Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 318, Section 317: The Beginning that Shaped History

Dumbledore stood on the shore, sunlight streaming through his long, silvery-white hair, a gentle breeze caressing his face, Fawkes perched quietly on his shoulder. His gaze fell upon the two children before him.

A girl named Xiaoya, and a boy named Odin. When he heard the name "Odin," a fleeting, almost imperceptible realization crossed his eyes.

Nobody knows what Dumbledore is thinking.

No one knows what he actually understood.

of course.

At this moment, Albus Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard of later generations, seemed to have suddenly changed his previous judgment because of what he had figured out—Dumbledore's blue eyes flickered behind his half-moon spectacles, and a thoughtful smile appeared on his lips.

"You want to learn magic?"

He looked down at the boy named Odin, and his voice suddenly became cheerful.

"Really? Can I really learn magic and become a wizard like Brother Ian?" Odin's eyes widened, and an uncontrollable joy appeared on his face.

Hear the words.

Dumbledore nodded, a signature, benevolent yet enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "Yes, I think... there might be a difference, but you might actually become a wizard."

At that moment, his tone was quite intriguing. The little boy Odin's silver-gray eyes lit up instantly, completely forgetting what the old man had said a moment earlier that he had no magic.

Little Sprout eagerly tugged at the hem of Dumbledore's robe.

"What about me? What about me?"

She was naturally curious about the mysterious power Ian had previously displayed, but unlike Odin, she simply wanted to be able to fly directly into the sky like Ian.

“Of course, you can give it a try,” the old man said gently, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “I’ve been a teacher for half a century, and I love eager-to-learn children the most.”

That is indeed the truth.

Few people know this.

At least few people at Hogwarts know that Professor Albus Dumbledore's tenure was actually quite long; it's just that everyone was used to his time as headmaster.

Little Sprout immediately beamed with joy, her eyes sparkling: "What kind of magic is it? Is it like what Brother Ian said, that it allows you to fly and disappear into the earth, and even defeat dragons?"

Odin immediately nodded in agreement: "Yes, yes, Brother Ian said that wizards are the most powerful beings, capable of summoning storms, controlling fire, and even resurrecting the dead!"

have to say.

For the world of wizards.

The two children were also very curious.

"Ian himself may not have realized this, but resurrection, even with the use of dark magic, is not something that every wizard can do."

Dumbledore smiled slightly upon hearing this, and instead of immediately correcting them, he slowly sat down on a smooth rock.

He conjured up two comfortable rattan chairs and a small round table, on which sat a plate of candies that could change shape on their own, and gestured for the two children to sit down as well.

Wow! There's food too!

"Magic! This is magic! I love magic!" The two children immediately sat around the chairs in front of the beach, looking up and waiting for the stranger to begin.

“First,” he said, sitting opposite them and tapping his wand lightly on the table, “can anyone tell me what you consider magic to be?”

Little Sprout bit her finger and thought for a moment: "Is it the power that makes things fly?"

"It's the power to defeat the dragon!" Odin shouted impatiently, waving his wooden stick. "Brother Ian said that the most powerful wizard can summon Ultraman Tiga."

Although he didn't know what Ultraman Tiga was, that didn't stop the little boy from feeling that it was impressive and awe-inspiring, mainly because Ian's tone of voice at the time really touched his heart.

Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes narrowing pleasingly behind his glasses. “Both answers are excellent. Magic can certainly make people do these things, but it’s much more than that.” He took off his glasses and wiped them, revealing the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Magic is an energy that exists around us, as naturally as the wind, sunlight, and moonlight.”

“Magic,” Dumbledore began slowly, his voice as gentle as a spring breeze, “is not the kind of miracle you imagine. It is a way of understanding the world, a language that resonates with nature.”

Dumbledore certainly had a lot of experience in leading little ones who didn't know anything about magic into the magical world, after all, Hogwarts had quite a few students from Muggle families every year.

Especially at the beginning of the century, when there were few literary or film works, the young wizards in the Muggle world did not know much more about magic than people of this era.

Little Sprout blinked: "Language?"

“Yes,” Dumbledore nodded, “just like you speak, but it is woven from thoughts, feelings and will. Behind every spell lies ancient knowledge and power.”

Odin asked curiously, "How can I learn it? Do I have to memorize a lot of words first?"

“Memory is important,” Dumbledore chuckled, “but understanding is even more important. Take the spell Fluorescent Blaze, for example. It means to light up the light. If you just mechanically pronounce the word without actually wanting to see the light, it won’t work.”

Xiaoya frowned and thought for a while: "So, magic is actually turning your thoughts into reality?"

“Very close.” Dumbledore looked at her approvingly. “Magic is a dialogue between the heart and the world. When your heart is firm enough and your desire is clear enough, the world will respond to you.”

“Spells are meant to deepen our desires, and what responds to us is the magic of the wizard.” Dumbledore also knew that the two children did not know what magic was.

talking.

He raised his wand, drawing a glowing circle in the air: "Some people are born with the ability to sense and channel this energy within them—we call them wizards. Others, like you—" His gaze swept across the two children's faces, "may need to find a special way to access it."

In this regard.

Both Xiaoya and Odin only vaguely understood what they were hearing.

"Why can't we be born?" Odin asked, frowning, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the wooden stick.

"Just like some people are born to run fast, and some people are born to sing beautifully."

Dumbledore conjured a dancing paper crane. "The same goes for magical talent. But that doesn't mean you can't learn—you just need to find the right way."

Little Sprout curiously reached out and touched the paper crane. It immediately stopped on her fingertip, its wings fluttering gently. "How beautiful! Can magic only make pretty things?"

“Oh, no.” Dumbledore’s expression suddenly turned serious, and the paper crane vanished in a wisp of smoke. “Magic can create miracles, but it can also bring terrible disasters.” His voice deepened. “A powerful spell can heal a fatal wound, or it can take an innocent life.”

Odin sat up straight: "Just like Brother Ian said... magic is meant to be used to protect others?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly: "Is this how Ian taught you?"

Seeing the boy nod, a relieved smile appeared on his face. "He's right. The highest level of magic isn't power, but how to use it."

"How do I begin learning?" Xiaoya asked eagerly, her eyes sparkling.

The old man conjured two flowers that could change color and handed one to each of the two children: "First, you must learn to perceive. Close your eyes and try to feel the energy within the flowers."

Odin squeezed his eyes shut, his little face scrunched up. Sprout peeked open one eye, saw Dumbledore wink at her, and quickly closed it again. "Not to see with your eyes, but to feel with your heart," Dumbledore gently tapped his chest, "Imagine you are holding a ball of warm sunshine in your hands."

Five minutes later, Odin opened his eyes in frustration: "I can't feel anything!"

“Patience, child.” Dumbledore conjured a small harp that could play on its own. “I received my acceptance letter to magic school when I was eleven, and I didn’t know I was a wizard until then.”

This is clearly a white lie.

after all.

He was born into a wizarding family, the powerful Dumbledore family.

"A magic school?" the two children asked in unison, their eyes sparkling with longing.

“Hogwarts, the best magic school in all of Europe.” The old man’s voice was filled with nostalgia. “The castle has moving staircases, talking portraits, and—”

“A dragon?” Odin interjected.

“Unfortunately, no,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head with a smile. “But we have Thestrals, phoenixes, and hippogriffs.”

He stood up, his wand tracing a graceful arc in the air. Countless points of light emerged from the tip of the wand, forming a miniature Hogwarts Castle on the beach. Flags fluttered in the wind atop the towers, and even little mermaids could be seen leaping from the water in the Black Lake.

"Wow!" The two children exclaimed in amazement as they lay down on the ground to examine the magic model.

“Magic comes in many kinds,” Dumbledore explained, manipulating the castle model to change the seasons. “Transfiguration can turn a teacup into a mouse, Charms can make objects levitate, and Herbalism studies magical plants.”

For each spell he described, he demonstrated a corresponding simple magic trick. The teapot transformed into a hopping rabbit, the pebbles waltzed in the air, and a patch of glowing mushrooms instantly bloomed on the beach.

"What is the most difficult magic?" Odin asked, tilting his head back, his silver-grey eyes reflecting the swirling magical light.

Dumbledore pondered for a moment: "Love."

The two children exchanged a puzzled look.

“Not the kind of love that conjures flowers,” the old man’s gaze deepened, “but a deeper, more ancient magic. It can create miracles and break the most powerful curses.”

His voice gradually lowered, as if he were lost in some kind of memory.

Little Sprout timidly tugged at his sleeve: "Could you teach us to conjure flowers?"

Dumbledore snapped out of his reverie, a warm smile returning to his face. "Of course." He conjured two slender wooden sticks and handed them to the two children. "They aren't real wands, but they'll be enough to practice basic moves."

For the next half hour, the beach echoed with Dumbledore's patient guidance and the excited shouts of the two children. Odin focused intently on imitating every swing of his staff, while Sprout was more concerned with making the stick emit beautiful sparkles.

“Relax your wrists, and keep your movements fluid,” Dumbledore corrected Odin’s stiff movements. “Like you’re stirring a pot of toffee syrup, not fighting goblins.”

Just then, a spark suddenly flew from the tip of Odin's staff. Though fleeting, it was enough to make the boy jump up and shout, "I did it! Did you see that?"

In this regard.

Dumbledore had been keeping a close eye on things.

His eyes became somewhat deep.

but.

A smile still appeared on her face.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore clapped his hands in praise. “You have taken the first step.”

Hear the words.

Odin laughed heartily. Sprout looked at her brother with envy, swinging her stick even harder. Dumbledore knelt down and gently took her little hand in his.

“Don’t rush, everyone has their own rhythm.” He guided the girl through a standard spellcasting gesture. “See, isn’t this more comfortable?”

When the stick of the little sprout also emitted a faint light.

She blushed with joy.

It was an excited flush.

"It seems your will is very strong." Dumbledore's pupils flickered after seeing that Sprout could also cast spells, and his expression was thoughtful as he spoke.

The deeper meaning in his words went unnoticed by the two children who actually possessed no magic. After all, they were quite clueless about what magic was and why they didn't have it.

"I'm definitely a genius!" Odin stood up impatiently. "I'm ready to become a wizard! What should I learn next? Battle magic?"

He seems ambitious.

Just as Dumbledore was about to answer, Fawkes suddenly let out a sharp cry.

The old man looked up and saw a golden-red figure in the distance—another phoenix was flying towards them, with a wingspan of at least ten feet.

It was an enormous phoenix.

Its wings pierced the sky like burning meteors. Its form was familiar yet awe-inspiring; it looked similar to the Ford Focus, but its size was many times larger.

It also has magic.

"A legendary magical creature."

Albus Dumbledore's gaze sharpened slightly.

"Phoenix God!" Little Sprout exclaimed, hiding behind Dumbledore.

"He actually appeared a second time today!"

Odin also opened his eyes wide.

Their voices were filled with awe and surprise.

But Dumbledore's gaze became profound.

From the two children's words, the old professor could easily glean deeper information: this phoenix was likely looking for him, and the last one might have been looking for Ian.

“I’m so close to Ian now.” Dumbledore stood up, his robes fluttering in the sudden gust of wind. He stared at the approaching phoenix, realizing the divine bird was coming for him. Fawkes flapped its wings uneasily on his shoulder, emitting a low cry.

“It seems our lessons will have to be temporarily suspended,” Dumbledore said softly, his gaze never leaving the phoenix in the sky. “But don’t worry, we’ll be back soon.”

The two children gazed up at the sky, their eyes reflecting the burning wings—unaware that at this moment, the great phoenix and the little phoenix were about to meet.

This will be the beginning of something that will change history.

(End of this chapter)