Obstacles in Microstructure Research? Clues to the Existence of Terror?!
Devro raised his hand and asked,
"Professor, do you know about the so-called unnamable existences?"
In truth, Devro didn't expect a concrete answer.
He was more interested in Professor McGonagall's reaction to the question—especially her views on the field of microscopic structure transfiguration.
It appeared that no real research existed in the world on microscopic structures.
The entire wizarding world seemed to be lagging behind in this area.
The most recent advancements were from seven years ago.
For a science like this, such stagnation was puzzling.
Devro suspected the reason, as Professor McGonagall once hinted, was the lack of effective observational methods.
Without proper ways to observe, in-depth exploration was impossible.
And without exploration, it was natural that no one could perceive the indescribable, terrifying existences that might dwell there.
So… was Devro the only wizard currently capable of exploring microscopic structures?
An idea suddenly struck him.
Why not compile a standard microscopic structure reference table that everyone could understand and use?
Then, he could identify the microscopic structure of each item.
Perhaps, with this knowledge, wandless transfiguration could become possible.
To complete transfiguration without a wand—this would be revolutionary.
And also, potentially, a very profitable venture.
Devro didn't have any strong desire for wealth.
But he knew that in the future, he'd be venturing into wizarding secret realms all around the world.
He couldn't afford to be short on money.
After all, wisdom passed down by ancestors must be pursued further.
If he ever achieved something significant in transfiguration academia,
he'd likely be invited to various schools for academic exchange.
He might even become a professor.
If he became a professor, wouldn't he have the perfect opportunity to explore the school freely?
He'd also be able to connect with gifted talents from around the world—
in other words, it'd be very convenient to "load and copy entries!"
Devro had already drafted a plan in his mind.
He needed to ensure both Potions and Transfiguration flourished across multiple platforms.
He needed to find a way forward.
But he had only asked the question casually.
Yet Professor McGonagall's face changed immediately—serious and alert.
She swiftly looked around, as though worried someone might be listening.
Then, she stood and walked over to the door, cautiously opening it just a crack.
After scanning the hallway and confirming no one was there, she gently shut the door and turned back to face Devro.
With a grave expression, she asked,
"Alexander, why are you asking this question?"
Devro was startled by her reaction.
He hadn't expected such a dramatic change in her demeanor.
He chose not to reveal that he had sensed something terrifying in the microscopic world.
Instead, he offered a vague excuse.
"Professor, I'm just curious. I read some things in a newspaper, and it got me wondering."
Devro tried to sound calm.
But upon hearing this, Professor McGonagall's frown deepened.
"Newspaper? Which one?"
Devro's mind went blank.
In truth, he didn't really read newspapers.
Most of his magical knowledge came from bars—listening to wandering wizards tell stories.
He could barely name any wizarding publications at all.
Well, except one…
"The Quibbler! Professor, I saw something in The Quibbler, and that's why I asked."
The name slipped from Devro's lips in a moment of desperation.
At the same time, he silently apologized to Luna Lovegood—whom he hadn't even met yet.
He figured The Daily Prophet would be too official to report on anything about unnamable beings.
But The Quibbler?
That was full of conspiracies and bizarre theories—it was a perfect scapegoat.
Upon hearing the name, Professor McGonagall frowned slightly, but still responded sternly.
"Alexander, that sort of information is completely fabricated. Don't believe what you read in those kinds of tabloids. Focus on your studies. Do you understand?"
Devro nodded repeatedly.
"Alright. Go back now—it's past curfew."
McGonagall opened the door to let him out.
Devro bolted from the room like a gust of wind.
Professor McGonagall watched him leave, and murmured to herself,
"Indescribable… Tindalos?"
—
Devro walked swiftly through the dim corridors, taking several turns in succession.
Only when Professor McGonagall's imposing figure disappeared from sight did he finally relax his shoulders.
His nerves began to settle.
He still wasn't sure why…
But he had chosen not to tell McGonagall about the terrifying sensation he felt in the microscopic world.
Something told him she might forbid further research into it.
Sometimes, academic exploration touched forbidden zones.
And not all zones were suitable for exploration by every wizard.
From her behavior, it was obvious—
Professor McGonagall knew something.
Maybe she wasn't aware of what lurked in the micro world specifically,
but she clearly had some knowledge of unnameable entities.
Devro narrowed his eyes in thought.
Unfortunately, he didn't have any solid leads right now to dig deeper.
Wait—no, he did.
During their exchange, he had stumbled across a clue:
The Quibbler.
McGonagall's reaction to that newspaper had been subtle, but telling.
She didn't dismiss it with mockery—only caution.
Could it be that The Quibbler truly published valuable secrets and forbidden knowledge?
If that was the case, going through its archives might yield some incredible insights.
And even better—Devro could try contacting Xenophilius Lovegood directly.
Yes, Luna's father might know something.
It was a pity Luna wasn't at school at the moment.
Still, Devro had made up his mind:
He would subscribe to The Quibbler first thing tomorrow.
And then, he'd find a way to reach out to Lovegood.
But not tonight.
He had already received special permission to be out late.
He wasn't going to waste it by going back to bed early.
No—this was the perfect chance to explore more of the castle.
Devro's lips curled into a smile.
A spark of exhilaration danced in his eyes.
He turned and dashed into the shadowy corridor ahead,
his footsteps fading behind him—
leaving only the dim, flickering torchlight in his wake.