"..."
Babbling made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh, unable to decide whether she was being complimented or gently mocked.
"Don't just stand there in the doorway — come in. I got hold of some Chinese tea last week. Apparently it's called Da Hong Pao from Wuyi Mountain — only a handful of trees in all the world, and once upon a time only an emperor could drink it."
With a wave of her hand, a cup of richly fragrant tea floated over to Bernadette. She took a sip. "What's it like now?"
"Let's change the subject."
Babbling crossed her legs and settled into her chair. "Since you've already mastered your first rune, the rest really is just a matter of time. You didn't come all this way to tell me that, so what is it?"
Bernadette produced the parchment. "After I had command of my first rune, I noticed a small white point of light appear on the parchment. When I touched it, it turned into a beam and shot out through the window, arcing downward as if pointing somewhere. It felt like a trail — something guiding me toward a specific place."
Babbling's cup tilted in her hand. Her expression changed entirely. "Are you certain?"
"Of course."
"No — what I mean is: are you certain it was only after mastering the first rune that you could see it? You couldn't see it before?"
"Absolutely certain."
Bernadette nodded. "So — was this something the Professor designed deliberately?"
"..."
She set the cup down and massaged her temple. "Give me a moment to collect my thoughts."
"You entered Hogwarts at age eleven normally, correct?"
"Correct."
"And you're not a Squib — you can learn magic normally."
"Yes."
Babbling ran a hand through her hair, thoroughly baffled. "Then how on earth have you suddenly developed an Ancient Magic affinity?"
"Ancient Magic?"
Bernadette's mind jumped back to their last conversation. "You mean... that pale blue point of light is connected to Ancient Magic?"
"To put it precisely — it is the mark of Ancient Magic. Only those with an Ancient Magic affinity can see and sense its presence."
"So the Professor before me genuinely has Ancient Magic?"
"That's not the point!"
Babbling waved impatiently and stood up. "The point is that you've just broken the rules."
The rules she referred to, of course, were the prerequisite: you had to have been a Squib or a Muggle before the age of fifteen to awaken Ancient Magic.
Bernadette's thoughts moved quickly: Perhaps it's precisely because I've been exchanging souls with that man that I've technically become a "Squib" of sorts — and so accidentally fulfilled the conditions.
So my awakening of Ancient Magic doesn't actually break the rules. It follows them exactly.
"Come on! I'll take you somewhere."
She seized Bernadette's wrist.
"Where?"
"Where the beam of white light was pointing."
Hogwarts Castle had been founded in the year 990, established by four great founders, in the midst of valleys and mountains, beside a dark lake, with the Forbidden Forest at its edge. It was designed and built to provide young witches and wizards a safe and free place to learn magic.
A thousand years of unbroken tradition.
And when the castle was built, each of the four founders had hidden their own private "chambers" in various parts of the structure — one of which lay deep underground.
Babbling led Bernadette through a hidden mechanism into the underground passage, walking a long corridor until they came to a solid wall. From a distance, Bernadette could see a faint wisp of white light glowing from the cracks in the stone.
"Do you see the trace of Ancient Magic on the wall?"
"Trace?"
Bernadette stepped closer — and the thick stone wall before her seemed to transform into an enormous mirror. Or perhaps "mirror" was inexact, because in it she saw not only her own reflection and Babbling's, but a vast room beyond.
"I see a mirror. And a room inside it."
"You can actually see it—"
It was only now that Babbling was truly convinced — Vincent genuinely had the Ancient Magic affinity. Even with the proof standing before her, she found it difficult to believe.
"Touch it."
Bernadette didn't hesitate. She reached out and placed her hand against the "mist" on the surface of the mirror.
The world changed.
One moment they were still standing before the wall. The next, they turned around — and found themselves inside a vast, dim room. The very room she had seen in the mirror.
"Where is this?"
Bernadette walked forward a few steps. Beyond ancient stone railings lay an expanse of floor smooth as still water. On the opposite wall hung four enormous portraits — all of them empty.
Babbling stepped forward and looked upward. "Four Professors — are you here?"
A moment later, in the portrait farthest to the right, an old man with a white beard and a pointed hat shuffled into the frame, yawning. His eyes went wide when he saw them. "Ah, Olivia, you've come. It must be nearly ten years since your last visit."
He reached out and knocked on the adjacent portrait. "Olivia's here—"
One by one, three more figures appeared in the other frames. The moment they caught sight of Babbling, their faces lit up with wide, warm smiles.
"Olivia — welcome back."
"How have you been all these years?"
"What's the world like out there now?"
Bernadette had been at Hogwarts for several weeks and was perfectly familiar with the concept of Enchanted Portraits — yet every time she saw them, she still felt the pull of wonder. Magic truly was something extraordinary.
In a sense, this was a kind of immortality, wasn't it?
"Ahem."
Babbling cleared her throat. "I haven't gone by Olivia for a long time now. My name is Bathsheda Babbling — Ancient Runes Professor at Hogwarts."
Her expression then grew serious. She looked at Bernadette. "He is the second person I've encountered in my lifetime with an Ancient Magic affinity."
"Oh, how splendid."
The only woman among the four portraits smiled warmly. "I suppose you no longer need to worry that the Ancient Magic lineage will end with you."
"Indeed — wonderful news, haha!"
Babbling frowned. "Wait, you're all missing the gravity of the situation."
"He is a wizard who entered Hogwarts normally at age eleven, studied magic normally — and until today, had no Ancient Magic affinity whatsoever. He couldn't see it. Couldn't feel it."
All four portraits stopped short. The original white-haired old man said, astonished: "You mean he's broken the prerequisite for studying Ancient Magic?"
Facing the gazes from all four frames, Bernadette's expression remained serene. "Professor Babbling — before you go further, could you explain what's happening? Who are these four? And... who exactly are you?"
Babbling laughed. "These four were active hundreds of years ago as Hogwarts Professors. Allow me to introduce them: Professor Percival Rackham, Professor Charles Rookwood, Professor Niamh Fitzgerald, and Professor San Bakar."
"Together they have guarded the secret of Ancient Magic, and have waited here all this time for a new inheritor of Ancient Magic to appear."
Her voice turned earnest. "The last inheritor was me — and one other. And you are the new inheritor who has appeared after all these years."
Bernadette thought for a moment and asked: "You mentioned before that Ancient Magic isn't the magic ancient wizards practised using runes — so what exactly is it?"
"Ancient Magic is neither the magic from ancient wizards' mastery of runes, nor is it the traditional spellcasting of the modern era. It is a primal system of force, intimately connected to the very source of the magical world — something that transcends the rules of ordinary magic."
"In Professor Rackham's words, it is the origin of all magic. It exists within nature and within life. It is present around us every moment of every day. Those without an Ancient Magic affinity cannot merely use it — they cannot even sense it."
"However, once someone has command of Ancient Magic and begins to cast with it, it manifests in a concrete form. Like so—"
Babbling spread her hand. Blue-white lightning began to swirl in her palm, and with it came a pulse of energy that spread outward and made the air shiver. Then she swept her arm outward, and a dense mass of blue-violet energy gathered in a sphere, warping the space around it.
"These are my two most-used forms. Quick, direct, efficient — honestly miles better than any of the three Unforgivable Curses. I once, in a single day— ahem. Best not to dwell on old deeds."
To be continued…
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