Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 316, Section 315: Death and the Old Man!

Well known.

Ian enters a dreamlike state every seven days while he is asleep. He doesn't yet know why he has this ability, but over the years he has developed the habit of keeping track of the time.

Seven is a magical number.

At least in the world of Harry Potter, the number seven is considered magical.

It has special significance.

Many things in the Harry Potter world are inextricably linked to this number; it may be a magical number imprinted in the cosmic rules of the Harry Potter universe. Just as 42 represents the cosmological constant in some worlds, the number 7 is likely the magical constant in the Harry Potter world.

of course.

Regardless of what the truth is.

It's a fact that Ian enters the illusionary realm every seven days. He only needs to remember which day of the week he enters, and over the years he has almost never made a mistake.

This time is clearly an exception.

It's mainly because it's nighttime in the Harry Potter world, which is like daytime here, which is quite confusing. Also, there are so many things happening here that Ian doesn't have time to be distracted.

now.

In a sudden and unexpected way.

Ian entered his dreamlike state in a way he had never experienced before—he had tried staying up all night before, but he had never experienced such a "forced sleep" as he had today.

Ian didn't know if this was related to the female Titan Lyle, or perhaps it was related to the time period he was in, but in any case, the way he entered the Mysterious Night this time was too abnormal.

In fact.

Not only was the method of entry extremely unusual, but even the scene upon entering this world was different from before. You see, while Ian had previously appeared in different places after entering the illusionary realm for various reasons, that was merely a change in geographical location.

nowadays.

This is like changing the very filter through which the world is viewed.

What's going on here?

Ian opened his eyes.

look around.

He wasn't flustered, but he was very curious, wondering what kind of dream entry mechanism had been triggered again, as everything around him seemed to be rendered in black and white.

Yes.

It wasn't the color Ian usually saw in the Dreamlike Realm. Most of the time, the colors in the Dreamlike Realm weren't much different from the colors in the human world. Now, the surrounding filter, with its incredibly heavy feel, made it seem as if Ian had entered a Dreamlike Realm from ancient times.

The black and white freeze-frame tone seems to symbolize that this is an unchangeable past.

All around was deathly silent. There was no wind, no birdsong, not even the sound of a heartbeat. The world seemed to have been stripped of all signs of life, leaving only pure black and white.

Like an old photograph whose colors have faded.

Solidified and cold.

"A mysterious, ancient world? A world before it became a transit point for souls?" Ian realized that he might be in a hidden past.

The truth buried in history.

About the dreamlike illusion.

Also about wizards.

This world was nothing like the vibrant, dreamlike realm Ian remembered. The sky was leaden, cloudless, and sunless, just a uniform, suffocating gray. The ground was composed of countless tiny black particles, like crushed charcoal, which made a crisp, shattering sound when stepped on.

"What kind of place is this?"

His voice echoed eerily in the empty world. Looking down, he saw that even his own palms had lost their color, leaving only black and white.

The wand was still in his hand.

However, the colors have already blended into the surroundings.

“I need to figure out why I came here.” Ian slowly stood up. The ground beneath his feet was as hard as iron, and the gravel made a faint grinding sound as he stepped on it.

That was the only sound that proved time was passing. Ian's breathing seemed out of place in this world—each exhale was like an intrusion into the silence.

All around were endless rocky wastelands.

There was no vegetation, no animals, not even a speck of dust. Only on the distant horizon, cracks stretched across the earth, as if the world had been torn apart by some immense force.

Ian began to explore.

The black gravel groaned softly underfoot.

Every step leaves a footprint.

But the footprints vanished without a trace after a few seconds. On the distant horizon, several sharp black stone pillars pierced the sky, like the ruins of some ancient civilization.

"So, the reason why the Mystic Realm could become what it is today is because it needed specific people to develop it?" Ian had also entered the Mystic Realm in past timelines. When he returned to the era of Pompeii, he was also able to enter the Mystic Realm where time had not progressed forward.

At that time.

Time seemed to be calculated separately in the illusionary realm; regardless of Ian's current point in time, entering the illusionary realm wouldn't affect him in any way. The current situation was clearly different. Ian didn't know he hadn't seen any life, and he even suspected that none of the people he knew were there.

I did not enter a specific area.

Instead, he arrived at a place before the creation of the Mystic Realm, a place where this space belonging to the Mystic Realm existed—at least, before the Mystic Realm that Ian was familiar with had been created.

Ian kept walking.

Continuing to explore.

I don't know how long I walked.

The surrounding scenery remained unchanged.

It was as if the entire world was now this desolate landscape. Not just the sky and clouds, there wasn't even wind or sound; even Ian felt as if he were frozen in this gray cage. He began to wonder if this was a prank by the woman, Tyrande Claire, but his intuition told him that he hadn't been mentally attacked.

This is a primordial land that is much older than the Mystic Realm.

of course.

Ian didn't see any souls, but he could still sense traces of their existence: a fallen stone tablet with indistinct writing on it; a winding path, though eroded by time, still showing signs of human footsteps; and metal fragments half-buried in the rock strata.

It looks like the wreckage of some kind of weapon.

Ian felt a strange sense of familiarity.

"Have I been here before?"

He muttered to himself, his tone filled with confusion.

Just as Ian was racking his brains, still unable to figure it out, a blurry outline appeared in the distance. It was a mountain—no, a volcano. The dark, cone-shaped mountain rose abruptly from the gray horizon. Pale plumes of smoke billowed from its summit, but there was not a single spark of fire.

"Apocalypse Volcano!"

Ian finally understood what his inexplicable sense of familiarity was: he had appeared near this volcano when he took Ravenclaw's daughter into the Enchanted Realm. It was only after Lady Ravenclaw appeared that Ian was able to return the ghostly woman to her.

The reason Ian didn't recognize it at first was that the difference between this place and the future was too great, not only in terms of color tone, but also in the difference of the surrounding scenery.

Anyone who has studied history knows this.

Five hundred years is enough for a place to undergo dramatic changes.

Not to mention that it's unknown how many years it will be before the illusionary realm Ian knows is created. This is enough to make it impossible for anyone who comes here to tell that the two seemingly disparate places have any similarities—that is, this volcano is so special, as if it hasn't changed much over countless years.

This allowed Ian to recognize where he was, and also confirmed that he was indeed in a dreamlike illusion, and not in some other unusual place.

"The Doomsday Volcano, the Reaper's Furnace".

Ian murmured softly. The massive black volcano stood silently, without eruption or tremor, only lava slowly flowing from its fissures; it too was now an unchangeable black.

It doesn't look like a naturally formed mountain.

It's more like a man-made furnace.

Ian, combining the stories Ms. Ravenclaw had told him before, concluded that there was nothing wrong with the conclusion that this volcano was the furnace of death, and that the Three Deadly Artifacts were indeed forged here.

"The ravens seized this place."

Ian didn't know what was hidden inside the volcano, but he knew that a part of the past must be buried there—a history that could not be changed or escaped.

If I really were a raven.

There must be a reason why they would want to seize this place.

And he is now.

Their presence here is unlikely to be merely a coincidence.

"I need to go and take a look."

Ian stepped onto the familiar path leading to the crater. The stones beneath his feet loosened and rolled into the bottomless crevice, but there was no echo.

When he finally reached the edge of the crater, the sight before him made him stop in his tracks.

In the firelight, a tall figure bent over a furnace, his hands gripping an unfinished weapon. Sparks flew, and the deep, rhythmic hammering sound seemed to beat the pulse of the world. The man didn't look up, nor did he notice Ian's presence. He simply focused intently on forging, his expression solemn, his movements precise.

Ian held his breath and crept a few steps closer, trying to see what the person was doing. However, the moment he took his next step, the plume of smoke from the crater churned violently.

The tall figure turned around.

It was a figure draped in a tattered cloak. Beneath the cloak was no body, only endless darkness and the occasional flash of crimson light, as if it were the only color adorning this world.

"grim Reaper."

Ian’s throat tightened.

He saw the figure forging a sickle.

The Grim Reaper's scythe.

now.

The figure turned around.

There was a feeling that his gaze was trying to penetrate him.

"Raven~"

Death spoke softly.

His tone was devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

It was exceptionally clear in this deathly silent world.

……

Just as Ian was tormented by the silence and the sudden encounter in the hazy dream world.

at the same time.

Inside the stone house in the real world, however, there was only roaring and chaos.

"Clap clap clap clap~ Clap clap clap clap~"

Claire sat cross-legged on the enormous beanbag chair, her fingers flying across the game console screen. With each move she made, the entire island roared with tremendous force.

The earthquake trembled, mountains rose, and rivers changed course.

She is still focused on transforming her island.

“Hmm…this forest is too monotonous.” She tilted her head, and with a light stroke of her fingertip, countless glowing trees sprang up from the ground, their branches and leaves shimmering with starlight-like fluorescence.

"Give me some more new Pokémon and Digimon." She grinned, casually conjuring up a few rabbits with butterfly wings, which hopped and disappeared into the depths of the forest.

"This must be my original work."

Claire seemed rather smug.

A group of never-before-seen creatures slowly took shape.

They have the body of a deer, but the tail of a snake and the wings of an eagle.

There was also a giant, completely transparent tortoise with starlight flowing inside, slowly crawling towards the shoreline. These new species did not evolve naturally, but were created by Claire herself.

She wasn't building an ecosystem; she was just doing whatever she wanted. On the eastern side of the island, the once calm sea suddenly churned, and a brand-new volcano rose from the seabed. Before the lava had even cooled, Claire had already enthusiastically planted a giant flame tree in the crater, its crown burning with an inextinguishable golden flame.

All plans.

Actually, none of these are scientifically sound.

It completely contradicts the theory of evolution and any other theory of biological development.

But it is incredibly magical.

As she tirelessly modified the island, the air outside was filled with the smells of earth, seawater, and metal, as well as a faint scent of magical embers.

“Perfect.” A satisfied smile played on her lips. However, just as she was about to continue modifying the western side of the island, she suddenly froze. A flicker of surprise crossed her previously focused gaze, followed by deep seriousness. Her eyes were glowing, clearly indicating that her prophetic abilities had been activated.

"This time, it really is a time traveler."

Her voice was soft, yet carried a rare seriousness.

She looked out the window, and deep in her pupils, she saw not only the island before her, but also a more distant scene—a picture of Earth.

Specifically.

It must be a scene from an island she created on Earth. Within the massive storm that isolated the island, an old man in a dark blue robe is passing through it.

In fact.

The figure had indeed crossed the storm and arrived at the completely calm core area of ​​the storm.

Claire put down the game console, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"interesting."

She stood up, and the stone house door opened automatically, the outside world still changing under her will. Volcanoes erupted, forests spread, and new creatures were born in her imagination.

But her attention was focused on that moment.

They were completely captivated by the unexpected guest.

The female Titan gazes at Earth.

His gaze easily pierced through all obstacles, revealing the scene on Earth.

Above the sea.

The old man, seemingly sensing the gaze upon him as he pierced through the storm, looked up in bewilderment but found nothing amiss. He then hovered in mid-air again, turning his gaze toward the island.

“Ian has been here before.”

The old man spoke in a deep voice.

The tone was firm.

He was supposed to be trapped in the trials of the Bronze Gate—Albus Dumbledore.

(End of this chapter)