This was territory Vincent knew almost nothing about. "What do you mean?"
Bernadette explained: "Beneath the city of Trier lies what people refer to as 'Fourth Epoch Trier' — the former capital of the Tudor dynasty, which played an extraordinarily important role during that period. For many years, people have attempted to uncover its secrets, my father among them. To this day, however, very little is publicly known. Of course, that applies only to what's openly available — the Church may hold hidden knowledge of its own."
"And Stephen's family tomb happens to be connected to Emperor Tudor."
"Right." Vincent frowned. "But given what you're describing — something of this magnitude — why send two mid-Sequence operatives to handle it? Louis Ell doesn't strike me as a demigod."
"Don't forget: this is Backlund. The Church of the Evernight Goddess's territory. Mid-Sequence operatives with some capacity for self-preservation can move around with far less suspicion. A saint or angel drawing attention would defeat the purpose."
She continued: "Take Vivian, for example — she's a Sequence 7 Warlock. Just wait a little longer. If the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery went to all this trouble, this thread isn't going to end quietly."
Vincent nodded. "Right. Also — the Tarot Club meeting is later today. Are you still planning to offer the Fool your father's diary?"
"Yes, I've already prepared a page. I'll need you to memorise it quickly."
"Any questions to ask this time?"
"Ask what 'homeland' means to Him — just those two characters."
Because of the soul exchange, this question — which should have appeared only in the late stages of the original story — was about to be placed before Klein far earlier than intended.
"Got it."
He rubbed his chin and murmured: "Do you think our current situation might be a sort of... punishment for lying to the Fool back then?"
Vincent said it off-handedly, but the moment the words left him, he felt a chill. There was a phrase for that — a prophecy that fulfils itself.
Bernadette considered it. "What I'm actually more curious about now is whether the Fool could pull my soul into His divine domain."
"Hmm?"
The world of Harry Potter.
Three days went by in a flash.
Aside from attending her classes, Bernadette refused every social engagement, dedicating all her free time to studying Chinese and Ancient Runes. In between, she made a trip to Diagon Alley to purchase materials for rune-carving, then slipped through the Leaky Cauldron into the streets of London, where she found a bookshop and bought several books in Chinese and a handful of texts about China.
If Father had truly come from that country, she might as well learn something about it in advance.
With this degree of focused concentration, her progress was noticeably faster than before. By the time of the next exchange she ought to be able to read most of his diary.
On the Ancient Runes side, she had entered the practical phase: actually attempting to carve them. The first rune she chose to engrave was the letter representing light and flame — a symbol that also conveyed strength, healing, and sanctity.
To use fire or light with any precision, she would need to pair it with other runes — that was a problem for the next stage of study.
The carving blade crept along the wooden plank in tiny, careful strokes. Every movement required controlled infusion of magical power, pouring it rhythmically into the carved lines so the text absorbed it and came alive with magic.
This was her tenth failed attempt of the day. Perhaps because the body wasn't originally hers, her control of magical power couldn't quite achieve the precision she needed.
Hiss.
The plank caught and burned to ash. Another failure.
Bernadette calmly brushed the ash from her fingertips, set the carving knife down, and closed her eyes to rest, rubbing her temples.
Twelve minutes later she picked up the knife again and continued. When thirsty she cracked open a cola; when hungry she had a house-elf bring something. Time dissolved. Day became night, night circled back to morning, and the moon had risen in the east and sunk in the west by the time Bernadette completed the final stroke of her first Ancient Rune. With a flash of gold-red light, she had done it.
She didn't pause. Riding that momentum, she immediately moved on to the second stage: carving without a knife, without a plank — purely in the open air.
The first three attempts failed quickly.
On the fourth, Bernadette abruptly abandoned her cautious pace and accelerated instead. All at once, she completed the rune in a single swift motion.
Almost instantly she felt the magic within her stir like a waking current. She held out her palm, replayed the aerial carving in her mind — and ten seconds later, a warm flame rose from the centre of her palm.
"Success."
It was only the first rune. But once you understand the key, all the rest are only a matter of time. The door of magic was about to open fully for her.
"Hmm?"
Just as she was about to attempt the second rune, she noticed something on the parchment — a small point of white light. She hesitated a moment, then pressed her fingertip gently against it.
In an instant, the white point expanded into a beam that shot from the window, arcing gracefully across the air before plunging toward the ground and vanishing.
"What was that point of light? Why does it feel as though it's leading me somewhere? Is it something the Professor of Ancient Runes left deliberately?"
Could there be something sinister in this?
She made her decision quickly: "If there's a question, go and ask it directly."
Bernadette rolled up the parchment, stepped out of the office — and found Draco Malfoy walking toward her.
"Professor, my father says... he can meet with you."
"Oh." She gave a mild nod. "Is that all?"
"Yes."
Strange. You were the one who asked me to arrange this meeting with Father. Why are you suddenly acting as though you couldn't care less?
Malfoy darted off to a secluded corner and pulled out his two-way mirror: "Father — done. He agreed."
In the mirror, Lucius Malfoy asked: "Where are you meeting?"
"Ah. He didn't say."
"And when exactly?"
"...He didn't say that either."
Lucius frowned. "Draco — what exactly do you mean you're done?"
"But you only told me to let him know you wanted to meet."
"Hmm?"
"I — I'll go ask again."
He was about to hang up when something came to him. "Oh, Father — I heard something these past few days."
"What?"
"It's just... apparently Harry Potter is Professor Snape's godson."
Lucius: "???"
What manner of nonsense is this?
He had graduated the year after Snape had started at Hogwarts, but as a fellow Death Eater he knew enough about the long, ugly history between Snape and Harry Potter's parents.
Harry's mother had been Snape's childhood sweetheart. Harry's father had been Snape's rival, enemy, and most despised person alive.
And now you're telling me Harry Potter is Snape's godson? Who exactly is the unhinged one here?
"Where did you hear this?"
"...Goyle overheard it."
"Noted. Now — go and confirm the meeting arrangements."
"Yes!"
Malfoy hurried off to catch up to the professor — turned a corner, walked straight into someone.
"In quite the rush, aren't we, Mr Malfoy?"
The voice arrived before the smell: a thick, overwhelming scent of garlic. Professor Quirrell, Defence Against the Dark Arts, smiling pleasantly at him. Then, with one easy gesture, he plucked the two-way mirror from Malfoy's hand.
"Oh, a two-way mirror."
Quirrell smiled. "Did your father never warn you? At Hogwarts it's best not to use this sort of alchemical device."
"Why not?"
"Because Hogwarts is in the business of forming independent witches and wizards — not children who run crying to their parents the moment anything happens."
He turned and walked away briskly. "I'll hang on to this for now. If you want it back, have your father come and ask me for it."
"Oh no."
Malfoy's face fell. "Father's going to think I'm ignoring him on purpose."
He glared bitterly at Quirrell's retreating back, a sudden, puzzling thought crossing his mind: Why does he seem somehow different from usual?
Meanwhile, Bernadette arrived at Professor Bathsheda Babbling's office for the second time.
The woman who answered the door — the "Sleeping Beauty" — showed mild surprise at the sight of her. "Was there some difficulty in the Ancient Runes work?"
"No." Bernadette shook her head. "I've spent the last couple of weeks studying the runes on the parchment. I only attempted to carve them for the first time today."
"How did it go?"
"Very difficult."
"Ha, of course. It took me—"
Before she could finish, a warm flame had risen from Bernadette's palm.
Babbling said the second half of her sentence: "—only half an hour."
Bernadette looked at her with perfectly composed composure. "Then you're very impressive."
"..."
To be continued…
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