BSI Chapter 111, Section 110: Like a Dream! A Mystical Illusion!
Chapter 111, Section 110: Like a Dream! A Mystical Illusion!
Chapter 111, Section 110: Like a Dream! A Mystical Illusion!
After a torrential downpour the previous night, the sky appeared as if it had been thoroughly washed clean, displaying an unprecedented clarity and brightness the following morning. The sun slowly rose from the eastern horizon, its golden rays piercing through the thin mist and bathing the earth in a soft and warm glow.
During the rather dull morning flight lessons, Ian could still smell the fresh scent of earth and flowers in the air, a unique fragrance after the rain. Although Mrs. Hodge finally increased the flight altitude a little, Ian, who had already experienced speed and excitement, wasn't particularly enthusiastic.
He watched silently as Aurora earned five points for Slytherin, while he himself dutifully completed the flying skills that Madam Hooch had taught him that day.
As for house points and such, other Ravenclaw wizards are enough. Compared to most people in Slytherin, Ravenclaw wizards do learn very quickly.
"Did you see Rebecca finally fly? I'm so happy for her." Michael's attention was, as always, on the little black girl from Slytherin. Although his studies hadn't been affected, his flying skills were clearly inferior to William's, who came from a family with a long tradition of flying.
"My friend, you're quite suited for Quidditch." Ian had to give William a thumbs up. The green-haired boy even displayed a "traitorous trajectory" movement that made Mrs. Hooch a little scared, as he could make unpredictable and bizarre turns in the air.
Mrs. Hodge exclaimed that flying like this was very dangerous, while William secretly told Ian that this method of flying was extremely effective at avoiding curses and was the main reason why he and his father were able to be born safely.
"I still prefer flying cloaks." Ian had actually mastered the craft of making flying cloaks; the problem that bothered him was that Hogwarts didn't sell any cloaks.
“I have a lot of invisibility cloaks at home. If you need any, I’ll have my mom mail you some.” William immediately stepped forward to help Ian out. Because of his timid nature, he was too shy to talk to Aurora, so he had been trying to curry favor with Ian.
In his words, this was definitely more useful than flattering and currying favor with Aurora. It can only be said that the wisdom of Ravenclaw students is indeed far ahead of many of their peers.
"A lot of invisibility cloaks? I remember you said your family was very poor."
Ian glanced at his roommate with some surprise. He knew that crafting each invisibility cloak required more than one invisibility beast. Invisibility beasts could be found in the Far East, but they were extremely rare, each one very expensive. This was because they could become invisible when threatened, and only skilled wizards who knew how to capture them could see them.
“We have the skill to make invisibility cloaks, but my grandfather doesn’t allow us to make a living with these skills, and my mother agrees that a life of poverty is good for our safety.” William whispered to Ian, somewhat helpless, but this lifestyle was indeed the best for their family.
Whether it's his family background as a traitor in the wizarding world or his mother's background in the Muggle world, neither of them can withstand scrutiny and research.
"If possible, one is enough. I'd like to study its manufacturing process." Ian was extremely curious about the invisibility cloak that was famous throughout the wizarding world. Although it wasn't one of the three holy artifacts passed down through Harry Potter's family, as a monopolized industry, its manufacturing technology was something that was very difficult to access.
"Okay, okay, I'll ask my mom to send me one, and also our family's alchemy book." William's prompt reply was indeed a bit too helpful.
"It would be great if you could become invisible while flying," Michael suggested, making Ian thoughtful.
This involves more complex alchemical compatibility techniques, and like composite magic, it's definitely not a simple addition of one. However, if it can be achieved, it would certainly be a powerful artifact for the sixth generation.
"It has to be invisible only when I want to be invisible, and when I don't want to be invisible, the cloak should ideally glow." Ian still hasn't forgotten his original intention when he wanted to make the flying cloak.
A flight lesson passed quickly.
Because a Quidditch match was scheduled for the morning, the field was cleaned up by Mrs. Hooch after the class, and the young wizards did not choose to return to the castle for lunch.
After all, it was only a little past ten o'clock.
Starting this week, the young wizards will have two classes each morning and afternoon, and the school will also kindly make time for them when there are Quidditch matches.
Everyone is looking forward to today's Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw match. As long as Slytherin is not involved, the outcome of the other Hogwarts houses in this sport is still very suspenseful.
Ian wanted to go to the library.
However, they were warmly invited to stay by several familiar young wizards. Not only William and Michael, but even young wizards like Cho Chang showed great enthusiasm and interest in Quidditch.
After all, it's a nationwide phenomenon in the wizarding world.
Cho Chang was even more enthusiastic than the other young wizards, and she performed exceptionally well in flying lessons, earning Mrs. Hooch an extra point for Ravenclaw in almost every class.
"You will definitely become a Ravenclaw Quidditch player." Mrs. Hodge had a high opinion of Cho Chang, and Ian knew that Mrs. Hodge's judgment would indeed come true in the future.
Qiu Zhang was happy for the entire class period because of Mrs. Huo Qi's praise.
"I also think you can become the Seeker. Remember to treat us to a big feast of dragon meat when you do," Ian said excitedly, taking advantage of Cho Chang's good mood.
He perfectly exemplified the cunning of an underage "prophet".
The young wizards had absolutely no way to defend themselves.
Ian, who had pre-ordered a dragon meat feast, was in a good mood. He was surrounded by a group of chattering little wizards as he arrived at the viewing area.
Aurora, not far away, was also among a group of Slytherin boys. Her expression was just as helpless as Ian's; neither of them seemed particularly interested in Quidditch.
among the crowd.
Ian felt out of place among the excited crowd. Almost the entire student body had arrived at the stadium, with many in the back even holding binoculars. Although Hogwarts had a limited total population of only a few hundred, the stands were still packed.
Ravenclaw mingled with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students, while the maverick Slytherins remained aloof, each keeping to their own small group.
"Hedgehog vs. Ravenclaw! That match between the two teams is sure to be interesting!"
"It was Ravenclaw who beat Hufflepuff."
"I'm only concerned about whether the Gryffindor twins have opened for betting. I've almost lost everything, and now I just hope to break even and turn things around."
The students in the stands were in high spirits. Ian even saw Penelope and some senior wizards holding up banners that said Ravenclaw would win and cheering loudly towards the locker room.
It's hard to imagine that the usually quiet senior could have such a wild side. Hufflepuff wasn't to be outdone; their banner even featured a cheering wolf.
Some young wizards also made their own flags.
"Hiss, why does your flag have Dumbledore's image on it?"
Ian thought the flag William was holding looked like it had been modified from underwear. Of course, it was still much better than the little wizard who simply added an eagle pattern to his sister's underwear and held it in the air, only to be chased and beaten up by his sister all over the field—at least no one except Dumbledore would want to hit him.
"They're here! They're here!"
"Go Cedric! You're our god!"
"Ravenclaw will win!"
As the players from both academies filed out of the locker room, shouts and cheers filled the stadium, and Ian felt somewhat infected by the atmosphere.
Despite having only a few hundred students, they shouted with the spirit of a World Cup champion, and the players stood tall and proud, receiving encouragement from their respective academies like true stars.
If Ian were to name the person on the Hufflepuff team that interests him most, it would be the player walking at the very front of the team, the boy with meticulously styled short brown hair.
His facial features are clear yet soft, with a straight nose and an elegant chin. He is an outstanding student with a strong sense of justice, and can definitely be considered a charming and intelligent star.
Cedric Diggory.
Even in other academies, there were people cheering for him, not only for his humility but also for his strong sense of justice and chivalry. Well, this chivalry is not the same as the spirit of the will-o'-the-wisp. In the original story, Cedric possessed all the qualities a hero should have, but he lacked only the indomitable spirit of a hero.
It's a real shame.
Before you've even left the beginner's village, you're already facing a big boss like Voldemort. It's like asking someone who hasn't even learned to walk to race against Liu Xiang.
"I've boiled all of Old Tom's bones into soup, so I must have accumulated countless merits in the afterlife." Ian's gaze seemed to have made Cedric aware of it as well.
When he looked over, he waved and smiled at Ian as if he were a fan. He probably didn't consider that such behavior might make Ian look like a traitor in Ravenclaw and be abandoned. Ian thought he should probably go back and get a few bones from Old Tom.
"call out!"
Madame Hochschule blew her silver whistle, and more than a dozen flying brooms rose from the ground and soared into the sky. Amidst the loud shouts, the students responsible for providing commentary also began their work.
"The Quaffle landed in Hufflepuff's hands first, Ravenclaw's team was just a fraction of a second slower, which put them on the back foot from the start!"
Ravenclaw launched an attack, but Hufflepuff's players dodged it. A beautiful goal! Hufflepuff are now leading 10-0!
"Let's see, oh my god, the Seeker's Ravenclaw player made a Lansky feint! Hufflepuff's Seeker almost got a medical call!"
The competition was indeed thrilling and exciting.
Ian was referring to the image of two Seekers swooping down towards the ground, then one of them stopping and suddenly changing direction. He bet the Hufflepuff Seeker who was being swayed was no more than twenty centimeters off the grass—this is a sport that can really kill you.
The stadium seemed to have become a battlefield.
Cedric Diggory, who was short-lived and fragile, was almost killed by his classmate in a one-on-one fight before he could finish the job.
"Oh my God!"
Ian saw that the professors in the professors' seats had all stood up, and Professor McGonagall's wand was always in her hand, her extremely serious expression a stark contrast to the screams and shouts of the young wizards.
The match is still ongoing.
However, after glancing at the teachers' bench once, Ian never looked back at the court. He found the cat professor's ever-present wand and ever-changing expressions quite interesting.
not only that.
Another scene was far more exciting than the ongoing game—Quidditch, dressed in simple clothes, was also participating in the game from the teachers' table. However, unlike the other professors who were watching the game attentively and were always on guard against danger, he would occasionally glance at Gilderoy Grindelwald.
Gilderoy Grindelwald seemed oblivious, engrossed in watching the game while eating some kind of pastry. When he sensed Ian's gaze, he gestured to Ian with the half-eaten food in his hand.
Ian looked away. As the saying goes, "the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind," Quirrell's mind was entirely on Gilderoy Grindelwald, clearly unaware of the large, black bat behind him. Snape, easily recognizable in the crowd, frowned, his eyes fixed on Quirrell ahead; his incredibly gloomy face made it no wonder the Saviors mistook him for the villain.
"Uncle probably doesn't know what kind of task Tom, who has no nose, gave Quirrell." Ian took out a piece of paper and began to record this interesting scene.
He practices his drawing skills in his spare time and is now close to level five. This skill also helps him improve his proficiency in alchemy from time to time. After all, drawing runes can be seen as another form of drawing.
This is probably why Ian's painting skills are already quite good, but his style is still not realistic; his attainments in abstract painting are going further and further away.
This is not.
Amidst the noise, Ian drew a picture of one person staring at another, while another stared back at him. Since he didn't intend to share it and only wanted to keep it for himself, Ian even added Voldemort's head to his drawing. He captured the essence of everyone's expressions, but he didn't try to recreate the true figures.
It has the feel of a masterpiece.
But it's still Picasso, a true, masterful Picasso. This was Ian's intention; he wanted to draw figures normally, and with a little practice, he could do it easily. However, he preferred abstract art and wanted to know if, with level ten drawing skills combined with magic, he could create works that truly possessed a kind of spiritual pollution.
"This is the complete Quirrell." Ian looked at Quirrell with satisfaction at the face he had drawn on the back of his head. Meanwhile, the battle on the court was gradually coming to an end.
"Having overcome their initial confusion, Ravenclaw's team began to exert their strength, utilizing near-perfect teamwork and tactical adjustments to widen the score gap to 120-40!"
"Hedgehog only scored a few goals at the very beginning. They were completely caught in Ravenclaw's scheme, and their overwhelming advantage left Hedgehog with no chance to fight back!"
"If nothing unexpected happens—wait, oh my god, something unexpected has happened! The Golden Snitch! Cedric Diggory has once again heroically saved Hufflepuff!"
"He caught the Golden Snitch! That was brilliant! A stunning comeback! He's the savior of Hufflepuff!"
The match ended very suddenly.
A huge cheer erupted on the pitch as countless Hufflepuff students rushed onto the field to celebrate this victory, a comeback after another. The Ravenclaw players, meanwhile, were pounding their chests in frustration, and the young wizards, initially excited, began to groan in despair.
Ian feigned a sigh, but his paintbrush didn't stop. He felt his painting lacked some artistic flair, so he erased the face on the back of Quirrell's head in the drawing.
"The most important thing about a painting is that it is artistic enough." After thinking for a while, Ian moved the face onto Quirrell's butt, and the artistic atmosphere immediately emerged.
far away.
Just as Ian was marveling at his masterpiece with a paintbrush in his mouth, and enjoying the extraordinary characteristics that would awaken after his [Painting] skill reached level five,
Quirrell's attention remained on Gilderoy Grindelwald, but he felt a slight itch in his buttocks and couldn't help but scratch it a little through his pants.
"My master said he was coming to Hogwarts this morning, and then I lost contact with him—sigh, this author seems to really like sweets. Should I use the poison I prepared or not?" Quirrell, who was playing the double agent for the first time, was actually incredibly conflicted at this moment. Anyone could probably see that he was absent-minded.
"Are you alright, Professor Quirrell?"
Snape suddenly placed his hand on Quirrell's shoulder from behind, startling Quirrell so much that he jumped. He quickly turned to look at the black bat behind him.
"Maybe—maybe I didn't sleep well last night."
The Muggle professor, feeling guilty, couldn't help but stutter. This wasn't an act; he was genuinely terrified when he was suddenly startled like this while thinking of Voldemort.
"If you can't sleep at night, I suggest you patrol the hallways more often—there are rats in the school," Snape said in a low voice, watching Quirrell's slightly sweaty face.
He paused for a long time before continuing slowly and deliberately, "I lost quite a few things last night; I don't know which mouse took them without asking."
Snape's gaze made Quirrell very nervous.
"I—I'm not quite sure either—maybe—maybe I can keep an eye out for you." In the dead of winter, Quirrell's forehead was constantly beaded with sweat. He hurriedly tried to cover it up by saying that he had a rare disease. Snape didn't say anything, just gave him a deep look before following the students away from the stadium.
"That's really strange."
Quirrell watched Snape's retreating figure with lingering fear, a hint of worry in his eyes. He was terrified that Snape could deduce what kind of magic he had cast from the few ingredients he had taken. He couldn't understand how this damned Headmaster of Slytherin could detect even the slightest missing ingredient in his office.
Inside the auditorium.
Lunch begins.
The players were reflecting on their performance and reviewing where they had fallen short. However, what puzzled Ian was that none of these players, who were reflecting, or the little wizards who were discussing the matter mentioned anything unreasonable about the Golden Snitch. It could only be said that the inertia of their thinking was terrifying.
"Quidditch is amazing! I definitely want to be a Seeker someday! If it were me, we would have won much sooner. Our Seeker is just too slow!"
"It probably has something to do with the brooms too. We just bought the Seekers brooms not long ago, so we might not have had enough time to break them in." William and Michael both seemed a little unsatisfied.
Ian seized the opportunity of the two men chatting to silently devour all the steaks in front of him. He let out a burp, raised his hand, and a glass of lemonade with five lemons appeared.
This was the work of the house-elves hidden in the shadows. Last night, because they drank a beverage that wasn't meant for them, they had already arranged with the house-elves to provide unlimited free drinks.
"I love house-elves."
They ate and drank their fill.
After lunch, Ian returned to the House of Requirement to adjust the complex potion he was brewing, and poured all the leftover waste from processing materials and his own personal garbage into the Dementor's mouth.
The Dementor's mouth, which seems to connect to an unknown dimension, is really useful, at least when it comes to processing waste and garbage, it's like having an infinitely large processing plant.
"Eat, eat it all!" Ian held down the Dementor that was trying to escape, then pried open its mouth and dumped all the garbage into it. Although the Dementor was struggling, Ian firmly believed that what the book said was true: Dementors have no sense of taste, and his own was just naturally timid.
"Don't spit it out."
Ian watched as the Dementor stuffed both hands into its O-shaped mouth, and gently reminded it. The Dementor immediately and obediently removed its hands. This was what Ian liked most about this Dementor; it was more obedient than a puppy, and would never repeat a mistake after being taught once.
"I—I want—back—back—" The Dementor had very limited use of human language; it stammered for a long time without being able to utter a complete sentence.
"Be good, don't go back to the cage, you stay here and keep an eye on the heat for me."
Ian added some more of the necessary ingredients to the crucible, and after explaining the precautions to the Dementors, he continued to study the alchemy techniques of the House of Requirement.
"Gurgle~ gurgle~ gurgle~"
Several huge crucibles were bubbling.
The Dementor silently tended the fire.
It has no eyes.
But I always feel that my eyes are a little wet.
"What amazing alchemical techniques! Time seems to fly by." Ian didn't finish studying until it was almost time for his afternoon Charms class before he hurriedly ran from the Requirement House to the Charms classroom.
He was already very familiar with the basic courses of the first year, and not only did he know this, but Ravenclaw's headmaster, Felius Flitwick, was also very clear about it.
Throughout the entire class period.
Philius Flitwick would seize every opportunity to ask Ian questions and have Ian use magic to cover them up, thus slacking off while also gaining points for Ravenclaw.
Who says deans don't have their own agendas?
This is clearly a little trick unique to Felius Frivi.
Compared to Professor McGonagall, who was somewhat cautious due to historical reasons, and Snape, who was prone to nitpicking, Felix Flitwick made no secret of his preference for Ian, his Ravenclaw student. After all, compared to students who could turn a classroom into a cloud of smoke with a flick of their wands, Ian was much easier to manage.
He even strongly supported Ian's after-school tutoring program, because the young Ravenclaw wizards made really fast progress as a result, which also reduced his teaching workload in the classroom.
"You will surely become a master of magic, Mr. Prince, for your dedication and brilliance, Ravenclaw gets five points!" Before the end of get out of class, Felius Flitwick once again praised Ian's performance in class with his actions. Perhaps Ravenclaw's current leading House Grades are also inseparable from this Ravenclaw Headmaster.
Most deans of colleges will show favoritism towards some of their own colleges, provided that their own college has promising students worthy of favoritism. This is a common practice among the deans of all four colleges.
"I hope that after you go back, you will continue to practice the Summoning Spell. This magic requires time to accumulate, otherwise it is easy for it to be inconsistent in its effectiveness."
As get out of class ended.
The young wizards filed out.
Ian deliberately stayed at the back of the group, as he had some questions he wanted to ask his headmaster about the Patronus Exorcism technique, which he had been struggling to master.
Perhaps Grindelwald couldn't find the reason, but that doesn't mean the other professors were clueless. The best people to consult, besides the elusive Dumbledore, were the dueling master before them. To be fair, in terms of analyzing the fundamentals of magic, neither Dumbledore nor Grindelwald could compare to Professor Flitwick.
Professor Flitwick is a model of hard work.
Unlike Grindelwald, Dumbledore, and perhaps Ian, who embodied the idea of "I saw it, I learned it, I got it," talent was not as prominent in Professor Flitwick's character.
"Is there anything else, Mr. Prince?" Professor Flitwick finished tidying up his things, climbed down from the podium, and saw Ian standing at the front door the whole time.
He once again praised Ian sincerely, "Your Summoning Charm is truly masterful, but you shouldn't attempt things like 'Dumbledore Summon' again."
Professor Flitwick mentioned that while the young wizards were practicing, Ian, having already completed the tasks he had assigned, was overheard in a corner trying out a whimsical idea.
"Can't the Summoning Curse affect living beings?"
Ian was actually quite bored at the time.
"Most of the time we only use Summoning Charm on inanimate objects. This habit doesn't mean we can't cast the spell on living things, but rather that the magical burden required to cast a spell on a living thing is extremely large." Professor Flitwick patiently explained to Ian something that wasn't in the textbook.
"You already know that the greater the distance, the greater the burden. And since you're going to use it to summon our headmaster, you'll need to possess magic far exceeding that of Headmaster Dumbledore while bearing the burden of the Summoning Charm."
"This is very difficult to achieve."
Professor Flitwick's words were indeed somewhat too euphemistic.
However, Ian was still quite skeptical, as it was indeed unlikely to happen. After all, in his opinion, Dumbledore and Grindelwald's magic had already reached the human limit of level 9.
"Thank you for your explanation, Professor Flitwick—" Ian wasn't dwelling on the advanced knowledge of the Summoning Charm; he was actually more concerned about where his Patronus was. "Actually, what I wanted to ask you for help with wasn't that, but rather about a type of magic I've been studying for a long time but haven't been able to grasp."
Who knows if I can't summon my guardian spirit and will be mistaken for a born dark wizard?
"Huh? What kind of curse?"
Professor Flitwick seemed intrigued.
"Guardian Angel Spell."
Ian's words left Professor Flitwick somewhat stunned.
"What kind of spell are you learning?"
He was completely dumbfounded, even doubting whether he had heard correctly. A first-year wizard asking him about the Patronus Charm was something he could never have imagined in his wildest dreams.
"Guardian Angel Spell."
Ian obediently repeated it once.
Professor Flitwick remained silent.
A moment later.
"Is it the rumors about Dementors in the academy that have made you start to worry about your safety?" Professor Flitwick felt that he had probably guessed why Ian wanted to learn such advanced magic.
"Professor, I'm not actually worried about Dementors. I'm just struggling with the inability to create a physical Patronus." Ian sighed, his expression full of frustration.
"????"
Professor Flitwick thought Ian only had a superficial understanding of the matter, but he never expected—tell me a story about what it means to be unable to give birth to a physical guardian deity!
You're just a freshman!
Well, Professor Flitwick clearly didn't have Snape's mindset. His gaze towards Ian was filled with surprise and uncertainty, and he quickly put down what he was holding and spoke.
"You can cast the Guardian Angel spell now?"
He genuinely felt his head was spinning and he couldn't believe it.
"Protect the Gods!"
Ian pulled out his wand and cast the spell cleanly and efficiently. His syllables were perfect and his gestures were exemplary. Before the silver light even appeared, Professor Flitwick had already gasped.
All I saw was...
In the bright classroom, a dazzling silver-white light emanated from the tip of the little wizard's wand, and countless silver rays of light quickly spread throughout the classroom.
Suddenly, delicate ripples spread through the air, like the shimmering light on a lake at dawn, enveloping the ancient room in a dazzling silver glow.
The light was like the thin mist under the first rays of dawn, both hazy and mysterious. It gently swept over every inch of space, bathing every corner of the classroom in a silvery glow. Desks, chairs, bookshelves, blackboard, and even the tiny dust particles floating in the air seemed to be enveloped in a soft silver light at this moment.
"Professor, look, my magic was successful, but I couldn't condense a physical guardian spirit. An elder told me I lack a soulmate."
Ian felt that brainstorming might be the only way to find the answer to the problem.
"Due to my limited knowledge, I cannot comment on your theories as an elder. However, in my view, your Guardian Charm does seem to be missing something crucial."
"Your spellcasting was flawless, even remarkably brilliant. You simply didn't achieve the expected magical effect—I sensed some anomalies within your magic."
Professor Flitwick stared in disbelief at what was happening before him. In his shock and astonishment, the dean's expression and tone became increasingly amiable.
His heart was trembling with excitement.
God.
Such immense magic!
Is Ravenclaw going to produce a Dumbledore too?
"Abnormal node?"
Just as Ian was about to stop casting the Patronus Charm, Professor Flitwick raised his hand to stop him. He took out his wand to reinforce and seal the entire classroom before responding.
"The guardian spirit of the flesh you mentioned is related to this. Every node in the operation of magic should be connected to the corresponding mystery. This is why a mistake in a single syllable can cause magic to tilt in an unknown direction. Your spellcasting is not wrong, but your magic made some mistakes in responding to you."
"Some people with special bloodlines, or those with inherent bloodline defects, will experience similar situations when casting magic; all their spells may only produce the same effect."
"Explosions, freezing, all sorts of strange occurrences—we wizards still haven't found the cause of this." Professor Flitwick looked up at the increasingly dense silver mist, somewhat curious and somewhat bewildered. "Of course, the error in your Patronus Charm is the most bizarre anomaly I've ever seen."
"In the error response of your magic, I see some node information that only summoning spells possess, but it does not belong to the Guardian Charm or any summoning spell I know."
"Can you still hold on, child?" Professor Flitwick observed the changes around him while keeping a close eye on Ian's expression. The young wizard's magic quickly filled the entire classroom.
The silver light could not spread out.
It filled the classroom more and more intensely, the warm and soft substance making it pitch black. Professor Flitwick had already moved close to Ian.
"What terrifying magic!"
Looking at the young wizard whose face was still rosy, he couldn't help but sigh again, "If we can figure out what this mysterious node information represents, perhaps you can create a brand new magic, a magic that others can cast but that only you can cast."
The diminutive Professor Flitwick's voice was filled with excitement.
"All I really want is my guardian spirit." Ian's magical weakness wasn't severe; he just felt quite helpless. His wand, which was constantly spewing silver light, trembled slightly at this moment. It was as if the magic had changed due to reaching its limit, and countless silver threads began to weave together.
Without Ian's control or involvement whatsoever, these fine threads began to intertwine and weave in an incredible way, like the most exquisite weaver weaving a dream of the universe.
Gradually.
A scene that made Ian's eyes widen slowly took shape amidst their interweaving—a vision of an ancient forest, with towering trees reaching into the clouds, dappled sunlight filtering through the branches, a babbling brook, and the air filled with the fragrance of flowers.
Although everything was the distinctive silver color of the Guardian Charm, the details were clearly visible, as if it truly existed somewhere unknown.
"It just projected a forest? That shouldn't be the case."
Professor Flitwick observed the changes in Silverlight, his brows furrowed as he gripped his beard tightly, his face, which was covered by more hair than skin, displaying a puzzled expression.
"you--.-
Professor Flitwick was about to turn around and ask a question.
however.
He noticed that Ian, who was standing next to him, looked rather pale.
"Can't hold on any longer? Then stop right now!"
Professor Flitwick immediately interrupted Ian's spellcasting, which was exactly what Ian had intended to do. The silver threads that had created the vivid scene began to disintegrate and disappear.
The silvery glow faded.
All that remains is the lingering warmth in the air.
"It shouldn't be like this. You should summon something, not just present a projection—" Professor Flitwick seemed to have his blind spot touched, just like Grindelwald.
"How could this be!"
With a look of surprise and uncertainty, Ian lay on the ground, panting heavily—just as those scenes were about to take shape, his magical burden was suddenly pushed to its limit.
In the scene woven from fine silver threads, every detail is meticulously depicted, from the gently swaying leaves to the dappled sunlight dancing on the stream's surface. These are all things Ian is very familiar with, especially beside the lake, where he can vaguely see a boy teaching a girl swordsmanship.
This scene belongs only to the area Ian visits periodically—the Enchanted Realm. Of course, its appearance isn't the reason Ian's workload has suddenly become so immense.
"Summoning Charm—Summoning Charm—." Ian lay on the ground, sweat dripping from his forehead, not only because his magic was waning, but also because he knew that Professor Flitwick was not wrong.
Are you alright?
Professor Flitwick noticed that Ian hadn't recovered for a long time, so he quickly went over to check on him. "It's all my fault for being too eager to satisfy my curiosity!"
He pounded his head in frustration and guilt.
"It was my own decision to try, so it's not your fault—" Ian was helped to his feet, took the potion Professor Flitwick handed him, and drank a couple of sips, gradually regaining much of his strength. The weakness in his magic would continue for a while, during which time casting spells would easily go out of control.
"I'll help you with this, don't worry, it just takes some time." Professor Flitwick felt he should give this good student some compensation. He had just taken a handcrafted wand pouch from his waist when Ian shook his head and didn't take it.
"Professor, I might be the case you described, with a bloodline defect!" Ian suddenly sighed, his attitude completely opposite to when he was eager to learn the Patronus Charm just now.
"what?"
Professor Flitwick was completely dumbfounded.
"I apologize for disturbing your rest time."
Ian bowed deeply.
He genuinely didn't want Professor Flitwick to delve any further.
After all, as a spellcaster, he knew very well that what had pushed him to his limit of magical power during that dreamlike moment was not the projection of the illusion.
Instead, the surrounding classrooms seemed to be replaced by that scene.