Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 315 Harry's Midnight Adventure Team

"More than a miracle!"

At this moment, Kettleburn, who was slowly emerging from the terrifying state of his consciousness being almost destroyed by information, noticed that some strange "knowledge" was emerging in his mind.

The rhythm of living organisms, the unwinding and compression of strange spirals, the coupling and dispersal of many bizarre substances in a colorful and inexplicable space—all sorts of illusory things emerge in the depths of consciousness.

In an instant, Kettleburn had a sudden realization—these illusions revealed the secrets of Aracleide's life.

From macroscopic state indicators to microscopic molecular-level organic compounds.

They came from the information that had been forcibly implanted into his mind not long ago.

Experiencing the "knowledge" transformed from information, Kettleburn's face, covered in hideous scars, flushed slightly with excitement: "You've created a great magic, Mr. Weasley—"

He wanted to describe the wonder he felt, but found his limited vocabulary inadequate to do so.

Vaughn smiled without saying a word.

In fact, this magic is currently a product of compromise.

His original intention was to create a magic that would grant wizards higher-dimensional vision, allowing them to see through the secrets of all matter.

The "seeing through" here does not mean penetrating or transparent, but rather a concept of unfolding in all dimensions. In a high-dimensional vision, low-dimensional matter, whether macroscopic or microscopic, will appear like a series of constantly unfolding "boxes," exposing everything about itself to the high-dimensional vision.

Even photons are like this.

Therefore, this idea was rejected by Vaughn before it even began.

The human brain cannot withstand such a massive influx of information, and it is not even able to filter or block it. All the methods available in low-dimensional vision will unfold in all dimensions under high-dimensional vision.

Imagine that the air, photons, magic, and even aura within your field of vision transform into countless "boxes," overwhelming and filling your eyes—

It would be strange if they didn't go crazy.

Therefore, although based on Warn's experience observing hypercubes, developing high-dimensional vision is a more beneficial direction for the future, it still had to be put on hold.

Instead, it combines mathematical knowledge and utilizes high-dimensional geometry, non-Euclidean geometry, topology, and so on to temporarily construct a spatial magic that can accommodate low-dimensional matter and, like a "megaphone," continuously "play" the information of low-dimensional matter to the surroundings.

"It is still very imperfect, and its utilization of higher-dimensional spatial structures is still very crude. After all, it is based on my own understanding and is essentially false, a 'dream bubble' rather than truly originating from higher dimensions. However, it is already useful as a research tool."

Thinking it over, Vaughn approached the fleshy polyhedron.

The aura of the Multispectral Vision Spell covering his eyes slowly dimmed.

As the last glimmer of light faded, the information frenzy that Kettleburn had experienced moments before—the countless flesh and blood, the spiral evolution of DN, the activities of organic molecules, and so on—the unfolding of dimensions, carried by light waves, instantly flooded into his eyes.

Faced with the flood of information that came rushing at them like a torrent, Vaughn performed much better than Kettleburn.

Deep within his consciousness, Vaughn's main consciousness slowly "raised" his head.

This boundless space of consciousness is now roaring and trembling, and the endless darkness in the distance is no longer as tranquil and profound as it used to be.

Countless "open boxes" are constantly pouring in from the outside.

That was the information received visually, the infusion of information from the Alacride flesh-and-blood polyhedron, which, like a plague, filth, and rage, relentlessly washed over and eroded Vaughn's consciousness and mind.

"For an ordinary wizard, such an endless influx of information would definitely overheat their brain. After all, the activity of the human brain is essentially electrical activity and chemical energy conversion, and energy conversion naturally produces waste heat—hmm, and perhaps decoherent radiation as well?"

Looking at the "top of his head," Vaughn paid little attention to the information constantly pouring in from the outside and eroding his consciousness space, and even had time to think.

Because around him, within his entire consciousness, countless personas emerged from the thick white fog.

Those human-shaped silhouettes silently rushed toward the incoming information, climbing and piling up to form a magnificent wall that blocked the torrent of information.

The raw material for personality is emotion.

Since creating the Personification Body, Vaughn has spread it to many people—not just junior wizards at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore's territory, where Vaughn also has to consider his opinion.

It is C.

Werewolves, with their tumultuous experiences and rich emotions, are excellent providers of emotional raw materials, so his conscious space has now accumulated countless personality constructs.

Such consumption is tolerable.

Moreover, it can prevent information from truly invading the consciousness space, as the brain automatically transforms information into knowledge, thus avoiding the waste heat generated.

As he pondered, Vaughn "saw" the scorching battlefield above him. The first large group of personality suits that had been pushed forward suddenly collapsed, perishing together with a lump of shapeless information.

A hazy mist, its color indistinguishable, slowly descended.

A thought struck Vaughn.

As the mist fell, it continuously reorganized, gradually transforming into a picture. Vaughn waved, and the picture automatically floated over.

Upon closer inspection, the image depicts Alacride bound by polyhedra, but unlike what is seen from the outside world, Alacride in this image is static, her flesh and blood resembling an anatomical diagram, frozen in a single state.

"This is the decomposed information, which, through a suicidal attack disguised as a person, deconstructs and filters the chaos brought about by the high-dimensional 'playback,' transforming it into safe and uncontaminated knowledge."

Thinking it over, Vaughn transferred it to the Memory Archives.

The next moment, a sudden realization dawned on me.

"This is a continuous change of Alacride's body in a certain time zone in the future. It is actually still dynamic, but the changes in spacetime are smaller than my perception of spacetime, so I see it as still. As for the specific time zone, it is difficult to distinguish. It should be smaller than my neural reaction time, otherwise I would not have the illusion that it is frozen."

"Is this the limitation of lower-dimensional life forms?"

In reality, Vaughn, whose main consciousness had returned to his body, frowned slightly, but quickly relaxed.

The limitations of human perception of the smallest scale of spatiotemporal continuity are to be expected; they are natural barriers that cannot be overcome by any means.

Being able to confirm that the transformation from information to knowledge is not Planck time is already a pleasant surprise—otherwise, 1 second equals 1043 fractals, which would drive people crazy.

"Indeed, the characteristics of higher-dimensional spacetime no longer remain linear, but instead take the form of fractals, cycles, or spiraling Möbius strips, constantly subdividing, or with the past and future appearing simultaneously—"

Vaughn silently sensed it.

As more and more filtered "knowledge" was incorporated into the memory archive in his consciousness space, he finally stopped directly receiving information and cast a multispectral vision spell on himself again.

I saw his eyes regain their magical light.

Kettleburn, who had been waiting, asked, "How did it go?"

Vaughn shook his head slightly and spoke of the higher-dimensional spacetime characteristics he had sensed: "—These characteristics have both advantages and disadvantages for our experiments."

"Advantages and disadvantages?" Kettleburn asked, puzzled. "From the knowledge I've received, I've also sensed that this giant eight-eyed spider's entire life seems to be superimposed within the polyhedron. Wouldn't that actually hinder our experiment?"

If time is no longer linear, how can we be sure of the continuity of our research?

Faced with his question, Vaughn's eyes crinkled into a smile, but instead of answering directly, he asked, "Professor, have you ever considered the fundamental difference between the magic of wizards and the magic wielded by magical creatures?"

Without hesitation, Kettleburn said, "The magic of wizards comes from the soul, while the magic of magical creatures comes from their magical organs. The structure of the magical organs is a ritual from which magic is generated—child, I have read your paper on the magical organs of werewolves, and I must say, it is very interesting and quite reasonable, at least I agree with it."

"Thank you." Vaughn nodded politely, but didn't stop asking questions. "Since you agree with my point of view, have you noticed something strange about my theory?"

"What?"

"The general understanding in the magical world is that magic is a combination of magical power, emotions, rituals, and mystery. Magical power and emotions are the energy source, rituals are the structure that forms magic, so what is mystery?"

Kettleburn, without hesitation, replied: "All things have a spirit, and mystery is 'spirit,' which is what we commonly call spirituality, just a different name!"

This is one of the core tenets of the Golden Soul Theory.

It has been deeply ingrained in people's hearts for hundreds of years.

Vaughn remained noncommittal, but continued, "Then, what is spirituality?"

"When the spirituality reached this point, Kettleburn was finally stunned. His mouth opened and closed, and the short, light beard he had deliberately grown on his cheeks trembled. Several times he wanted to give a conclusion, but he hesitated and swallowed it back."

Yes, what is spirituality?

The Golden Soul theory offers an explanation for this, suggesting that spirituality is part of the Golden Soul (the cosmic soul).

But this doesn't actually explain what spirituality is. Thinking about it now only makes things more confusing. What is the golden soul? Is it some kind of element? Or something else entirely? Is spirituality some manifestation of it, or some substance that constitutes it?

For a moment, Kettleburn felt completely overwhelmed.

I have this strange feeling that my head was recently filled with knowledge and is about to explode.

After hesitating for a long time, he finally gave up and asked Vaughn in a cheeky manner, "What do you think spirituality is?"

"I don't know, Professor," Vaughn said with a faint smile. "That's why I said the nonlinearity of spacetime has both advantages and disadvantages for our experiments. The advantage is that we can receive Araclew's 'knowledge' from birth to death, which may reveal spiritual secrets."

g■ggg■■■

"What do you think Vaughn is doing right now?"

In the dead of night, Harry tossed and turned in the Gryffindor Tower, unable to sleep.

His mind kept replaying the conversation that had taken place in the auditorium that morning.

The twins' lament, Malfoy's unusually serious expression, and everyone's pessimism about the future of the Duel Club.

A cold breeze swept in through the window, making the dormitory very quiet.

But as Harry asked the question, the previously even breathing sounds from the surrounding beds suddenly became disordered, and the anxious sounds of bodies tossing and turning rose and fell all around.

A moment later, Seamus Finigan's reply came from the darkness: "This afternoon, I heard Lee Jordan say that he saw Vaughn and Professor Kettleburn together."

"That professor from the Magical Creatures class?" Dean Thomas asked. "What are they doing together?"

"I don't know. Lee Jordan met them outside the library. The two seemed to be discussing something."

"Research? Good heavens, at a time like this, doesn't he care at all about the club's survival?"

Compared to the anxious Dean, the usually most unruly Seamus appeared quite calm and composed: "What can Vaughn do?"

The club's fate rests in the hands of the school board. You heard what Malfoy said, right? Without the school board's approval, Vaughn isn't even qualified to attend a meeting!

"But—" Dean said reluctantly, "But Vaughn is a member of the Order of Merlin, and a member of the Wizengamot!"

"But this is Hogwarts, Dean, not Wizengamor."

This reality is truly disheartening.

Dean's heavy, stifled sigh came from the other end of the dormitory.

At the same time, one could hear Ron tossing and turning in bed.

Harry didn't know what to say. These questions were far beyond his knowledge. Although he wanted to help, how could he?

"If only Dumbledore were here."

He muttered to himself.

Before the words were even finished, a dark head suddenly popped out from beside the bed: "Can you contact Dumbledore?"

The familiar voice made Harry, who had been startled, breathe a sigh of relief; it was Ron.

He shoved Ron's head away irritably, put on his glasses, and then noticed that it wasn't just Ron who heard him muttering; Seamus, Dean, and Neville were also there.

The faint light from the snowy sky streaming in through the window allowed him to make out their silhouettes. They all looked up, seemingly gazing at him.

Although Dumbledore often acted erratically, the Gryffindor lion cubs considered him the most capable and trustworthy person in the eyes of the headmaster.

They believed that nothing could stump him.

Harry shook his head: "He's still in the East, that's too far away. Only Fawkes could cross such a long distance."

"What is Fox?" Dean asked.

"A phoenix, a magical creature that only the Dumbledore family can possess. You should have seen it on the Chocolate Frog cards; it's the bird perched on Dumbledore's shoulder." Neville was the one who explained. He and Ron were the only ones in the dormitory who grew up in the wizarding world, so they could be considered "well-informed."

As for Seamus and Dean, both are half-bloods. Seamus's father is a Muggle and his mother is a witch. Although he learned about the magical world from his mother since childhood, he didn't go too deep because of his Muggle father, and his knowledge was limited to the content of the Daily Prophet and the Witch Weekly, which his mother loved.

Dean's situation is a bit more special. He is also half-blood, but his wizard father left him and his mother early on to protect them. Dean grew up entirely in Muggle society and his understanding of the wizarding world is at the same level as Harry's.

Upon hearing Neville's words, both of them widened their eyes, which gleamed in the darkness.

"I thought it was a royal concubine chicken!"

"No, it looks more like a crow with alopecia!"

The two bickered for a moment, then fell silent. Seamus suddenly said, "Harry, maybe you could go find Fawkes now and ask him to send a text message to Dumbledore, and hopefully bring him back."

"what?"

Harry paused for a moment, then couldn't resist pulling his wand from under his pillow and casting a glowing charm.

A soft white light instantly filled the entire dormitory room. Harry held up the ball of light and saw Seamus's serious expression at the other end of the room.

He didn't seem to be joking.

"Now—?" Harry hesitated, pushing up his glasses. "There's a curfew at the castle. What if Filch catches us—"

"Come on!"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "You and Ron often sneak out using that invisibility gadget, do you think we don't know?"

As he spoke, he looked at Dean and Neville.

Harry and Ron also looked over.

Neville's round face turned bright red, and he waved his hands repeatedly: "I didn't tell anyone, Harry, I can swear to Merlin."

Dean, on the other hand, looked completely bewildered: "?"

Simo: "—I always thought you'd figured it out too."

"What did you find?"

"—Never mind, looks like you slept well." Too lazy to deal with his oblivious friend, Seamus turned back to Harry. "Everyone has their secrets. I didn't want to say them, but this isn't an ordinary situation. We desperately need Dumbledore back to counterbalance the Board of Governors. At the very least, we can't let those guys shut down our Dueling Club, right, Harry?"

Harry certainly didn't want the dueling club to be shut down.

In fact, although some strange situations always arise during curriculum reform, and although I have suffered a lot in practical classes.

But there's no doubt that Harry really enjoyed the Practical Class, and the dueling club that went with it.

After what happened at the end of last semester, although he was still a little confused and still a bit childishly playful, Harry had come to realize the power of magic.

He also knew that someone whose name he couldn't mention had been secretly threatening him.

Ordinary courses could no longer meet his need to defend against threats; only practical classes and the dueling club gave him hope that he could grow rapidly.

He didn't want things to go wrong more than anyone else.

but--

Harry didn't refute it, tacitly agreeing to the Invisibility Cloak, and then said with a wry smile, "Fox has been staying in the Headmaster's office. Since Dumbledore left, only Vaughn and Professor McGonagall know the key to open the door. Even if we want to find it, we need to be able to get into the Headmaster's office."

"No!"

Ron suddenly spoke up: "There's another way to help us contact Fox!"

"Um?"

Several people turned their gazes toward them.

Ron, usually the team's comedian, appeared unusually witty and composed. He said, "Fruit tea!"