This was a completely unfamiliar landscape; he was sweating not from physical exertion but because the place he and Helena Ravenclaw had arrived at filled him with a sense of unease and heat.
Magma flowed like molten rivers, and volcanoes loomed like jagged peaks in the distance. Such an environment was bound to be sweltering; he and the spirits had entirely different sensitivities to temperature.
"Wizards are gods, and it can be understood this way..." Helena Ravenclaw did not feel the heat; she was merely perplexed by Ian's response and explanation.
Throughout history, the phrase "wizards are gods" has always been proclaimed with great fervor.
However.
Any sensible wizard would recognize that it is merely a metaphor, a rhetorical flourish, a boast about the wonders of magic. No wizard would truly believe that wizards are gods.
Everyone simply elevates their own status a bit while marveling at the mysteries of magic. This has been the case for centuries, so how could someone who actually believes it suddenly appear!?
Oh, is it a ten-year-old wizard? That makes sense... but reasonable or not, how could you actually accomplish what only gods are said to do after believing it to be true!?
Is there any logic in that?
Magic is indeed extraordinary! But it certainly can't be 'that' extraordinary!
"I know this is unusual, but wizards have developed these abilities over many years, and you should understand various magical bloodlines. The Dumbledore family, for instance, can even summon a Phoenix in their time of need."
Ian felt increasingly uncomfortable under Helena Ravenclaw's scrutinizing gaze, and his hurried explanations did not convince her; instead, they made her regard him with an even stranger expression.
"This is not about bloodlines, child."
Helena Ravenclaw may not be as erudite or clever as her mother, but she was certainly well-informed, hailing from an era when magical research was even more frenzied than it is now.
"It is a power that wizards should not possess... This means you are undoubtedly favored by the gods of this realm." Helena Ravenclaw gave Ian a slight bow as she spoke.
This was the most reasonable explanation she could conjure.
"Perhaps." Ian nodded without refuting; he had indeed harbored doubts about this for some time.
How could he travel between the two realms? The mother of the lady before him had once suggested that he had settled here, perhaps because during the initial disorientation of his crossing, he had been trapped in the Twilight Zone without reincarnating.
The years had blurred, but his time here must not have been short.
It was not impossible that he had become a privileged "civil servant"; when reincarnating, he could have retained his memories and become a wizard, perhaps having taken a shortcut with the "higher powers."
In the world of Harry Potter, there were indeed gods, and the house of the Hogwarts Divination professor had once served the Sun god.
Of course.
This could also be the boastings of ancient peoples. But since the Twilight Zone and the deeper underworld have always existed, such places must have overseers to function properly.
"I think now is not the time for us to ponder such questions. To be honest, I am a bit unsure how to take you to find your mother; this place is unlike anywhere I have been before." Ian reached for his wand, only to realize he hadn't brought it with him.
He could only raise his hand to repeatedly wipe the sweat from his brow.
It was unbearably hot.
The towering volcanoes resembled the wrathful eyes of ancient deities, occasionally spewing dark red and golden flames. The magma crawled sluggishly at the edge of the crater, as if the heart of Hell itself were beating restlessly.
Every eruption of magma was accompanied by a deafening roar and a searing heat wave, baking the space like a furnace.
"Places you've been before? Do you come here often?" Helena Ravenclaw did not seem concerned about being lost; instead, she seized upon a particularly alarming detail in Ian's words.
"Since I was a child, I have been compelled to come here periodically; it is not something I can control. However, I have learned to embrace this peculiarity." Ian looked helplessly at the distant volcanoes; he had no reason to hide anything from a ghost who had already stepped into the realm of the deceased.
"To be able to make such a crossing without paying any price..." Helena Ravenclaw's eyes flickered, and her gaze toward Ian carried a hint of uncertainty.
This was entirely different from what she understood about divine favor. It should be noted that ritual magic and sacrificial magic were not originally the practices of ordinary wizards.
"This is the price, my lady!" Ian gestured to the large puddle of sweat on his hands. Fortunately, his enchanted money pouch had come through, allowing him to pull out a bag of salt and a bottle of lemonade to gulp down.
After several expansion charms, Ian's money pouch had become a bottomless repository.
His goal this term was to make it capable of holding all of Hogwarts.
"The salt in your body isn't something you can replenish like this..." Helena Ravenclaw couldn't help but remind him, taking the salt and lemonade to prepare a bottle of saline solution for him.
"The ratio should be correct."
She handed the saline solution to Ian.
Ian immediately performed his signature move of downing it in one go.
"Actually, sterile saline injected into the body would be more effective, but I haven't dehydrated to that dangerous extent yet." Ian was simply too lazy to prepare it himself.
"Of course, if I stay in this infernal place much longer, I think I won't be far from collapsing from heatstroke." Ian attempts to cast a freezing charm on himself to cool down.
However, after struggling for a long time, he still couldn't produce a complete spell with his hands. Wandless magic was the most challenging feat for any wizard accustomed to wand guidance.
"What are you doing?" Helena Ravenclaw watched as Ian raised both hands, bubbles occasionally forming on one hand and ice shards on the other, while the young wizard's face was etched with frustration.
"I was thinking that when I get back, maybe I should cut off all ten of my fingers, turn them into wands, and then reattach them." Ian ultimately gave up with a helpless sigh.
"..."
Helena Ravenclaw had no idea how to respond to Ian's words; she only felt that the young wizard before her was definitely underachieving in her current house.
This little fellow should go to Knockturn Alley for further study.
Tom Riddle turned his soul into a Horcrux, while Ian Prince wanted to turn all his fingers into wands. Indeed, the more handsome male wizards often seemed to be the harshest on themselves. Helena Ravenclaw, who once fancied herself a romantic, now felt a twinge of fear toward handsome male wizards.
"We need to hurry and leave this place that even a Kneazle wouldn't linger in. If we can find a black sea, perhaps I can find a way back to the island where I first met your mother." Ian pulled out a compass, which was utterly useless; the needle spun like a berserk Snitch.
Not only could it not find south, but it was even difficult to make the needle stop spinning.
(To Be Continued…)
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