Support me and be 20 chapters ahead of webnovel:
patreon.com/Draco_
******
The already crumbling ruins collapsed completely after Harry had his way with them. The black-silver vortex gradually faded as Harry retreated, disappearing into nothingness. He returned to the side of the Thestral and gently stroked its sleek, dark head.
"So that's the power of the Awakened? Like my mother, the power of the First Awakened?"
"Maybe Mom wasn't that great at fighting? If she had the same combat prowess as that senior..."
"Voldemort?"
"Heh~"
A strange expression appeared on Harry's face.
"If Voldemort had barged in during the middle of the night, Mom would've probably said: 'Oh, little Voldy, sneaking in without a word at this hour? Pick your death method.'"
Just thinking of the scene he'd witnessed in that black-and-white world—the image of someone harnessing the power of the heavens—made Harry's heart surge with longing.
He had always been someone who pursued power. Even though he was just a transmigrant with ties and family in this world, and couldn't act as recklessly as the Fourth Calamity, he was still an outsider. He maintained a subtle distance from this world. If one day, Harry were to lose everything, with nothing left to hold him back, his darker nature as a "foreigner" might come to the surface.
Ordinary people would feel cold and terrified after witnessing such ruthless slaughter, but Harry felt nothing but excitement, his blood boiling. If he could master that kind of power, wouldn't it be like having a new toy to play with?
His attitude towards dark magic wasn't like Grindelwald's. Whether it was dark magic, white magic, or anything else, as long as it was interesting enough, Harry was more than willing to give it a try.
"Avada Kedavra!"
In the black-and-white world earlier, Harry had heard many seniors reciting the Killing Curse. The most crucial aspects of casting a spell were the rhythm and the pauses. If you didn't grasp that feeling when trying a new spell, even reciting the incantation might not be enough to make it work.
A streak of ghastly green light shot from his wand. The sudden drain of magic made Harry feel a bit uncomfortable. Compared to the seniors he had seen in the black-and-white world, Harry's magical power was far too weak.
The Thestral, startled by the green light, jumped to its feet. When the beam hit a crumbling stone, it rolled its eyes at Harry.
"Tch~ What's the big deal with the Killing Curse? It's slow, drains magic like crazy, and I have no idea why that idiot Voldemort likes it so much. If the target's more than five meters away, I could just wiggle my hips to dodge it. The seniors' version, with its homing lock-on feature, is way more useful. Using this against anyone is just dumb."
After actually using the Killing Curse, Harry realized that despite its power, it had many flaws.
If certain "rules" still held true, then Moody's words from the Goblet of Fire could be a good reference: if a wizard didn't have enough magic, even if the Killing Curse hit someone, it would only give them a nosebleed at best.
Each spell had a different minimum magic requirement, and if you didn't meet that, the spell's effects would be drastically reduced. Expecting Harry to kill anyone with the Killing Curse right now was ridiculous—it would be more effective to cast a Petrificus Totalus followed by a Blasting Curse.
"But speaking of those seniors…"
Harry sighed and spoke wistfully.
"Hufflepuff was that hardcore? Mowing down enemies in the Forbidden Forest before even graduating at fifteen or sixteen? No wonder the forest had fewer poachers by the time Hagrid took over."
"Starting a fight with a Killing Curse, wiping out hundreds of people in one go... The fact that the wizards of England weren't wiped out by him is practically a miracle."
"But that's so Hufflepuff. After causing such chaos, he didn't even become the first Dark Lord. He slaughtered all the poachers in the Forbidden Forest, and yet, what he did wasn't recorded anywhere. The way he embodied Hufflepuff's humility and low profile was just perfect."
"Too bad I don't know that senior's name. Otherwise, I'd at least offer some incense for him, wish him full martial prowess or something. I wonder if the wizarding world even burns joss paper? If I folded some Galleon-shaped offerings, do you think the underworld would accept that currency?"
While muttering nonsense to the Thestral, Harry climbed onto its back. There had been too much to take in from the black-and-white world he had just witnessed: an unknown Hufflepuff senior from some forgotten era, the technique to turn the Killing Curse into a homing, area-of-effect attack, and the powerful, mysterious ancient magic. All of it would take time to process.
The Thestral rose into the air, soaring above the treetops. It spread its wings gently, gliding silently through the sky.
"Oh, so you know you're a winged horse, huh?"
Harry tapped the Thestral's head in mock irritation. "You couldn't fly when you brought me here, but now you remember to fly when taking me back?"
The Thestral turned its head slightly, giving Harry a glance that seemed to say, I wanted to take a stroll on the way in. Too lazy to fly.
What had taken hours on foot was reduced to less than three minutes as the Thestral casually flew back, leaving Hedwig far behind. Although owls possess weak magic, they couldn't compare to true magical creatures. After dropping Harry off at the entrance to the centaur camp, he waited for a bit before finally seeing a breathless Hedwig flapping furiously to catch up.
"I'll bring you along next time for sure. Tired you out, didn't I, Hedwig?"
Harry scooped up Hedwig in his arms, and if her tongue had been long enough, she'd probably be panting by now. At his words, she let out a couple of grumpy hoots and turned her head away, refusing to even look at him.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! How about I roast you a mouse later? Sound good?"
"Don't ignore me! Or I could order some magical mice—no more of those ordinary ones with no nutrition. Only the best for you. You're my one and only owl, after all!"
After much coaxing, Hedwig finally turned her head slightly to look at him, before fluttering out of his arms and proudly perching on his shoulder.
By now, dusk was settling in, and Bane had already prepared a bonfire feast. Hagrid was grinning broadly, hoisting a massive oak barrel of ale taller than a person. He was eager to make his rounds through the centaur camp, but now the guest of honor had arrived.
"Harry! Over here, over here!"
Hagrid waved a hand the size of a dustbin lid at Harry. "If you'd been any later, I was going to come looking for you in the forest!"
"You alright?" He gave Harry a once-over. His clothes were neat, and his hair wasn't even mussed.
"I just went with the Thestral to visit its home, broaden my horizons a bit."
"Those little ones are real friendly to people. You should go visit and feed them whenever you have time."
"No more chit-chat, come on, let's raise a glass to our little hunter!"
Hagrid boomed, lifting the entire ale barrel as if it were a cup. The lively centaur camp reached a new peak of celebration. Around the orange-red bonfire, there was wine, roasted meat, and other centaur delicacies, their names unknown but their taste delightful. Together, they bid farewell to the setting sun.
Seizing the opportunity, Harry began asking the centaurs about the old stories of the Forbidden Forest. If certain people hadn't been recorded in the pages of history, perhaps the long-time residents of the forest might know something.
(End of Chapter)