In the Apocalypse, I Can Enter Hogwarts

Chapter 73 Reappearance

Suddenly Ian realized that it wasn't that his pajama pants had become too short, but that he had grown taller as a result of his physical development.

He also realized that each time travel seemed to be a fleeting moment, but the 30 days he spent on each side were actually consuming his life force.

"We can afford to keep going like this for a short time, but it's definitely a long-term problem. It seems I'll have to ask Eileen to put aside her other tasks tomorrow and focus on helping me organize Nicolas Flamel's information."

While fiddling with the Philosopher's Stone given to him by Dumbledore, Ian secretly pondered a solution.

After all, Eileen has a master's degree in information management, and she has a specialized field. By having her compile and select the key points of the books, he could then review them one by one, which undoubtedly greatly improved his learning efficiency.

……

Nothing happened that night. At the break of dawn, it was another bright and sunny morning. Ian woke up and stretched comfortably.

He got out of bed, drew back the curtains, and let the golden sunlight shine on his face. The warm feeling made him close his eyes and enjoy the relaxation and tranquility of the moment.

He grew to love this leisurely life more and more.

The sound of water droplets falling outside told me that Eileen was watering the vegetables in the yard again.

He turned around, picked up the thick marker, and wrote the number 153 in the notebook by his bedside. This was the total time he had experienced at Hogwarts and in the apocalypse since he was able to travel between the two worlds—153 days.

This was something he had thought about before going to bed last night. In this post-apocalyptic world, he would no longer look at the calendar; he would only need to accurately record the number of days he had spent.

As usual, Ian brushed his teeth, washed his face, changed his clothes, and dressed neatly. He then pushed open the door to the living room and entered his backpack space.

I packed up and organized all the books about Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone, including but not limited to biographies, unofficial histories, and various rumors and legends, totaling about 100 books.

After finishing all that, he went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Because he had something on his mind, he only chose simple ingredients and cooking methods: a bowl of white porridge, two fried eggs, and a vegetable salad. It was simple but ensured that the body had the necessary nutrients.

I glanced out the window. In the two months since this courtyard was built, it has undergone tremendous changes. Most of the space outside the wall has been completely occupied by various plants, leaving only a narrow passage at the gate stubbornly holding on.

The courtyard is filled with various vegetables, and there are also some flowers and plants around it.

Although they looked somewhat withered and lifeless, Eileen still kept them very neat. It seems she had seriously studied those gardening books, after all, it is not easy to trim vegetables into a garden-like appearance.

The temperature in November was already a bit low. After making breakfast, Ian lit the fireplace in the living room and calmly brewed himself a warm cup of black tea. After all, habits become second nature, and some habits are truly etched deep in one's heart.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way..." He hummed a song while sitting on the sofa, fiddling with a sailboat model he had bought for free at the mall.

In short, he was completely uninhibited here, playing and singing as he pleased, unafraid of embarrassment or criticism. Perhaps this was the moment when he was truly relaxed and happy, living as himself rather than growing up according to worldly rules.

"You seem inexplicably happy? Like a child who hasn't grown up. Christmas is still a long way off..."

Eileen had just finished watering the vegetables outside and entered the living room when she heard Ian humming a familiar tune. At the same time, she saw him seriously playing with his toys and couldn't help but find it a little funny.

"It'll be a while, but that won't affect my singing, will it? There are so many unexpected things in this world, so enjoy the present and don't worry about the future..."

Ian put down the toy he was holding, stood up to greet the other person, and said, "Let's go have breakfast together. I have something more important to tell you afterward."

Eileen replied somewhat helplessly, "I'd only just started my previous job, and now I have to change jobs again?"

"It's not about changing jobs, it's still about organizing books and information, but this time I have a more precise goal, so I can put the previous ones aside for now."

Ian also felt that changing his mind so often was a bit unfair to Eileen, but at the moment he only cared about two things: the Philosopher's Stone and the Bloodline Potion. He couldn't rely on Eileen for the latter, but organizing the Philosopher's Stone and Nicolas Flamel's biography was in line with her expertise, so it was a good use of her talents.

"Fine, you're the boss, you make the decisions, I'll listen to you." Eileen spread her hands, looking indifferent.

Ian suddenly felt quite lucky. There are two kinds of gentleness in girls: one is the gentleness nurtured by family and love, and the other is the gentleness that comes from experiencing life's trials. And he had encountered both. The former was as innocent and lovely as Hermione, and the latter was as obedient and compliant as Irene.

……

"That's all. What I need is information about the Philosopher's Stone, as well as the life and special events of its creator, Nicolas Flamel. You'll have to consider the specifics. If you make any important discoveries along the way, just tell me. You don't need to wait until everything is finished before giving it to me all at once."

After breakfast, Ian pointed to a pile of books on the living room table and explained to Eileen the key points of their mission.

Eileen nodded gently and calmly analyzed, "So many books? Just about one person and one event?"

"Yes, that's why I need your help. I suggest you start with this book." With that, Ian pulled out a two-inch-thick tome, "The Legendary Life of Nicolas Flamel," from the top of the stack of books and handed it to him.

After giving his instructions, he said with some relief, "Alright, the rest is up to you. I need to build a greenhouse for the vegetable garden before the snow falls, otherwise all our hard work over the past few months will be for nothing."

After speaking, Ian turned and walked towards the door. Eileen watched him leave silently until he was completely out of sight. Then, she lowered her head, staring at the book in her hands, and murmured to herself:

"Even if it's just a little bit, as long as it helps you, that's enough, even though I don't have much time left..."

When Ian arrived at his vegetable garden, he discovered that Eileen had been watering the plants but not fertilizing them for a long time, causing all the seedlings to be stunted and yellowing, except for the resilient potato seedlings which were still growing vigorously.

"The farmer is all about manure. This silly kid is obviously not cut out for growing vegetables..." He could tell at a glance that this was a clear sign that the nutrients in the soil had been completely depleted.

Fortunately, Hogsmeade had some dragon dung they had bought earlier, so they went back and retrieved all the packaged dung. During this time, they saw Eileen had already started working and was intently writing something, so they wisely refrained from disturbing her.

"That's what you call professionalism... specialization is definitely true."

Ian was very fortunate to have a professional like Eileen to help him organize the materials; otherwise, who knows how long it would have taken him to sift through and organize the useful content from so many books.

He swung the hoe and tilled the land again and again. Perhaps due to the long-term lack of organic fertilizer, the soil had hardened and compacted. In any case, every swing of the hoe seemed extremely strenuous.

But Ian, like a Muggle, worked honestly in the field. At that moment, he didn't want to use magic; he just wanted to do simple, honest work.

"If nothing changes, in this broken world, perhaps owning such a manor to settle down and make a living would be my lifelong dream, to live here, to work here, and to finally rest here..."

After an unknown amount of time, Ian finally stopped swinging his hoe. He now resembled a true farmer, sitting on the ground with his farming tools beside him and a water jug ​​in his hand.

A man stood silently gazing at the small vegetable garden. The warm early winter sun shone down its gentle rays, warming the few remaining creatures on this land. At that moment, he suddenly felt that everything was so beautiful.

Unpacking the bag of dragon dung, there was no pungent smell; it was dry and loose, similar to the pelleted feed from my previous life.

He grabbed a handful of the dragon manure and spread it evenly on the tilled land. The vegetable garden, which was over 400 square meters, only used less than half of the manure. After tying up the rest of the bag, Ian went to the side to wash his hands and check the results of his labor.

It was only recently sprinkled with dragon dung, so there was no visible change to the naked eye. However, thanks to the wizard's keen senses, Ian clearly felt the difference. In this small vegetable garden, all the plants and seedlings were now exuding a thriving vitality.

"Life, all living beings, and all the secrets behind living—perhaps the most fundamental thing is—vitality. Vitality is everywhere..."

Ian was deeply moved. The faint vitality emanating from the plants throughout the garden captivated him for a moment. The plants' will to follow their life instincts and their adherence to the laws of nature were both pure and magnificent...

"If you're the wind, you should be free, soaring in the endless sky. If you're the rain, you should be gentle, washing away all the dust of the world..." Ian murmured his thoughts without any apparent reason.

A sudden impulse struck him, and he instinctively drew his wand from the lining of his robe, pointing it diagonally upwards towards the sky. "Patriot..."

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(End of this chapter)