harleyscars Chapter 236, Section 235: Schemes and Merlin's Memories
Chapter 236, Section 235: Schemes and Merlin's Memories
Chapter 236, Section 235: Schemes and Merlin's Memories
Hogwarts was shrouded in a thin layer of mist in the early morning.
In the dome of the hall, the morning light shines through the stained glass windows, casting shadows on the ancient stone walls, creating a serene atmosphere. It is now the time when the sun rises and all things come back to life.
Dumbledore and Nicolas Lemay stood side by side, their figures clearly outlined by the morning light.
"The matter is settled, Nick." Headmaster Dumbledore stood in the center of the hall, wearing a deep purple robe, his long silver beard fluttering gently in the breeze.
"Yes, Albus, I need to go back to my office and study the rainwater Ian brought back. Maybe I can find some secrets about the disappearance of the gods."
Nicholas Lemaître adjusted his glasses, his face displaying the focused expression typical of a scholar. Facing his old friend, he made no attempt to hide what he wanted to research.
"Um."
Dumbledore nodded slightly, his silver beard swaying gently with his movement. "I also have things I need to do every morning that I haven't finished yet. I need to go back to my office to do my morning lessons."
As he spoke, he glanced down at the exquisite pocket watch on his wrist; the hands on the dial seemed to urge him on. Seeing Nick leave, the old headmaster hurriedly headed towards the stairs.
The staircases of Hogwarts remained as unpredictable as ever, but Dumbledore seemed long since accustomed to their capriciousness. He slowly ascended the spiral staircase to the eighth floor. Along the way, several early-rising young wizards were hurrying to the Great Hall. Upon seeing the Headmaster, they all stopped and greeted Dumbledore warmly.
In the hearts of today's young wizards, Dumbledore is the true idol. Perhaps they don't even have the same respect for Merlin as they do for Dumbledore.
"Good morning, Headmaster Dumbledore!" a bespectacled Hufflepuff boy said timidly, with a look of admiration on his face.
"Good morning, child. Is your first class today Charms? Remember to bring your wand; Professor Flitwick doesn't like it when people forget their tools."
Dumbledore winked at the little boy, whose face immediately flushed with joy, as if he were pleased that Dumbledore remembered their class schedule.
"Yes, yes, Professor! Of course we won't forget!" As he spoke, the little boy and his friends all took out their wands as if to show them to Dumbledore for inspection.
"Very good. It seems you all have good memories, unlike me when I was in school, I always forgot to bring my wand." I don't know if Dumbledore's words were true.
Anyway, the young wizards were all very entertained, and they kept asking about the headmaster's past. After a moment, Dumbledore looked at the backs of the young wizards with a hint of affection in his eyes.
He then continued walking upwards without changing his expression, a gentle smile always on his face, like a kind elder caring about the growth of each student.
However, when he pushed open the door to the principal's office and stepped into the room filled with an ancient magical atmosphere, the smile on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a deep solemnity, as if some heavy burden was weighing on his heart. The walls of the office were covered with portraits of past principals, all of them with their eyes closed in meditation.
"It's almost time."
Dumbledore walked straight to an old cabinet in the corner of the room.
The cabinet's surface was engraved with intricate runes, emanating a faint magical aura. With a gentle wave of his hand, the old headmaster caused the cabinet door to open silently.
Inside was a silver meditation basin, the liquid inside shimmering, and next to it, dozens of small glass bottles were neatly arranged.
Each bottle represents a precious memory.
Dumbledore's gaze lingered on the bottles for a moment, then he slowly drew the Elder Wand, pointed it at his temple, and with a gentle flick, a strangely colored memory slowly emerged from his mind, like a light ribbon, wrapped around the tip of the wand.
The color of this memory was different from the usual silver; it contained traces of gray and blood-like hues, as if it had been tainted by some force.
"Um?"
Dumbledore looked at this memory with some surprise, but still used his wand to bring it to the portraits of the past headmasters and spoke softly to them.
"Gentlemen Headmasters, as before, I entrust this to you for safekeeping." With that, Dumbledore imprinted the memories he had extracted into the portrait.
After you've finished this task...
Dumbledore stared at the portraits of the headmasters, seemingly lost in thought.
"Who's influencing us?" A familiar, slightly hoarse voice suddenly rang out behind him. Dumbledore didn't need to turn around to know who it was—it was Grindelwald.
His old friend, his old rival.
"Gellert, are you done with your business?"
Dumbledore's voice was calm.
"Pretty much, we're on the same starting line again now, why don't we have another competition to see who can go further?" Grindelwald seemed to be issuing a challenge, but in reality he was extending an invitation.
Dumbledore did not respond.
He simply looked up at the portrait that helped him hide his memories.
"This time, it seems I chose to forget," Dumbledore said softly, a hint of confusion in his voice, but he showed no inclination to examine his memories.
"I told you, besides Slytherin, there's another person hiding... someone who might be even more difficult to deal with than Slytherin." Grindelwald raised an eyebrow in surprise.
His tone carried a hint of seriousness.
"But... what kind of person is he?" Dumbledore raised a finger as if to lightly touch the portrait, but withdrew his finger before touching it.
"I trust my own judgment."
He was not controlled by his curiosity.
Instead, he turned to look at Grindelwald.
"It's time to test our previous idea."
Dumbledore's tone carried a hint of barely suppressed emotion; even with his self-control, he could not completely conceal the urgency in his eyes.
……
the other side.
Inside the bedroom of the Ravenclaw lounge.
After Merlin cast his spell, it was as if invisible strings were being plucked in the air, producing a subtle vibration. Ian felt a blur before his eyes, and his vision filled with white threads that Merlin had pulled out of his temples.
All I saw was...
The original reality peeled away like shattered glass, replaced by countless shimmering threads. The surrounding scenery seemed to be kneaded, pulled, twisted, and deformed by an invisible hand.
The silk threads intertwine and entwine, quickly weaving a completely new scene.
"Ancient magic."
Ian stood to the side, intently observing Merlin's spellcasting process. His eyes held both amazement at the magic's intricacy and a thoughtful expression. This wasn't the first time he had encountered this type of memory magic that transported people through their memories; he had even studied and explored it himself.
However, the magic Merlin cast, both in its application of magic and the presentation of its effects, gave him a new understanding of memory magic. Those threads were not merely carriers of memories, but rather extensions of Merlin's emotions, each one carrying his joys and sorrows.
"Is it alright for you to use such magic?" The young wizard looked at Merlin, remembering the restriction that the Wizarding King could not use overly complex magic.
"I'm just useless, not dead," Merlin replied directly. Under his control, the memory scenes began to be fully constructed.
The surrounding silk threads gradually dissipated, replaced by a fairytale-like forest. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The air was filled with the fragrance of grass and wildflowers, and in the distance, a magnificent monastery could be seen, its white walls gleaming in the sunlight.
Ian once again sensed the familiar presence of the gods.
"You can even simulate these things in your memory?" Ian clicked his tongue in amazement. Two thousand years had passed, and Merlin's progress in magic was indeed far greater than it had been in his "youth" state.
"Whether you admit it or not, I am the pinnacle of magic." Merlin regained his confidence, but when he saw the young wizard looking over, his puffed-out chest wasn't as straight anymore.
"Where am I?"
Ian looked around, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. This forest was unlike any he had ever seen before; every tree and every leaf seemed to possess a vibrant life force. He looked down at his feet and saw that the ground was covered with soft grass, which felt like walking on clouds.
In a dreamlike forest.
Tall trees rise from the ground, their trunks so thick that it would take several people to encircle them. Their lush branches and leaves intertwine, blocking out the sky and leaving only dappled sunlight filtering through the gaps onto the ground.
The air was filled with the fresh scent of grass and trees, mixed with a faint floral fragrance. Ian's gaze wandered through the forest, and he soon noticed the figure of a little boy.
"That's me as a child," Merlin explained, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. Young Merlin was seen running and playing happily in the forest, his face beaming with an innocent smile. He stopped, holding a handful of nuts, and carefully offered them to a squirrel.
The little squirrels happily accepted the food, held it in their tiny paws, and ate it with relish, occasionally rubbing their little heads against Merlin's hand to show affection.
"You were so cute when you were little..."
Ian couldn't help but laugh, his tone tinged with a hint of teasing.
Merlin didn't respond, but simply gazed quietly at his younger self, his eyes filled with tenderness and longing. A slight smile played on his lips, as if he were recalling that carefree time.
Just at this time.
One by one, fluffy little rabbits emerged from the forest. Merlin crouched down and actually began to talk to them. The little rabbits pricked up their ears, as if they were listening attentively to Merlin's words.
"What is this? A druid?"
Ian's gaze shifted between Merlin and the surrounding animals, a sense of感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion or reflection) welling up within him. He noticed that Merlin's interaction with the animals wasn't simply about feeding, but a deeper form of communication. The animals seemed to understand his words and even respond to his emotions.
In response to Ian's question, Merlin nodded and said softly, "Yes, I've been able to communicate with animals since I was a child. This ability is indeed a Druid's ability."
have to say.
Merlin is indeed blessed with exceptional advantages.
"You really are a gifted genius." Even the little wizard couldn't help but feel a little envious, as he still remembered the tedious and boring process of learning various languages.
Rao is so.
He still has many languages to learn. Most wizards are like this, having to spend a lot of time learning various languages and magic in order to communicate with other races. But Merlin can communicate with animals naturally, a talent that would make almost any wizard feel both envious and helpless.
It's important to understand that even Slytherins only have Parseltongue, meaning they can only communicate with snakes, while Merlin can hear the voices of all things and communicate with them.
The gap between the two in this respect is exceptionally large.
"Me? You can be considered a talent freak?" Merlin was slightly taken aback, then shook his head helplessly. He seemed to disagree with Ian's words, and looked towards the distance.
at the same time.
The little Merlin, created by the memory magic, also moved closer to that side.
As young Merlin played and interacted with the small animals, he inadvertently looked up at the branches of a large tree. There, a raven stood quietly, its feathers glossy black, like silk in the night, shimmering with a metallic sheen. And its golden eyes were like two dazzling gems.
"Not red?"
Ian was somewhat surprised.
Merlin did not respond.
He simply continued to watch his younger self approach the past.
"You're so beautiful!"
Merlin was drawn to the raven's unique aura and a strong sense of curiosity welled up within him, so he took a piece of bread and tried to approach the raven.
"Hello, little one, would you like something to eat?"
Merlin spoke softly, a hint of anticipation in his voice. He tried to communicate with the raven, using a method that had always worked on small animals.
however.
The raven did not fly down to eat the food as Merlin had expected. It merely glanced contemptuously at the bread in Merlin's hand and spoke in a slightly mocking tone.
"Sorry, I don't eat raw food, and I love to eat [but I don't like cilantro]..." The raven's disdainful voice was somewhat sharp, and even Merlin couldn't understand what it meant.
Merlin couldn't understand it either. However, after a moment of stunned silence, Merlin noticed the raven's unusual behavior. This raven was actually speaking human language!
"You can talk? You speak human language?"
Merlin's face showed a look of astonishment. His mouth was slightly open, as if he couldn't believe his ears. But this astonishment only lasted for a moment.
"Huh? You look down on me?"
Soon, seeing the raven's displeased expression, his face was replaced by surprise, and he even jumped up excitedly, waving his hands and shouting loudly.
"Wow, this is amazing! I've finally encountered some magical creatures!" The little boy's emotions were so direct, but this clearly angered the raven on the branch.
"If you can't speak properly, then shut up! You're the magical creature! Your whole family are magical creatures! Your dad speaks so sweetly, how did he end up with such a thing as you!"
The raven suddenly took flight, its wings flapping in the air with a "whoosh" sound. Its tone was annoyed, as if it had been offended by Merlin's words.
Before Merlin could react, the raven had already swooped down on his head, its sharp beak pecking mercilessly. Merlin let out a scream, covering his head with his hands, trying to escape the raven's attack. However, the raven was incredibly fast, each peck landing precisely on his head, and soon his head was covered with bumps of all sizes.
"Ah! Stop pecking! I'm sorry!"
Little Merlin ran and shouted, his voice trembling with tears. The raven, however, relentlessly pursued him, remaining silent and only pecking wildly.
Ian watched this scene, his lips twitching involuntarily. He recalled how, after successfully transforming into an Animagus, he had pecked at Merlin in his raven form.
"Coincidence, it's all just a coincidence..."
Ian's explanation, of course, did not convince Merlin.
"This is the first time I've met you, and it's also the most relaxed I've ever felt since I met you." Merlin's tone carried a hint of emotion, yet also seemed to convey a sense of relief after experiencing many hardships.
He seemed absolutely certain that Ian was this raven.
"And then what? What happened next?"
Ian couldn't help but ask, his tone tinged with curiosity. Upon hearing this, a hint of distress flashed across Merlin's face, and with a wave of his hand, the scene changed once again.
"Quick! Use magic to open this can for me! I just had my mouth treated today!"
"Alchemy is simple. You're Merlin, you should be focusing on the advanced aspects. You already know what alchemy is, so hurry up and make me a hundred copies of this Deathly Hallows, no, ten thousand copies!"
"That's it? That's it? You dare call yourself Merlin? Open your spellbook! Didn't you see it says 'Wizards are gods'? What? No? Let me dip my lip in some ink... Now that sentence is on your spellbook. If you can't learn the spell 'Starfall' today, you can forget about calling yourself Merlin!"
"You might as well rename it Merlin Luncheon Meat! You can't handle the name Merlin!"
The scene is not solidified.
The raven's call had already begun.
This shows how deep the shadow the raven cast on Merlin's heart was.
(End of this chapter)