Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 757 Your Gift is Gone

The vast night sky gradually brightened, and more and more stars began to appear.

The campfire burned quietly, its light reflecting off both of their eyes. Loren grabbed Hermione's hair and twirled it around: "You know the story of the Book of Abraham. Perhaps you've noticed that every time this book appears, it guides the chosen wizards, helping them to forge the Philosopher's Stone in their pursuit of truth, and also guiding them to save the world and avert crises."

Hermione's bright, sparkling eyes widened, a hint of disbelief in her voice: "Wizards who obtain the Book of Abraham save the world... Is that the origin of the legend of the sages?"

Loren quietly put his arm around her waist, waiting for her to accept this information.

A few minutes later, Hermione sorted through the information and frowned slightly: "You mean, these disasters were all within the predictions of the wise Abraham?"

"I don't think so." Loren inhaled Hermione's fragrance. "As the legendary wizard who created the Philosopher's Stone, Abraham may have been thinking about leaving a treasure for his people or descendants when he wrote this book, to help them through several difficult crises or predicaments, and to promote the prosperity of his people, but he certainly wasn't thinking about saving the world thousands of years from now."

"But why...?"

"Once the Book of Abraham was created, it became part of this world, not just belonging to Abraham and his people. Rather than their will, the transmission of the book and the development of events all followed another powerful will." Loren paused, his voice slightly more emphasizing, "The will of the world."

Hermione seemed to understand but not quite: "Explain it."

The "world will hypothesis" can be traced back to around 400 BC. The philosopher Plato believed that the world was a vast living entity with individual consciousness, much like how our consciousness is composed of countless neurons. This individual consciousness is the combination of all intelligent beings, called Gaia consciousness. Gaia consciousness cannot and does not communicate with any single intelligent individual, just as we cannot communicate with any single neuron…

Thirty years ago, a meteorologist proposed a hypothesis that compared the Earth to a self-regulating living organism. This does not mean that the world is some kind of organism with individual consciousness, but there is a complex and coherent interaction between the organism and the natural environment, and there is a kind of feedback regulation mechanism that prompts the Earth to develop towards a more stable state that is more suitable for the reproduction of life.

Loren spoke slowly, giving Hermione as much time as possible to process the information: "Flame believes that there is a complex and close connection between magical creatures and the natural environment. There is also a grand magical consciousness in the entire magical world. It is the collection of the consciousness of all magical creatures. It is a part of Gaia's consciousness. Although it cannot communicate with individual magical creatures individually, because there is magic in this world that transcends the laws of nature, the magical will is more flexible than Gaia's consciousness, and the influence it can exert is more direct."

Hermione stared intently at the burning flames for a long time before speaking thoughtfully, "You mean, this will influences the transmission of the Book of Abraham, and this consciousness guides the sages of all ages to prevent the spread of disaster?"

"When Nicolas Flamel was working as a scribe in Paris, he received a clue to the Book of Abraham in a dream. Centuries later, he received a revelation in the same way and gave me the Book of Abraham." Loren gazed at the waves behind the campfire, his eyes also moving. "Flame originally thought it was his prophetic talent manifesting its magic."

"Isn't that right?"

"A very small number of chosen wizards possess a gaze that can pierce through the mists of time and space, always glimpsing a corner of the distant future at the opportune moment, drawing inspiration from it, and influencing their present reality… This magic has no rules, cannot be taught, and is difficult even for the diviners themselves to control," Loren chuckled softly. "Don't you think this magic is full of coincidences?"

"..."

The elusive third eye, the unpredictable prophecies, and the way to obtain information are through dreams or delirious ramblings.

Hermione paused, her eyes widening: "Prophecy itself is a manifestation of magical consciousness!"

"We can't give a definitive answer right now, but at least that's what Flamel and I think," Loren said softly. "In short, Abraham left behind the method for making the Philosopher's Stone, and he also left a powerful curse on it. Over the thousands of years, this book did not bring prosperity to Abraham's descendants and people. Instead, through various coincidences, it was passed down in the hands of a few wizards, gradually weaving together the legend of the sage."

"I see……"

Hermione tugged at his sleeve, as if wrapping herself tightly in a blanket, and nuzzled his cheek. "What did the other legendary wizards leave behind?"

"Merlin and Morgan the Fairy summarized the experiences of the Dark Ages, pointing the way for those who came after."

As Loren spoke, he pointed towards the campfire, and the fire immediately reversed. The remaining charcoal and ashes from the fire gathered together again, turning into whole pieces of firewood.

When he removed his fingers, the firewood quickly burned out, but the fire remained unchanged.

"If a wizard becomes too powerful to be stopped, the magic of the time-space fragments can be used to banish them from this world, thus leaving behind the magic of time and space."

"So these two magical powers were left behind by the fairies Morgan and Merlin..." Hermione raised an eyebrow. "No wonder you can control them."

"As for Mr. Salazar Slytherin, he is too mysterious. Although he left behind a lot of things, Flamel and I still can't figure out his intentions. The Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk, the wand and the pendant, and most notably, Ms. Daisy Dodridge in the Time Rift."

"The first few items were left behind by him before he left Hogwarts. Perhaps he hadn't foreseen the future then, and after leaving Hogwarts, he arranged for Madam Dodric to stay behind..." Hermione looked thoughtful. "Could it be just to send us a message?"

"Who knows, these guys are so secretive..."

Loren paused briefly, buried his face in Hermione's neck, and took a deep breath: "These old folks never imagined that these things from different eras could come together, influence each other, and intertwine, pointing me to another path."

"What road?" Hermione felt a little itchy and couldn't help but shrink her neck.

"The road to saving the world."

After saying this, Loren quickly pecked Hermione on the lips, without intending to say anything more.

I really didn't expect that.

It turns out the world really does only focus on me.

I inexplicably stumbled into this magical world. I originally thought the biggest danger was the terrifying Voldemort. As long as the old headmaster died first and Harry followed in his footsteps, we could have a fairytale ending around graduation. Then I could live a comfortable life, be the man behind the Minister of Magic, and slowly retire when I get old. I could then help Dumbledore realize his dream of traveling the world. Just thinking about it made me feel wonderful.

Now that he knows he has a main quest, he doesn't feel panicked or anxious. According to historical calculations, that war shouldn't have broken out in their time.

There's still a tiny bit of a sense of urgency.

After all, mermaids are indeed an endangered species. In another ten or twenty years, if some Muggles recklessly dump sewage into the sea, they may really become extinct.

Hermione hunched her neck and secretly glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. They chatted on and on until late at night, talking about so many things, but then they stopped here. Her curiosity was like the claws of Crookshanks, constantly pawing and poking at him.

Abraham, Merlin and Morgan, Slytherin and Nicolas Flamel...

To stand shoulder to shoulder with these wizards and become part of the grand history of magic—such a great and exciting thing—yet this person has such a nonchalant look on his face.

Hermione felt another kiss on her neck, a tingling, ticklish sensation.

It disrupts your thoughts and is annoying.

Since Grandpa Bates was cured of his werewolf disease, he has become increasingly relaxed and calm. He used to be nervous and worried about some unexpected things, but now that he has completely defeated Voldemort, his legendary magic and the Elder Wand have become his confidence, and he has become completely carefree.

A slightly salty and fishy smell seemed to linger around the tip of my nose.

"Hermione, what shower gel are you using? It smells so nice..."

"snort……"

Hermione made a soft nasal sound, pursing her lips and gritting her teeth as she silently pondered how to get information out of him.

"Sizzle..."

The man was sucking on her earlobe.

"Stop!" Hermione blushed and pushed him away, glaring at him. "If you're not going to continue, then go to sleep. We have to go back to New York tomorrow!"

This level of reproach was lighter than the waves; instead, the girl's huffy expression resembled that of a little witch who had been bullied in her early school years.

Loren suppressed a laugh, continued to hold her, inhaling her fragrance, and whispered, "The day isn't over yet, it's still my birthday, and we're a couple, can't we even kiss and hug?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

This person always has so many excuses; you can't just go along with him, but you also can't easily refute him.

She pursed her lips: "Do you remember the birthday present I mentioned?"

"I remember!" Loren nodded emphatically, answering quickly.

Hermione leaned close to his head and whispered a few words in his ear: "..."

"!!"

Loren's eyes widened immediately, his expression a mixture of seven parts ecstatic joy and three parts disbelief.

Hermione looked at him quietly: "That was the plan before, but now, because of your performance, the plan is off."

Please forgive me.

"Unforgivable." Hermione's tone was flat, almost cold. "What's done is done, just like the waves don't recede, and time can't be turned back."

Who says time can't be reversed!

Loren gripped the pendant on his chest, closed his eyes and muttered to himself, then got up and walked backwards back to the tent.

It wasn't that time had actually reversed; he was just making this gesture to show that his time had reversed. Unfortunately, his acting was a bit clumsy, and he even tripped and almost fell when he backed into the tent.

Hermione's expression remained calm.

After sitting in front of the campfire for a while, adjusting the firewood and keeping the flames burning, I felt sleepy and stood up, brushing the sand off my trousers and turning to walk into the tent.

The person lay in the sleeping bag, still muttering to himself with his eyes closed, immersed in a fantasy of time reversal, as if putting on a great performance would move her and make her give the gift again.

Hermione crawled into another sleeping bag and lay down.

After a moment's thought, she turned over and leaned in, kissing his forehead.

This can also be considered a gift.

……

The village of Autri Saint Cachipol, a humble dwelling.

A crooked and twisted chimney swayed on the dilapidated house, wisps of white smoke billowing from its mouth.

Approaching the kitchen of this house, the first sound is the sizzling of eggs in a pan. Flames lick the bottom of the pan, and hot oil gradually turns the transparent egg whites into a golden brown. Slices of toast are being fried nearby, and milk is being heated in a double boiler, emitting a rich, milky aroma. The not-so-spacious kitchen is bustling with activity, but only a somewhat short and plump middle-aged red-haired witch is in charge of all the cooking utensils.

Footsteps could be faintly heard coming from upstairs.

At this time, it was Marjorie, a Muggle girl, who got up. She was Sirius's stepdaughter. Betty had just given birth and was recuperating at home. The girl came to visit the Burrow during the summer vacation and was full of curiosity about everything in the wizarding family. Every morning, she was the first to finish washing up and come to the kitchen, her eyes shining as she observed all the cooking utensils that she could use to cook.

Actually, the old house in Black also had similar kitchen utensils, but those things had been idle for many years, and Molly found them a bit awkward to use, unlike the Burrow which was so light and easy to use.

"Knock knock knock!"

The sound of footsteps on the stairs stopped.

Marjorie should have gone down to the first floor by now.

A series of lighter footsteps came from the hallway outside, and a figure pushed open the door and entered the kitchen. She was wearing a loose wizarding robe with the Gryffindor crest embroidered on her chest and arms. It was unclear which of her older brothers had left it, as the Weasleys only had Gryffindor robes.

Good morning, Molly!

Marjorie greeted them warmly and affectionately, her eyes glued to the wizard's kitchen utensils, looking here and there: "It smells so good!"

Molly's radiant smile was the most comforting sight for a housewife who gets up early to make breakfast for the whole family.

"Breakfast will be ready soon, Marjorie. Perhaps you'd like to come with me to Diagon Alley this morning? George and Fred's joke club is there, with lots of interesting little gadgets that you can play without a wand. I'm sure you'll love them."

Molly quickly washed a plate, wiping it on her apron. "And Bill and Charlie, they're busy with Gringotts work. I heard they've discovered some new ruins, they haven't been back for days... Honestly! I don't know what's going on at Gringotts, how come they're busier than the joke house and the Ministry of Magic? I definitely have to ask those goblins later!"

"Well……"

Marjorie's eyes darted around as she slowly walked out of the kitchen. "Actually, I'd rather take you shopping at our supermarket. I think you'd like it, don't you think?"

"A Muggle supermarket?"

Molly was about to agree when she suddenly realized something was wrong. She turned to stare at the Muggle girl, her eyes sharp and alert: "Are you trying to distract me? Are you hiding something from me?"

"Uh...no, no."

"Did George and Fred tell you to do it?"

"No, no!"

"Has Ron gotten into trouble again?"

No, no.

"That is..."

Molly asked around, then remembered her two sons whom she trusted most but who hadn't returned home for several days. Her eyes widened slightly: "It's Bill and Charlie!?"

(End of this chapter)