancestor created Fawkes through great self-sacrifice! But he was just one person."

Newt turned his head slightly at these words: "Theoretically, that is possible, but I still lean towards the majority. Although singular acts of self-sacrifice are great, it's undeniable that this condition is quite harsh."

"Extreme emotions often don't involve any other factors. Like we are discussing with the phoenix, if one thinks about it, it won't be born."

Ino nodded frequently at Newt's explanation, strongly agreeing with him.

It's like when someone asked a wise man, "After so many years, have you let her go?" And the wise man replied, "Who is she?"

He didn't say he let go, nor that he couldn't let go, just simply forgot.

"Ino, don't be pressured! I'm old, but you're still young and have plenty of opportunities."

Newt comforted him, seeing that the young man in front of him was still a bit impatient.

"I've contacted the L.A.A. publishing house for you. According to our plan, we'll publish a book and a record first to build your reputation. After that, I'll personally talk to Fudge. Performing at the opening of next year's Quidditch World Cup, with the emotions of ten thousand wizards gathered, should be enough to birth a phoenix. If not, then our hypothesis is wrong!"

"Thank you, sir!" Ino sincerely thanked him.

He increasingly felt that Newt was very pure, lacking the cunning and shrewdness of the world, doing things straightforwardly without any emotions or interests.

Perhaps this is also the fundamental reason why magical creatures recognize and rejoice in Newt. Just like magical creatures, if you're good to me, I'll be good to you—it's that simple.

Like the current project on the phoenix, Newt wanted to research it, so he did his best, even though the phoenix might not recognize him in the end. But he still put in all his effort, time, connections, and even a lot of Galleons.

Not to mention the publisher, just getting Fudge to add an event to the Quidditch World Cup was already an unattainable task for many people.

Similarly, Newt seemed to hear the underlying emotion and waved his hand with a smile.

"No need for that! I'm also curious about the birth of a phoenix. This species is so perfect that it shouldn't even be a magical creature. If our research succeeds, the phoenix might be reclassified as a spiritual magical creature like a Patronus. I hope to see that in my lifetime..."

Hearing Newt's lament, Ino suddenly made a decision: "Wait here for a minute."

With that, his figure abruptly disappeared.

Moments later, Ino reappeared, holding a bright blue straight sword, about 3 feet long, with intricate carvings on the blade.

But as soon as the weapon appeared, Newt's eyes widened, and the three Kneazles playing nearby arched their backs, growling lowly.

"A strong curse, filled with hatred!" Newt gave a precise evaluation after just one look.

"Yes! I got this by chance." Ino placed the Dance of the Snowflakes horizontally on the small tea table under the tree.

"I was thinking, if a phoenix is born from extreme emotion, does it matter what kind of emotion it is? Extreme hatred is also an extreme emotion, sometimes even more so than love and sacrifice!"

As Ino explained, Newt's eyes grew brighter.

"We can try! Use your magical flame to scorch it. Don't worry, if it gets damaged, I'll compensate you."

For some reason, seeing Newt's eager expression, Ino's mind flashed to two children standing under a window, one encouraging the other to use a slingshot to hit the opposite window.

Though he thought this way, Ino did not refuse. He had already decided to burn it when he took it out, especially since Newt had invested so much.

"Should I burn it now?" Despite his resolve, he still hesitated before starting.

"Why not? Burn it now, I have many interesting collections that are not inferior to this alchemical weapon."

Seeing Newt's enthusiastic look, Ino said helplessly, "I meant, shouldn't we take notes? If there are any changes, it's best to record them as future references."

"Right! Take notes! Kiki." Newt patted his head and called for his house-elf. A thick notebook instantly appeared on the small tea table.

...

Under the shade of the tree in the courtyard.

The old and the young leaned together, despite the vast age difference, their eyes revealed the same expression—expectation and nervousness.

This was a crucial experiment.

Whether it succeeded or not, as long as the flame showed any change, even a tiny bit, it would prove their hypothesis correct.

Conversely, if there was no change, the subsequent plans wouldn't need to be implemented since the entire theory would be overturned.

"Shall I really burn it?"

"Burn it!"

"Are you ready to take notes?"

"Burn!"

"Incendio!"

As he finished speaking, a warm orange flame rose from the Magic Wand.

Ino held the wand carefully, letting the flame drift toward the weapon on the ground.

"Sizzle! Sizzle!" As the flame approached the weapon, it seemed to hit an invisible barrier, making a harsh, sizzling sound like oil boiling.

The sound made the curious Kneazles not far away flee with their tails tucked.

Similarly, for the two people in close contact, Ino and Newt, it was uncomfortable. It felt like two extremes colliding.

Hope and redemption clashed with extreme hatred and despair.

As time ticked by.

When the clash of extreme emotions reached its peak, Newt quietly drew his wand, the first time he held it in thirty years.

"If things go wrong, you run. Disappear like you did before, and leave this to me!"

Facing Newt's instructions, Ino didn't get distracted but nodded silently.

It seemed that everything followed basic rules. The curse and hatred on the weapon were limited. Under the continuous scorching of the flame, it seemed to reach a critical point.

"Bang!"

The sound of a mirror shattering rang out.

The Dance of the Snowflakes on the ground began to change. The blade first shortened and thinned, melting away like snow in the morning sun.

Similarly, the flames burning it also changed.

Somehow, the orange flames were now laced with faint blue lines, resembling tiny veins.