I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 449 Death, Precia

Do wizards also develop beliefs?

The sound of sacred music filled the air, inevitably causing some doubt in people's hearts.

The group entered the town.

This is a medieval-style town. Glowing willow trees illuminate the roads everywhere.

The ancient cobblestone streets shimmered with a faint luster, and the stone-built madman was inlaid with colorful glass. Blue and white light shone on the glass, creating mottled light and shadow.

But no one passed by.

Apart from the singing coming from the center of town, all was quiet. There was no sign of life.

Perhaps it was some kind of celebration or banquet that brought the town's residents together.

That's what everyone guessed.

"What nonsense are you talking about? Wizards don't have any faith." Winston immediately rejected the idea. Wizards themselves possess supernatural powers, so the magical world is far more secular than the Muggle world.

But it's not true to say that he has absolutely no faith.

Many wizards worship Merlin.

However, this kind of faith is more of a respect for legends, after all, Merlin wouldn't ask them for any donations.

"Yes, there are," Ms. Zhang said. "It's not like talking about faith always involves gods."

She solemnly stated, "Following in the footsteps of ancient sages is also a form of faith."

"Yes." Mr. Basil nodded. In the Federation, faith in Merlin was a common practice, and it was also a way of following the ancient sages.

However—not just him, but everyone else noticed that the doors of each house in the rooms on both sides were covered with some kind of creepy artwork.

It was exactly like the abstract paintings they saw on stones in the fields.

Night—blue light—creepy evil spirits.

An unsettling sense of dread swept over everyone present, causing them to tense up.

There's no need to discuss matters of faith anymore, because this town exudes an eerie aura from beginning to end, defying the judgment of ordinary people.

The town is not large.

The group walked along the main road, passed through a central garden square, and turned a block before arriving at a building full of Gothic style.

It looks like a Muggle church.

Just then, the wizards were startled. They saw a group of people dressed in black robes, completely covered up, carrying something out of the back gate of the town.

The other party had obviously spotted them as well.

The leader of the black-robed men glanced at them, his gaze lingering for about three or four seconds before looking away.

Then, the men in black robes continued their work as if nothing had happened, carrying something away quickly and disappearing into the silent night in no time.

The wizards became alert, but none of them dared to step forward rashly.

This town is very strange, and it would be unwise to clash with its residents now that everything is still unknown. Caution—this is a superior quality that these elders of the Federation possess compared to the lesser wizards.

After all, times have changed. In this increasingly unpredictable world, it's hard to have much experience to share. The number of new enemies that have emerged in just a few years is more than many people have seen in a lifetime, and they come in a wide variety of forms.

So it is not that they are cautious—but rather that they are careless—that they have already covered themselves with the blanket of the merciful earth.

They looked away and fell silent.

Then, each gripping their wands tightly, they slowly walked up the steps and pushed open the doors of the church-like building.

You can see the whole church from one end to the other.

The walls were covered in tar from burning oil lamps, a gruesome black stain that made the stained glass blurry. Some pieces were even broken and boarded up, a long, irregular crack peeking through which the eerie night outside could be seen.

At this moment, about a hundred men and women dressed in various styles were sitting on rows of benches in the room.

Their eyes were glazed over as they both looked toward the main guest seat.

There—a middle-aged man in a suit and tie was holding a thick, yellowed booklet and leading the believers in singing hymns loudly.

The language he uttered was none of the languages ​​known to the four people present.

That appears to be a very ancient human language, perhaps even dating back thousands of years.

Inside the room, the singing continued.

Neither the believers nor the bishop paid any attention to the four who had suddenly barged in; they preferred singing to asking about their origins.

The singing continued for quite a while before slowly stopping.

The bishop-like man waved his hand, signaling everyone to wait a moment.

Then, with a calm expression, he crossed his hands and began to pray.

The believers all made the same gestures, and spoke in an incomprehensible language.

It lasts longer than the song itself.

"How mystical," Miss Zhang muttered. She hated the unknown and found the incomprehensible sounds around her very hypnotic.

According to the correct time, it should be the middle of the night now, a time for sleeping.

As her thoughts gradually cleared, a silver-haired figure gently drifted past the window.

Through the irregular joints of the wooden planks and the exposed seams, Zhang Xiaolin could see clearly.

Her gaze immediately shifted to the next window, which was a stained glass window.

It was gray and dull, unlike its original vibrant colors.

I waited, but after a long time, no one passed by the window.

There wasn't even a change in light and shadow.

She frowned.

But they didn't make a fuss about it.

A few minutes later, the prayer ended.

The townspeople stood up and dispersed in twos and threes.

Finally—the bishop's attention fell on them.

"Welcome," he said in fluent English, even with a slight British accent. "Welcome, dead souls. Well—it's been a long time since—a valuable soul has come here."

"Undead?" Sirius asked in a low, furrowed brow. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter," the bishop, a rather kind-looking man in a linen robe, said amiably. "Time will tell."

"Where is this place?" Sirius asked again.

"Everything in the world has a name, but perhaps only the wind knows its true name, and I—we call this land Precia," the man said gently. "Long ago, the world was in perfect balance. The world was a giant tree of life, every branch, every leaf, every flower carefully arranged so that the sun shone brightly and the rain fell evenly. People, animals, and spirits all lived in peace and tranquility."

Suddenly one day, an inexplicable external force disrupted the balance of the world, causing turmoil in the spiritual realm. This manifested as cruelty and slaughter in humanity. Presia means "haven of souls," a temporary abode for the dead. When they let go of their obsessions and cleanse themselves of cruelty, they can embark on an even greater adventure.

Miss Zhang frowned, her mind filled with confusion. The man's words were completely incomprehensible to her.

She glanced at Mr. Basil, who looked equally bewildered. Clearly, he felt the same way she did.

Sirius then took on the task of talking to him.

Zhang Xiaolin left the church with Mr. Basil and went to the window where she had seen the silver-haired figure pass by earlier. The window was closed, quiet, and there was nothing unusual.

Ms. Zhang carefully observed the window and her surroundings, trying to find some clues. However, apart from some dust and signs of age on the window, she found nothing. She couldn't help but feel disappointed and began to wonder if she had seen things wrong.

Then she thought of the back door of the church.

So she left the window and went to the back door of the church. The back door led to a winding path that stretched all the way to the mountains outside the town.

Ms. Zhang stood by the back door, peering at the mountains through the gap between the two rows of buildings. However, apart from the lush trees and the rolling hills, she did not see anyone.

"Strange—" Zhang Xiaolin frowned, then went back to the church.

Sirius was still talking to that person in front of the door.

However, the other party kept circling around the issue, but the main point was just one sentence: you'll understand on your own in a while.

Clearly, Sirius had lost his already dwindling patience.

After the other person continued to beat around the bush, saying that the way to leave this place was in one's heart, he directly took out his wand and chanted the Soul Reaper's Charm on the man.

"It should have been like this a long time ago," Zhang Xiaolin complained.

Dumbledore's men! They're just too upright—she couldn't help but glance at Basil beside her.

The incident in South America escalated because he forbade her to use the Mind Control Spell. If she had pried open his mind to find out the truth from the beginning, none of the subsequent events would have happened.

Sirius Black was very skilled at using spells.

It looks like it's been used quite a bit lately.

However, a moment later, his expression became even more unpleasant.

As his left hand fell, the bishop smiled and walked away.

He was left standing alone in front of the church, silent.

"What's wrong?" Victor stepped forward and asked.

Of the three present, Zhang Xiaolin had no interaction with the Dog Godfather, and Basil rarely participated due to their different duties. However, he—because the Rozier Magical Disability Hospital was located in Paris, as the French Ministry of Magic's liaison to the Federation, frequently came into contact with Sirius.

Sirius seemed somewhat dejected when Winston pressed him for answers, but remained silent.

After a long while, he made a move, pressing his wand against his temple and then drawing out a silver streak.

The silk threads drifted down, intertwined, and Winston immediately took a glass bottle from his pocket to catch them.

"See for yourself," he said.

He then turned and left, seemingly unconcerned about the strangeness and danger in the town.

The three looked at each other, their faces full of confusion.

Victor then pulled a mirror out of his pocket.

This meditation mirror functions exactly like any other. Although he wasn't as exceptionally gifted in alchemy as Victor, as Rosier's student, his achievements far surpassed those of ordinary people. His pockets were filled with all sorts of alchemical magical tools, most of which were his own inventions, while others were Rosier's creations.

He poured the memories from the bottle into the mirror, and soon the previously blurry and murky mirror immediately showed a human figure.

A man appeared in the scene; clearly, he was the bishop from earlier.

The scene then began to change rapidly. Sirius couldn't possibly have viewed a person's entire life in such a short time. First, it's unlikely from a magical standpoint, as no one could cast a spell for that long. Second, being subjected to Legilimency is a very uncomfortable experience; the brain feels a strong sense of foreign objects entering it. Even someone like Snape, who was subjected to Legilimency, would find it unpleasant. If it were Voldemort, it would be like having a dull knife scraping his brain.

No one can endure such pain, which invades their brains for an extended period, and the only outcome is madness or death.

Therefore, the image in the mirror flickers very quickly.

The bishop's life, from his childhood to his youth, flashed by in a few fragments, mainly focusing on his memories after entering this place.

Time passed second by second, and soon the surface of the meditation mirror, which had been as smooth as water, turned murky again.

Having obtained all the intelligence, they all remained silent.

"Impossible—" Basil said, "We came here through Shangri-La."

"We are different from the island's inhabitants," Winston added.

One's own memory cannot deceive oneself, so the only ones who can be deceived are others.

The three then exchanged a glance, turned around, and rushed into the town.

The residents who had just returned home, with their doors still open, were treated roughly.

The three entered the house as if they wanted to buy something for free, but their purpose was not goods or money, but people.

One after another, milky-white magical lights belonging to the Divine Seduction Mantra resounded.

In just over an hour, the three men searched the minds of more than fifty residents throughout the town.

It's not that they don't want to continue, but they have too many memories of other people in their heads, which is dangerous and can cause them to lose their own consciousness.

All the memories came together.

If there are no errors.

So it seems on the surface that they are dead.

Outside the town, the three sat on the edge of a field looking at the sea. Sirius had already met up with the others. He, too, did not believe the bishop's one-sided story and did what the three had just done.

The conclusion reached was the same.

Clearly, no one wanted to accept this outcome, so they began rummaging through the town, searching for what they believed to be the secrets that should exist.

According to the townspeople's memories, they were just ordinary people, at least for now, and posed no threat to the wizard.

The silent trio also joined the operation, but her direction was towards the distant mountains.

She still vividly remembers that scene in front of the church.

The three split up and several hours passed in a flash.

The exploration in the high mountains yielded no results.

In the darkness of the night, she noticed nothing unusual. The mountain was still the same mountain, with no other distinguishing features except for the abundance of magic.

Somewhat disheartened, she returned to the meeting place she had arranged with Basil and Winston: the town church.

Waiting for the next round.

From afar, Zhang Xiaolin saw the oil lamps burning in the church.

She thought Winston or Basil had returned.

A few hours earlier, Zhang Xiaolin had caught a glimpse of the silver-haired woman through the window and, seemingly out of nowhere, peered into the church through the gaps in the wooden planks.

But then, a resident of the town was seen holding a knife and gently cutting open his left arm.

He let the blood drip into the jar in front of him.

(End of this chapter)