Hogwarts: Lacus doesn't want to be a witch who destroys nations.

Chapter 132 Cycle

Lux suddenly opened her eyes, feeling that familiar tingling sensation for the second time. A dozen pairs of round eyes were staring at her, and the Thunderbird's beak was relentlessly pecking at the corner of her blanket.

"Enough!" Lux sat up abruptly, her movement so fast that it startled the magical creatures watching, who all took a half-step back.

She rubbed her messy blonde hair in frustration. "I know the procedure! Newt will come in soon with a plate of cut fruit and ask, 'You're awake? They seem to really like you—'"

Before he could finish speaking, the box door creaked open.

"Oh, you're awake!" Newt said, carrying a fruit platter, his face showing the excitement and slight apology typical of a researcher. "They seem to really like you, especially the Thunderbird. It doesn't usually approach strangers easily. Is there something on you—"

Lux interrupted him expressionlessly: "There's something special about it, or something I dreamt about last night. Yes, Newt, I know. I also know you're going to study the Ball Birds next and then almost eat your observation notes like cookies."

Newt's mouth gaped open, the rest of his sentence stuck in his throat, "You—how could you—"

"Because I'm experiencing that damn same day!"

Lux threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, quickly pulling on the dirty men's jacket and haphazardly stuffing her blond hair into her hat. "Don't ask. It's too time-consuming to explain, and you'll forget it in a second. Tina'll be here soon. We'll go see Pique."

Ms. Li, then went to that run-down tavern and came up empty-handed, but this time it's different!

She patted her bulging pocket, which contained not only her wand and the dreamcatcher, but also a piece of parchment of a special texture. It was a letter that Ms. Picqueri had written to her "next self" in the previous cycle.

"We have a plan this time, Newt, let's go." Lux quickly climbed out of the box, leaving Newt alone staring blankly at the fruit platter and a group of bewildered magical creatures.

Sure enough, Tina appeared at the alley entrance on time, still wearing that neat dark blue travel cloak.

"So fast?" Tina's lines finally changed.

But Lux didn't give her a chance to continue the formalities, and directly pulled out Piqueli's letter and handed it to her: "Tina, there's no time to explain, look at this first, we need to see Ms. Piqueli immediately, skip all the formalities."

Tina unfolded the letter with a puzzled look, her eyes quickly scanning it before her expression instantly turned serious.

The handwriting on the letter was indeed Piqueli's, and it also bore a special magical mark. The content was concise yet terrifying, detailing the time loop, the dreamcatcher, and the upcoming action plan.

"Merlin—" Tina gasped, looking at Lux in shock. "This—this is real?"

"It's the real deal, and we probably only have—" Lux glanced at the non-existent watch—less than twenty-three hours to fix this, and then everything will reset again. Let's go!

This time, the meeting process was streamlined to the extreme.

Upon seeing the letter, the slight surprise on Picqueri's face was quickly replaced by absolute seriousness.

She didn't even wait for Lux to repeat herself before getting up.

"Come with me to the city center. We need to find someone who really knows their stuff." Her tone was firm and decisive, without any hesitation.

The central district of the Wizarding World in America is more rugged than Diagon Alley, with fewer quaint shops and more of a bustling and practical atmosphere.

The wizards hurried about, and all sorts of strange magical artifacts glittered in the shop windows.

With a clear goal in mind, Piqueli led them through several bustling alleys and stopped in front of an inconspicuous shop with a curtain adorned with strings of feathers and seashells. The sign above the door read "Spirit Wind" in ancient Native American script.

The shop was filled with the scents of herbs and smoke. A Native American witch with jet-black hair and a face etched with deep wrinkles sat behind a pile of colorful threads and feathers, her fingers deftly weaving something. She looked up, her gaze sharp as an eagle's, and nodded slightly when she saw Picqueli.

Piqueli placed the dreamcatcher directly on the counter. "Cassady, we need your wisdom. How much do you know about this?"

The witch known as Kassadi put down her work, picked up the dreamcatcher, and gently ran her fingertips over the dull metal wires and withered feathers. Her eyes became empty, as if she were reading information from them.

"A shattered dream—distorted time—" she murmured, her voice hoarse. "This is not a blessing, it is a prison. Someone used the coldness of the stars and the bitterness of tears of regret to forcibly distort the ancient blessing, turning it into a net that captures possibilities. It was supposed to filter out nightmares and leave behind beautiful dreams, but now it has seized a moment that should not have been seized and anchored a soul in this painful cycle."

She raised her eyes, her gaze piercing Lux: "You, child, you are not dreaming. You are the moment that is trapped in what is seen as a nightmare. This web considers your existence to be an error that needs to be constantly corrected until it is erased. With each cycle, it tries to digest you, or let you collapse and dissipate on your own in endless repetition."

Lux felt a chill run down her spine: "How many more of these are there? How can we break them?"

Kassadi shook his head: "I don't know. The person who created it had a profound yet twisted understanding of ancient shamanism and alchemy. This is no ordinary thing. This is also the first time I have seen the Nightmare Web successfully modified and activated. Legends are just legends, but this—"

She weighed the dreamcatcher in her hand. "This is a living curse."

She looked at Picqueri: "If you're looking for knowledge of the roots, those 'Silent Ones' in the Ministry of Magic, who lurk in the shadows studying the rules of the world, probably know more than I do, especially—the people in the Hall of Time."

Without a moment's hesitation, Piccolo immediately turned around: "To the Ministry of Magic!"

The headquarters of the Magical Congress of the United States of America appeared efficient, with wizards moving briskly through the huge hall, the gleam of bronze and marble reflecting a businesslike indifference.

With the lingering influence of the former chairman and Tina's guidance, Piqueli led them unimpeded all the way down to the underground level, arriving at a black obsidian door that was unmarked yet exuded a powerful isolating magic.

Piqueli went directly to the current Director of the Department of Mysteries, a thin, pale man whose eyes seemed to be forever focused on a distant time and space; his name was Cassius.

Piqueli succinctly explained the situation and handed the dreamcatcher to Cassius.

Chief Cassius took the dreamcatcher but did not touch it directly with his hands; instead, he let it float above his palm.

"Time isn't a river; it's more like a tangled mess of threads." He began, his voice as calm as stating a physics formula. "Rewind magic, including time-tampering magic, carefully loops a small loop along a thread, unable to alter the main line, and ultimately must return to the original state. But this—"