Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 325, Section 324: Back to Reality, The Mysterious Town
In a world of black and white.

All was silent. After the raven left, Death was sealed away, and the Dementors slowly retreated. The entire crater seemed to be left with only Ian and the sealed Death.

"Gulu~Gulu~Gulu~"

The lava from the volcano is bubbling.

These bubbles initially expanded slowly, their surfaces glowing with an eerie orange-red light. As the internal pressure increased, they began to tremble violently, their edges twisting and stretching like molten glass. Suddenly, with a "pop," they burst open, the tops of the bubbles exploding, and scalding gas, carrying tiny fragments of volcanic glass, sprayed out.

The remaining lava quickly filled the gaps like melted syrup, only to be pushed up by new bubbles in the blink of an eye—clearly because the raven had added too much "fuel" when it forged the baby.

Even though Raven has left with his creation, the raging volcano has not yet subsided. Ian originally wanted to see if anything was left inside, and whether he could push the crystal that sealed Death into the volcano as well—he had previously verified that he seemed to be able to interfere with history.

Therefore.

Ian approached.

Never thought about it.

Perhaps Death had seen through his thoughts, or perhaps for some other reason, Death's immobile body could still turn his scarlet eyes, hidden beneath his black hood.

that moment.

Ian stood on the edge of the crater, feeling an unprecedented sense of oppression.

Death's gaze pierced through the crystal that sealed him.

His crimson pupils suddenly locked onto Ian.

In that instant, a chill pierced his very bones like a dagger—He saw him.

It wasn't an ordinary gaze, but a soul-piercing stare. It seemed to want to extract his existence from the river of time, to re-examine, redefine, and archive it.

"Holy crap, that scared me."

Ian's heart skipped a beat.

My whole body stiffened.

I felt like I'd been caught stealing, and at the same time, I felt the pressure of death.

This is impossible.

From the moment he stepped into this black and white world, Death never paid him any attention. Whether forging the Deathly Hallows or battling the ravens, His gaze remained fixed only on those who directly confronted Him.

Based on what happened before.

Ian knew he had always been an observer, an existence detached from fate. Even though he had intervened in history and influenced the past, he had never truly been "seen."

But now, those crimson eyes were fixed on him. And at the most inopportune moment. Could it be that Death, too, possessed the ability to glimpse the future from the past?

Wouldn't that invite death's retribution?
Ian's fingertips trembled slightly as he instinctively gripped his staff. Countless thoughts flashed through his mind—escape? Fight? Or… become a raven and peck out His eyes?

The crazy idea had barely formed in his head when Death spoke first.

"There's another game."

The deep, hoarse voice was like the scraping of rusty iron—deep, cold, yet carrying an irresistible authority. It was neither a threat nor a warning, but more like a calm summary after a game of chess had ended.

This is not the end.

The moment the words left his mouth, the whole world began to collapse.

A crack appeared in space.

It wasn't a simple shattering, but a tearing apart of reality itself. The gray sky cracked with countless fine lines, peeling away piece by piece like a shattered mirror. The black and white volcano collapsed from its top, the dark lava solidifying into sharp crystals, only to turn into dust as it fell.

Even Death itself is like a pencil drawing being erased, its outline gradually blurring, as if it is being pulled back to its own dimension by some unseen force.

It turned into specks of black mist and slowly dissipated in the air.

Ian stood there, watching it all unfold, feeling his body gradually lose its weight. The ashes beneath his feet were collapsing, but he didn't fall; instead, he hovered in the void.

He did not struggle or try to resist.

Because he knew that this was not destruction.

This is... once again breaking away from the past. He could feel that this black and white world was being completely erased, replaced by a completely new environment.

There are no more volcanoes.

Simultaneously.

"The world is back to normal."

Ian saw the wand he was holding tightly in his palm—its original black and white colors were gradually fading, and the wand was returning to its normal color, which was clearly a return to its original color.

"Click——"

The first rays of color fell from the sky, like the first light of dawn piercing the darkness. It was a faint blue at first, and the gray sky began to tinge with a pale blue.

Then it's a pale gold.

That's the color of the sun.

Fine textures emerged from the rock surface, and the once monotonous crater rim now displayed distinct layers of shadow and luster. The air warmed, no longer the deathly cold, but carrying the warmth of life. Finally, a vibrant red appeared… the world's colors surged back like a tide, filling every inch of space.

As the last black and white fragment disappeared, Ian swayed violently, his feet landing firmly on the ground once more.

The wind blew again.

Ian looked up.

He watched as the clouds drifted slowly by, and sunlight streamed through the gaps, illuminating his face.

"Finally, I can get back on track. I've been on many different bizarre journeys, but this one is the most strange." He blinked to make sure it wasn't a hallucination.

He did indeed return to the colorful world.

This colorful world is not located in the dreamlike illusion of the past.

It is a true illusion.

“As expected… I’m back in my territory.” Ian murmured, his fingertips brushing against a glowing fern beside him, feeling the real texture of its leaves.

What I just experienced was anything but ordinary.

It's unclear why he was able to see the hazy, dreamlike past.

after all.

Judging from the current situation, the Mystic Realm, after its establishment, may have already become independent of history, a special realm that transcends time.

Even in the ancient times before the establishment of the Mystic Realm, Ian was still able to connect with it—something different from what he had guessed when he first entered the Black and White World.

no way.

Ian still doesn't quite understand a lot of the knowledge.

He didn't even know why he had just witnessed the past in the hazy illusion.

"It's definitely related to that mysterious female Titan."

Ian muttered to himself.

What he had just seen seemed more like a deliberately displayed "fragment of memory"—perhaps a game between Death and Raven, or perhaps the truth behind the illusion.

But regardless, the phrase "there's always another round"... it left much to the imagination. That sentence instilled a strong premonition in him—the battle between Death and Raven was far from over. Death hadn't truly lost, and Raven hadn't completely succeeded. Their battle was merely paused, awaiting its next restart.

Is Death hinting at this?

The next round... refers to His contest with the raven?

Or is it...with me?

Or perhaps Death never made a mistake in identifying its target.

Am I really the raven?
And the body I am using now is the baby that Raven forged?

All of a sudden.

Many speculations arose in Ian's mind. He looked up at the sky, where the aurora borealis, characteristic of the dreamlike realm, had returned, and there was no trace of death. But the chilling feeling of being watched lingered like a bone-deep ailment.

"Whoo~"

The young wizard took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Regardless of what Death was plotting, at least now he was back on his turf. Soft grass stretched beneath his feet, and in the distance, a lake reflected the starry sky, its surface dotted with luminous petals, each shimmering with a different light.

A faint floral fragrance filled the air, along with an indescribable sense of tranquility.

Yes.

After the black and white world was shattered.

Ian was no longer in the crater, but back in a place he knew all too well. This wasn't a volcano, not a black and white world, there were no Dementors and no Death.

To the left, a somber castle stands atop a cliff, its outer walls weathered and its towers soaring, as if bearing countless ancient secrets. Spires pierce the clouds, and vines climb the dark walls.

Occasionally, a few streaks of magical light would flash by.

The ancient dragon is dozing off.

That was Morgan's house, the place where he had studied dark magic and alchemy. To the right, sunlight streamed into the cozy town, the red-tiled, white-walled houses arranged in a charming, orderly fashion, the aroma of fresh bread wafting through the streets. In the distance, in front of Ariana's cottage, bedsheets hung out to dry swayed gently in the breeze.

That was Ariana's home.

And in the middle.

A clear dividing line separates the two worlds.

On the left is a gloomy and mysterious magic castle, and on the right is a warm and peaceful small town home. The two seem to be clearly divided by an invisible force.

"Isn't this my own territory that I frequently travel to and from?" Ian muttered to himself, a smile involuntarily creeping onto his lips. This was the territory that Ian was most familiar with when traveling between the two worlds.

He finally confirmed that he had returned to the true, dreamlike realm—a world woven from fate, existing independently of time, a place of refuge that belonged only to him.

"It's still more reassuring here."

Ian couldn't help but laugh, his tense nerves finally relaxing.

“I’m home…” He took a deep breath, and instead of heading towards Morgan’s gloomy castle, he turned and stepped into a forest where spring seemed to last all year round.

He needs to calm down first.

That was a magical forest where spring lasted all year round.

It was his favorite place to explore as a child. (Trees)
The trees are tall and lush, casting dappled sunlight through their branches and leaves. Colorful butterflies flutter through the forest, and occasionally you can see deer or foxes peeking out from the bushes.

Ian continued walking along the winding path.

In the forest, sunlight filtered through the leaves and shone on his face, finally allowing him to experience issues he couldn't understand in that black-and-white world.

The ground beneath my feet was soft soil.

Occasionally, a few wildflowers peek out, emitting a faint, sweet fragrance.

Suddenly, a mischievous little monkey jumped down from the tree, holding a crystal-clear fruit in its hand. It winked at him and then quickly tossed the fruit to him.

Ian caught the fruit, smiled and nodded, "Thanks."

He took a bite, and the sweet and juicy flavor instantly burst in his mouth—full of juice, with a perfect balance of sweet and sour, just the taste he remembered. It truly lived up to its reputation as Monkey's Choice.

The fruits of the dreamlike realm are like this: they are either unbearably sour or unbearably delicious. This one belongs to the delicious category, as if the entire spring has been condensed into this small fruit.

"It's definitely better here."

As Ian walked, he admired the familiar scenery, and his mood gradually relaxed.

He ate fruit as he strolled along the forest path.

Not far away, several rabbits with butterfly wings hopped through the bushes. They weren't afraid of him and instead curiously came over to sniff his boots.

"What, don't you recognize me?" Ian crouched down and reached out to rub one of the rabbits' heads. The rabbit squinted its eyes, rubbed against his palm, and then hopped away.

As you continue walking, the forest gradually opens up, and a clear lake comes into view. On the lake, several water birds swim leisurely, occasionally dipping their heads to peck at small fish in the water.

Ian sat down by the lake, gazing at the calm water, but his thoughts drifted back to what he had just experienced—the raven, Death, the heart of the Creator, and the baby.

And then there's that line, "There's always another game."

After spending about ten minutes by the lake, Ian still couldn't sort out his thoughts. He frowned, feeling that he had overlooked some important clue.

"Forget it, let's not think about it for now."

He shook his head.

Stand up.

Brushing off non-existent dust from his clothes, the boy decided to go to town to see Ariana. He continued walking, through the forest, until he reached the entrance to the town.

Everything here felt so familiar, yet it also carried an indescribable dreamlike quality. The cobblestone paths were lined with flowers, and the aroma of steaming soup wafted from the corner tavern.

That was King Arthur, also known as Pendro, who had taken over the tavern without permission. Anyway, no one else lived there, and everyone in town could freely enter and exit.

And right in the center of the square.

A familiar figure was fighting against a knight in silver armor.

"Ariana!"

Ian recognized the girl at a glance.

Even those with poor eyesight can recognize it.

After all, there are only two people living in this place.

One boy and one girl.

The girl can only be Ariana, of course.

She was wearing a light training outfit.

Holding a slender sword, she moved nimbly and steadily, each swing of the sword carrying precision and power. Her opponent was a serious-looking blond boy.

It was none other than the legendary king—King Arthur.

Before he even got close, he heard the sound of metal clashing—"Clang! Clang!"

Ariana's golden hair was tied into a neat ponytail, tracing graceful arcs through the air with her movements. Her swordsmanship was clean and precise, each swing carrying accurate power. King Arthur, on the other hand, remained as steady as a mountain, easily deflecting her attacks with his sword, occasionally counterattacking and forcing her to retreat.

The two exchanged blows, their swords flashing. Ariana remained unchanged, calm, decisive, and elegant with unwavering resolve, while King Arthur stood like an unshakeable mountain.

Every move exudes a kingly demeanor, yet retains a gentle touch.

"Keep your wrist steady!" King Arthur instructed. "You have enough strength, but your control isn't precise enough."

"Yes, teacher!" Ariana gasped for breath, but her eyes shone brightly.

Ian leaned against the fence, watching them quietly. Sunlight shone on them, and the blades of their swords reflected a dazzling light; the scene was so beautiful that he was almost in a daze.

This is the real life.

The life he wanted.

Rather than those eerie black-and-white worlds, the battle between death and ravens.

"Looks like they're practicing new tactics," Ian thought. He didn't disturb them, but simply stood quietly to the side, enjoying the long-lost peace.

The sun slowly sank in the west.

The golden afterglow bathed the town.

The battle ended, and Ariana sheathed her sword and turned around, just in time to see Ian standing not far away. She was about to greet him when she saw King Arthur frown and stare at Ian.

"You smell strange."

The blond boy spoke first.

(End of this chapter)