On the final day of Christmas, Heinrich fought with the ferocity of a wild beast. His proficiency in fire magic was evident as he conjured fire bats from his wand, directing them towards John. In response, John, with a composed expression, swiftly transformed the stone pier into two formidable dogs that stood in front of him. Seizing a momentary advantage, he aimed his wand at Heinrich's feet, causing the ground beneath to give way. Heinrich managed to grasp the edge, preventing a fall, but not without injury. A jagged wooden splinter pierced his palm, and blood trickled down, staining his hand.
As Heinrich struggled to his feet, John had already prepared a water orb, launching it at Heinrich with significant force. The spell, a water prison, engulfed Heinrich, replacing the air in his lungs with water. Just as Heinrich was on the brink of unconsciousness, John released the spell, allowing Heinrich to collapse to the ground, drenched and gasping for air. Approaching the fallen duelist, John offered a hand and helped him up, commending, "Your strength has significantly improved."
This was no mere consolation. Heinrich's abilities had indeed seen considerable growth, a testament to the challenging environment and the caliber of his opponent. The fervor in Heinrich's eyes resembled that of a devout believer, and despite his pale, almost delicate appearance, he managed a smile at John.
As the day's training concluded, the two parted ways. John headed towards the Gryffindor common room, where the atmosphere was notably more vibrant with students sharing tales of their holiday adventures. Upon his entrance, the room fell into an unusual silence. Crookshanks, however, seemed to have been anticipating John's return and greeted him by the fireplace. John affectionately stroked the cat before encouraging the students to continue their conversations and left with Crookshanks in tow.
Outside, John released Crookshanks, who promptly scampered off without a backward glance. "It really doesn't show any affection at all," John mused, somewhat amused by the cat's indifference despite the treats he had provided.
At that moment, Basil, John's faithful owl, arrived with a package. Inside was a book bound in dragon skin, an item John had been eagerly awaiting. "Tang Mi really is efficient," John remarked, appreciating the effort taken to procure this ancient tome. The book, an "Ancient Fairy Magic Record" retrieved from Egypt, was a treasure trove of knowledge on fairy magic, a subject John was keen to explore.
Upon examining the book, John noticed an emerald green fluorescent mark on the cover, visible only to him. This mark, a symbol of ancient magic, intrigued him. Touching the mark, John was momentarily flooded with a goblin's memories, introducing him to a peculiar spell known as the "Coin Curse."
This spell, unlike any elemental magic John was familiar with, operated on a unique principle: the value of what one sacrifices directly influences the outcome. Intrigued by this concept, John spent the afternoon experimenting with the spell. After several attempts, he successfully repaired a shattered cup using a Galleon, though he couldn't help but feel the exchange was somewhat uneconomical.
Reflecting on the nature of goblin magic, John realized its cunning essence; even in magic, goblins favored transactions that seemed to conceal hidden costs. With a newfound understanding and a bag of Galleons at his disposal, John contemplated the practical applications of this spell, despite the apparent loss in value. His thoughts then turned to a damaged Quidditch goal, a challenge he had previously set aside due to the limitations of his spellcasting abilities. The Quidditch pitch, once bustling with the sounds of cheering and the swift movements of players, now bore the scars of recent havoc. Among the twin sets of three goalposts that stood like sentinels on either side of the field, the right trio had suffered damage. One post was left standing solitary, a testament to the chaos that had ensued. Before the break of dawn, when the world was still shrouded in the quietude of early morning, John made his way to the scene of destruction. With determination, he approached the damaged goalpost, his hands clutching a few Galleons. Whispering the incantation for the Coin Curse, he watched as the Galleons vanished from his grasp, one by one. As if guided by an unseen hand, the shattered remnants of the goalpost began to knit themselves together. Sawdust danced in the air, swirling around as the structure slowly regained its former glory. Initially, five Galleons seemed to only restore half of the goalpost, prompting John to invest ten more. To his amazement, the goalpost was fully restored, indistinguishable from its untouched counterparts.
"The efficacy of this repair far surpasses that of traditional repair spells," John mused, his eyes scanning the perfectly mended goalpost. A thought flickered through his mind, igniting a spark of curiosity. Could the Coin Curse heal injuries that defied conventional magical treatment? The prospect excited him, though he knew further experimentation was necessary. However, the cost of using the Coin Curse was not to be underestimated. Repairing a single goalpost had depleted fifteen Galleons from his purse. Without the backing of a substantial family fortune, such expenditures would be untenable. Attempts to substitute Galleons with magically conjured gold had failed, reinforcing the principle that value must precede creation.
With a heavy heart and a lighter purse, John returned to his dormitory, his thoughts a whirlwind of possibilities and limitations. He had hoped to use the Coin Curse to mend his injured right hand, but the attempt had been futile, leaving him both financially and physically diminished. "Is the soul beyond repair?" he pondered, his frustration palpable. The failure of the spell, coupled with the depletion of his funds, left him feeling cheated. It seemed there was truth to the tales of goblins' deceitful nature.
As the school term resumed, the Great Hall buzzed with the chatter of students. Among them, John noticed Daphne's gaze fixed upon him, her expression one of concern. Confused, he checked his face for any anomalies, finding none. Daphne's inquiry into his well-being took him by surprise. She had observed a change in his demeanor, particularly his lack of enthusiasm for meals. John brushed off her concerns, attributing it to a temporary loss of appetite. Unbeknownst to him, Daphne resolved to lift his spirits through the universal language of delicious food, unaware of the complexity of his troubles.
In the divination class, John's focus shifted to honing his foresight abilities. With hands placed gently on the crystal ball, he sought clarity amidst the nebulous visions. Professor Trelawney, meanwhile, seemed to regard him with a preconceived notion of excellence. Despite the distractions, John remained diligent in his studies, acutely aware of the heightened security measures around the castle. The disappearance of Sirius Black had cast a shadow over Hogwarts, with Aurors and Dementors scouring the grounds in vain. Rumors circulated about Sirius's fate, but no evidence of his whereabouts surfaced, leaving the mystery unsolved and the Hogwarts community on edge. John often marveled at the ingenuity of the younger generation. On a particularly brisk day, Hagrid had managed to gather a cluster of salamanders for the class. The warmth they exuded made the chilly air bearable. Curiosity piqued, John picked up one of the salamanders, peering into its eyes, searching for a semblance of familiarity. For a moment, he thought he saw a reflection of his own eyes staring back at him. However, upon closer inspection, he realized it was just a trick of the light and gently placed the salamander back among its kin.
As night fell, John found himself in a rather unconventional situation; he had caught a dementor, intending it for his dinner. The cocoon it was wrapped in began to unravel, revealing the curse that had nearly consumed the entire ring, turning it an ominous shade of black. John consumed a potion meant to mend his soul, a remedy he had grown painfully familiar with. The potion's effects were immediate and intense, causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead. Yet, this discomfort was something John had come to expect, almost welcome, in his quest for strength.
In the solitude of his room, John unfurled the Marauder's Map, a tool he had grown accustomed to consulting. The map never ceased to amuse him, especially with the odd sight of multiple Hermiones scurrying about, a glitch he found both perplexing and amusing. His gaze then drifted to Peter Pettigrew's icon, which was restlessly moving on Ron's bed, a sight that raised more questions than answers. Dumbledore's icon paced back and forth in his office, a testament to the headmaster's tireless dedication. Meanwhile, Lupin's icon was a constant presence in his office, hinting at the man's deep involvement in matters unknown.
John's nightly observations had become a routine, a way to stay connected with the pulse of Hogwarts. Each icon's movement told a story, a piece of the larger puzzle he was slowly piecing together. In the quiet of the night, with the map spread before him, John felt a sense of belonging to this magical world, a world that was as complex as it was fascinating.
_________
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https://www.youtube.com/@NovelAudioForge/featured
Direct Link to playlist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Hg-qsW4rM&list=PLKskshYG-OcPTR4-Nw7IWFEBZm07D8pBV&ab_channel=NovelAudioForge