A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 170 Legilimency

Since Peter Pettigrew was petrified, no further attacks have occurred at the school. As the date of the dueling tournament draws ever closer, people's emotions are running high.

Ms. Pomfrey reported with delight that the mandrakes had become irritable and taciturn. They were rapidly shedding their juvenile stage, and once their pimples healed, they could be transplanted again, soon becoming mature enough to be cut and killed.

She also reported on the frequent occurrences of emotional infections on campus. Overall, aside from the investigation finding that this strange illness was confined to Hogwarts and did not spread to the outside world, and that it was indeed not very harmful to people, there was little progress in the investigation into its cause and solution.

"It must have a source, and it's hidden right here in the school," Ms. Pomfrey said. "This is clearly not the new wizarding disease we initially suspected, but rather a phenomenon caused by some kind of magic or magical artifact. Once we find the source, we can quickly resolve this symptom..."

Mr. Filch suspected that a student had brought the source into Hogwarts, and, deeply abhorring this symptom, he began to use every means to search for related contraband from the student.

Every day, as students went to and from class, they could see Filch standing in the hallway, his bulging eyes fixed on them, scanning them with a strange testing device. Once the device beeped, he would thoroughly examine that person from head to toe.

His Maine Coon, Lady Loris, also kept a close watch on everyone as if they were thieves, only haughtily raising her head when she saw Owen, allowing him to pet her head, and then rummaging through his pockets for some novel and delicious treats. Then she would skillfully grab the treats and run off, chased by the disgruntled Melete through several corridors.

Although Mr. Filch and Ms. Pomfrey were busy with this, the students were far from enthusiastic about solving the problem of contagious emotions. Many saw it as a very amusing experience, and without this problem, where would they find a convenient excuse to skip classes they disliked, to legally avoid punishment for breaking school rules, and to slack off during detention?

Life at Hogwarts remained relatively peaceful, with nothing particularly unusual even on Valentine's Day, which surprised the teachers and students.

In the six months since Lockhart entered the school, awkward situations have invariably arisen on every holiday, big or small, because Lockhart loves to cause trouble on those days. But this Valentine's Day, he was sitting obediently in the Great Hall, leading many anxious students to suspect that he had just broken up with his girlfriend. Well, after all, his reputation in the wizarding world is now somewhat infamous.

Although Lockhart has become less outrageous, the principal has started to get keen on stirring up trouble off campus.

For decades, Dumbledore has given everyone the impression of being unassuming and indifferent to fame and fortune. Although he serves as the president of the International Federation of Wizards, he is essentially a figurehead.

He consistently avoided wielding power, even relinquishing most of it to others, content to be a figurehead chairman. Although he would attend some important meetings, he rarely expressed his opinions, spending most of his time playing the role of a smiling mascot.

However, since Christmas of that year, Dumbledore has become increasingly active on the international political stage, gradually consolidating considerable power and pushing for the drafting and repeal of several bills. He has recently become a regular contributor to the Daily Prophet, keeping himself extremely busy, but he still has a long way to go if he wants to fully reclaim his power.

Owen has recently become engrossed in researching the advancement of magic in the soul realm, but aside from dying several times in the Wallfacer's Gauntlet, he hasn't made much progress overall. This direction is far more difficult than he imagined; he's practically building from scratch, overcoming one obstacle after another. His research has reached a stalemate, and he can only continue refining his magical fusion experiments.

When Owen visited the headmaster's office again to ask questions, he focused on some issues he had encountered while researching magical fusion experiments. Dumbledore was very interested and readily answered all his questions.

Before leaving, Owen asked his last question of the day: "Mr. Dumbledore, if I wanted to send an anonymous letter to...?" He paused before continuing, "What should I be careful about when sending a wizard like yourself?"

Dumbledore stared at Owen with his sharp, menacing eyes for a moment, then clasped his hands on the table, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's a very interesting question. For a wizard like me, anonymity doesn't really make much difference."

"Oh?" Owen adopted a willingness to hear more. He had been pondering how to accomplish this for a long time. Although he already had a plan in mind, he still wanted to hear the opinions of professionals, since he was currently finding it difficult to fully understand the methods of these magic masters.

Dumbledore gestured to a stack of parchment on the table. Owen understood, took one, picked up the quill pen beside him, and deliberately wrote "Goodnight" in crooked handwriting. Then he gently pushed the parchment towards Dumbledore.

Dumbledore drew his unusually shaped Elder Wand, tapped it lightly on the paper, and said unhurriedly, "If I want to find the person who sent me this letter, there are many ways. The simplest, ah, of course, is the Tracking Charm."

He raised the tip of his wand, and the parchment floated up lightly, drifting straight toward Owen.

"With just a simple spell, a letter can fly back to the sender. If that wizard is skilled enough..." Dumbledore pressed the parchment back onto the table, then lightly waved his wand at it, a faint smile playing on his lips. "To catch you would only take a blink of an eye..."

With a whoosh, the parchment was engulfed by a burst of silver-blue flame and disappeared along with it. Immediately afterward, the same flame suddenly rose in front of Owen, and the parchment floated down unharmed before his eyes.

"Look, I can bring it back to you instantly. It will provide me with coordinates, and I might be the one teleported there next." Dumbledore withdrew his wand, and the parchment flew back to him like a light bird.

"Of course, this isn't difficult to crack; you just need to cast an anti-tracking spell on the letter," he calmly offered the solution. "Or, the simplest solution is to destroy your letter in time; you just need to cast a self-destruct spell on the letter beforehand."

Irving nodded thoughtfully. He had indeed considered this point long ago, but the sudden transmission of the parchment still made him somewhat uneasy.

"However, that's only the easiest part to solve." Dumbledore looked down and waved his wand on the parchment.

shimmering silver marks appeared on the paper, varying in depth and crisscrossing haphazardly across the pages. An invisible ripple rose from the letter, subtly distorting the air above. Each letter of the crookedly written "Goodnight" glowed with a faint golden light, as if it had been scorched.

As Dumbledore waved his wand, the bright silver marks, the invisible aura, and the golden light on the writing flew out of the letter like moths, gathering in mid-air to vaguely form a semi-transparent figure the size of a head that was constantly changing.

Dumbledore focused intently on poking the figure a few times with his wand. The figure seemed to deflate, shrinking further, but its shape gradually solidified. Though still blurry, it bore a striking resemblance to Owen's silhouette!

He surveyed the hazy figure with indifference and said slowly, "Even if I can't directly track you down, the traces left on the letter, the scent you left behind, and the effort you put into writing it will all point to your identity."

"Although these traces will gradually disappear over time, some will always remain." Dumbledore waved away the shadow in front of him. "The only slightly troublesome part is eliminating interference from other traces, but combined with the lingering scent on the letter and the writer's handwriting, the result should be basically correct."

"Of course, things won't actually go that smoothly." Dumbledore gave a fleeting smile, waving his hand to disperse the figure before him. "This time, I was able to pinpoint your identity mainly because you were right in front of me, and I was quite certain that this piece of paper was given to me by you. Normally, the outline I would get would be quite blurry and uncertain. However... without a doubt, I will remember your presence through it, and as long as you appear beside me, I will definitely recognize you."

Owen smiled and nodded, unsurprised, and already having a way to deal with it. He drew his wand, lightly tapped it on the parchment, and uttered "Vanishing Without a Trace," then continued with several complex spells. His dark eyes were fixed intently on the other man's blue eyes behind his half-moon glasses: "How about this?"

"Once I erase all traces and scents from the letter and disguise my handwriting, how else can you find me?" he said slowly.

In fact, Owen has always paid great attention to this aspect, and he always makes sure to conceal his presence and clean up any traces when he does things secretly, which is why he has never given Dumbledore and Voldemort any leverage.

"A clever response." Dumbledore nodded without changing his expression. "This way, I can't directly pinpoint you. Although nothing in this world is without flaws, we can find some clues by examining the way you delivered the letter—whether you slipped it to me secretly or used an owl. But it's obvious that your method succeeded, and this anonymous letter lived up to its name."

"So, what if I send you anonymous letters multiple times?" Owen's expression remained unsettled.

"In that case..." Dumbledore looked at him for a moment, then said with a smile, "How long it will take to find you depends only on how determined I am and how much effort I am willing to put into it."

"What if, on top of that, I also want to receive a reply from you?" Irving pressed on.

Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "You should know, I'm not so bad as to be unable to locate the person who receives my letter. I only need to recite a little spell on the letter, and no matter how many tricks you try or how many detours you take, I can still find you by following the clues."

"That's exactly the question I wanted to ask, and it's also the subject I'm currently researching." Irving tilted his head, looking at him. Didn't you say you'd answer any questions I have about my studies? Any!

"You really know how to give me a tough problem." Dumbledore twirled his long white beard and pondered for a moment before slowly saying, "It's not that there's no way."

"Do you know what's the easiest thing to clean up all traces of?" he asked himself, answering his own question. "Flame."

He raised his hand, and a ball of silver-blue flame appeared on the table in front of him. The flame rose silently, radiating a scorching heat, while the table remained completely undamaged.

"My flames can deliver my messages to anyone, though there are distance limitations. So all I need to do is find a way to build a passage with flames..." He elegantly waved his wand, and a similar flame appeared in front of Owen. He tossed the parchment on the table into the flames in front of him, and in the blink of an eye, the parchment emerged from the flames in front of Owen.

"This will allow you to send and receive messages," Dumbledore said. "In the process, the flames will help burn away any spells cast on the letter and prevent the recipient from tracking you."

"How can we ensure that the flames don't burn the letter along with it?" Owen asked thoughtfully.

"Heh..." Dumbledore chuckled. "For a skilled wizard, his flames will only burn what he wants to destroy." He glanced at Owen and briefly explained the relevant magical principles, but did not teach him specific methods or spells, clearly leaving him to study them on his own.

"How can I give the flames teleportation capabilities?" Owen continued to ask.

"Go and look up the books on Apparition, Floo Network, or Portkeys yourself," Dumbledore said impatiently.

"Well then, Mr. Dumbledore, may I borrow a light from you?" Owen blinked his innocent eyes, looked at him earnestly, and then looked at the silver-blue flame in front of him.

"This is my unique magic, and to some extent it represents my identity." Dumbledore looked at him with a half-smile and gestured for him to get lost.

"Ahem, good night, sir."

After leaving the principal's office, Irving tossed a gold coin up and down, pondering the previous conversation, and slowly returned to the common room.

"Owen, are you going to practice your spells?" Harry leaned closer, took a deep breath, and stared at him nervously.

"Why aren't you going tonight? Is there something wrong?" Owen was still lost in thought, looking at him with somewhat unfocused eyes.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, then hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes with a resolute air: "I...I've made up my mind. I beg you to help me practice Occlumency!"

He really didn't have any talent for Occlumency. They started learning at the same time, and everyone else had made some progress, while he was stuck in the same place, making no progress at all. He was going all in; it was just Legilimency, right? Anyway, he didn't have any secrets he needed to hide from Owen… probably not, right?

"I'm quite surprised you made this decision." Owen looked at him quietly, his heart softening. Not everyone has the courage to open their heart to others, nor does everyone have the right to have others open their hearts to them.

"It's all because of you," Harry said, his face flushed and his expression resentful. "You said I had to learn Occlumency to investigate with you... I don't believe you don't know anything besides the location of the Chamber of Secrets, but are you really planning to exclude me?"

Owen blinked innocently. "No, how could I exclude you? The final performance can't go on without you… He'd already assigned Harry a role, he just hadn't had a chance to tell him yet."

"Okay, tomorrow afternoon, we'll find a classroom," he said with a kind smile, as if looking at a little white rabbit that had fallen into a trap.

……

In a secluded classroom, two young wizards faced each other. Owen played with his wand with a broad smile, while Harry's legs trembled uncontrollably.

"Ready?" Owen grinned, raising his wand. "I'm going to enter your mind. And you must concentrate on fighting me and stopping my invasion."

Harry was starting to regret his decision. He had a feeling that Owen was waiting to see him make a fool of himself, and he even had evidence – Owen was laughing like a madman!

"If you regret it, you don't have to force yourself," Owen said nonchalantly, seeing through his thoughts. "I don't necessarily have to practice Legilimency on you; there are plenty of other ways to practice." He had originally planned to capture a dark wizard from Knockturn Alley to practice on during the summer, but starting early now was a good idea.

"No, I'm ready." Harry resignedly closed his eyes. He knew that if he wanted to learn Occlumency, this was probably the only way. He might as well ask Owen instead of anyone else.

"This is a clash of minds, so put down your wand, Harry." Owen nodded, his tone calm. "You need to restrain yourself, clear your mind, cast aside all emotions, and concentrate on fighting me. Don't worry, I'm just a beginner in Legilimency; my skill is not high, and your resistance will be easy..."

"Now, prepare... Legilimency!" Owen waved his wand.

He felt his gaze follow the narrow passage into another place, where a series of colorful images flashed by chaotically, like scattered film reels, discontinuous memories scattered like kaleidoscope fragments, waiting for his interpretation.

For most wizards, using the Legilimency spell only allows them to see scattered fragments of thought. People need to find the useful parts among these fragments and then connect them one by one in order to analyze the information they want.

Only masters of Legilimency can directly access memories, but even they need to recite "Legilimency" face-to-face to achieve this. This method of silently observing someone's thoughts can only probe their current thoughts; it's difficult to see the memories within their mind.

These are the conclusions Irving reached after in-depth research into the magic of Legilimency.

What he saw now was just a jumble of fragments, like scattered photographs, with all sorts of completely different scenes flashing by in a disjointed way.

He saw Harry's aunt and uncle's house, Dudley chasing him with a group of children, the teacher giving a lesson at the Muggle elementary school, a cramped storage room, and a dazzling green light...

A faint resistance seemed to be trying to stop him from peeking any further, blurring the fragments of memory. Upon seeing the blinding green light, a tremendous repulsive force pushed Owen away, and his consciousness returned to his body.

Seeing Harry's panting and distressed state, Owen said softly, "You kicked me out, that's good. But you didn't clear your mind..."

As night fell, the two walked out of the classroom together. Owen looked somewhat satisfied, while Harry slumped down like a wilted eggplant.

"Keep going tomorrow, and keep it up," Irving encouraged.

(End of this chapter)