Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 430, page 429: Was Ian tricked?
The nature of this battle is subtly changing under Ian's conscious guidance.

What began as a simple magical confrontation gradually evolved into a difficult dialogue with three corrupted, tormented, and transformed "Hearts of the Earth."

"Purifying Rain!"

Ian used a combination of polymorph and summoning spells to create a gentle area of ​​quicksand around the Sandstorm Ancient, attempting to make it feel the "flow" and "inclusiveness" that the sand sea should have, rather than its current "rage" and "plunder." At the same time, he summoned a drizzle containing a faint life force.

It was sprayed onto the core of the sandstorm.

This rain is not for extinguishing fires, but symbolizes the occasional, life-giving rain that falls in the desert, attempting to awaken the spirit of nature buried deep within.

That desire for "nourishment" rather than "destruction".

The effect is not bad.

While it wasn't exceptionally effective, it wasn't entirely ineffective either.

The Sandstorm Ancient Spirit's movements became noticeably sluggish and chaotic again; the skeletal phantom even trembled slightly, as if two consciousnesses were fiercely struggling within it. Its howls were no longer pure rage, but mixed with pain, confusion, and even a trace of... barely perceptible emotion.

It's as if it's yearning for that "rain"?

On the other side, the swamp worm's dark breath became even thicker and darker, its soul-binding power almost materializing.

The dark forces formed countless pitch-black, barbed magical tentacles, which once again coiled around Ian from all directions, aiming not only to corrode the legendary wizard's body!
We must drag his soul into that endless abyss of pain!
"The Light of the Soul!"

Instantly, Ian created layers of invisible barriers around himself, slowing the tentacles' approach. At the same time, the tip of his wand erupted with a blinding white light, like a miniature sun!

This light is not simply illumination, but a "purifying light" infused with Ian's pure magic and unwavering will, representing his unique understanding of the magic of fluorescent flashing.

That is a reflection of the wizard's mind.

Ian prides himself on being upright and honest.

His inner light would naturally be affected, possessing a natural restraint against darkness and impure energy! This is the power of a wizard's power of thought!

"Chichichichi——!"

The moment the dark tentacles came into contact with the intense white light, they melted away as quickly as ice and snow meeting the blazing sun, emitting a piercing sound and releasing an even stronger stench.

It had already experienced something similar before.

They still haven't learned their lesson.

Perhaps this also suggests that this ancient spirit has lost much of its original wisdom.

The swamp worm let out a roar of excruciating pain, a mixture of anger and discomfort. Under the white light, its translucent body faintly revealed the twisted, writhing souls within it!
"The perfect opportunity is now!" Ian seized the chance, his mental energy focusing once more, piercing the swamp worm's energy core with surgical precision!
His consciousness sank into an endless swamp. At first, he felt the softness of the mud, the slow flow of the water, and the "rhythm of the swamp"—a cycle of countless microorganisms decomposing fallen leaves and branches, providing nutrients for new life. It was a balancing force of the wetland ecosystem, tinged with a fishy smell yet brimming with vitality.

It is the power of the true spirit of nature.

But the next moment, a terrifying scene unfolded! Countless devoured and tormented souls surged up from the bottom of the swamp like boiling bubbles, their pain, resentment, and despair polluting the entire swamp!

Even more terrifying, a cold and forceful external force, like a giant water pump, forcibly drained the gentle power in the swamp that represented "purification" and "rebirth"!
then!

It was as if an invisible hand had poured in more and thicker darkness and pain, and shaped this twisted mixture into the terrifying weapon that now only knows how to "devour" and "imprison"!
"So... your pain comes not only from the devoured, but also from the stripping and distortion of your own 'purification' ability..."

Ian understood immediately, a hint of pity in his eyes. He knew this was definitely not the work of the African Ministry of Magic. It wasn't that he believed the African officials had high moral standards, but rather that he knew this kind of power and means was beyond the capabilities of ordinary wizards.

Ministry of Magic.

A group of ordinary wizards, numbering in the hundreds or even just a few, are at best an organization of elite wizards; they don't yet have the resources to possess such wizards.

"unless……"

Of course, it's not 100% impossible, but the thought only flashed through Ian's mind briefly before being temporarily replaced by other ideas.

After all, now is not the time for reflection, but rather the time to gather specific information about these "ancient spirits." Ian's super intelligence still needs to cool down for a while.

After realizing that he was facing uncontrollable spirits of nature.

Ian had no intention of killing anyone.

He changed his strategy.

Faced with the renewed onslaught of dark breath and tentacles.

"Defilement be banished—Holy protection!"

This is an advanced version of the protective magic we just saw.

A soft barrier, a blend of milky-white purifying power and silver protective light, appeared before him. This barrier wasn't indestructible, but it possessed a property of "rejecting darkness" and "soothing pain." Dark breath and tentacles struck the barrier; although they continued to corrode and impact, their speed was noticeably reduced.

Moreover, when those tormented faces came into contact with the light of hope, their wails seemed to contain a faint, almost imperceptible sob, as if they had found a moment of peace. Under the continuous illumination of the white light and the power of purification, the swamp worm's massive body writhed restlessly, and its corrosive mucus secretion seemed to have slowed down somewhat.

For the first time, the momentum of that frenzied attack showed a hint of weakness and...hesitation?
now.

The most astonishing transformation was that of the black mud spirit.

Perhaps stimulated by the presence of awakening energy behind the door, or perhaps because Ian's previous attempt at "lullaby" had the opposite effect, it was no longer content with merely spreading and creating illusions.

At the center of the boiling sludge, a huge, ever-changing abscess suddenly swelled up, and countless bloodshot eyes appeared on the surface of the abscess!

All those eyes were fixed on Ian!
A mental shock far exceeding anything before, like a tangible tsunami, mixed with the deepest and most primal fear, crashed fiercely towards Ian's core soul!
This is no longer a simple illusion or interference. It is a direct mental annihilation attack!
Ian even felt his thoughts freeze for a moment, and the sense of reality around him began to peel away, as if he were about to fall into an eternal abyss of madness!

"Heh, slightly stronger than before, but not by much." Ian's mental defenses have always been excellent. He pushed his Occlumency to its limit, while firmly anchoring several "anchor points" deep within his soul that represent his strongest beliefs and fondest memories, like lighthouses in a storm.

Hold fast to the last vestige of clarity in your consciousness.

Let him be strong, the breeze still caresses the hill; Ian suffered no real harm. Meanwhile, his wand trembled slightly from the excessive magic infused into it.

Ian abandoned all the fancy techniques.

"Calm down." He condensed his understanding of "order," "stability," and "truth" into a simple and pure beam of magic.

The light pierced the countless crazed eyes on the abscess like a sharp sword!

"The truth has been revealed!"

This is not a spell to make people tell the truth.

Instead, Ian gave it a new meaning—to forcibly dispel falsehood and madness, revealing the most essential, undistorted "truth" of things!
"Pfft!"

Like the sound of a balloon being popped, the countless mad eyes on the abscess contracted and burst violently as if pricked by needles the moment they came into contact with the beam of "Real Manifestation," oozing out a viscous black liquid! The black sludge spirit let out its most mournful and ear-piercing shriek to date, like countless pieces of glass rubbing together!

Ian's mental power also took this opportunity to forcefully break through the thickest layer of mental pollution and penetrate deep into its core!
It was a bizarre and fragmented world. There was no up, down, left, or right, no concept of time or space, only countless flowing colors, distorted shapes, and a constant chorus of whispers and screams like background noise.

This is the primal realm of "dreams" and "subconsciousness" that every living being possesses, a chaotic place that should be full of infinite possibilities and reflect the true nature of the heart.

Here, Ian caught a faint trace of "spirituality," like a candle flickering in the wind. This spirituality should be the "dream spirit," freely traversing the dreams of all beings, weaving bizarre stories, and guiding the flow of the subconscious. It is neither good nor evil in itself, but simply a part of the natural order.

But now, this wisp of spirituality has been forcibly stuffed with too many, too heavy fragments of negativity—the nightmares of countless people, the deepest fears, the repressed madness, and… a cold will filled with the meaning of “control” and “surveillance”! This will forcibly glues these negative fragments together.

It distorted the free nature of the spirit of dreams, turning it into a terrifying tool that constantly produces fear, spreads madness, and warps reality!
“Your madness stems from the loss of your right to ‘weave freely,’ turning you into a manipulated puppet…” Ian felt the painful struggle of that spirituality under the pressure of countless negative fragments and cold will, and a strong sense of astonishment welled up in his heart, not just sympathy for the ancient spirit’s plight.

Furthermore, I am speechless at the mastermind's desecration of nature's creation.

He no longer tried to dispel the madness with bright light, but instead transformed his spiritual power into an extremely gentle, steady wave filled with the ideas of "tranquility" and "peace," like a lullaby hummed by a mother, slowly pouring it into the boiling core of the silt—this time, he did not encounter fierce resistance.

The spirituality of the "dream spirit," which had been squeezed to the point of near suffocation, seemed to grasp at a lifeline and began to instinctively draw upon the "tranquility" conveyed by Ian.

The boiling sludge slowed its spread significantly, and the terrifying illusions that shifted on its surface began to blur and slow down. Finally, the countless frantically spinning eyes slowly closed, and the entire massive sludge body, like a deflated balloon, slowly slumped down. Although it still exuded an ominous aura, its aggressiveness was greatly reduced, as if it had fallen into an unstable slumber.

"Go to sleep, go to sleep."

Ian let out a long sigh of relief.

The continuous high-intensity mental confrontation and precise magical control were a huge drain even for him. He looked at the three ancient spirits that had been temporarily calmed down.

The look in his eyes was extremely complicated.

In this fierce battle, he almost used the limits of Hogwarts magic, combined with his understanding of the rules and creative application, to barely manage to avoid exposing himself in the fight against these three severely distorted nature spirits, and even glimpse the deeply buried cruel truth.

They are not monsters; they are fragments of the soul of this land that have been torn apart and defiled.

And the root of all this seemed to point to the "important figure" gradually awakening behind that massive door? Ian adjusted his breathing, his gaze turning solemnly back to the door. The reliefs on the door writhed even more violently, and the muffled tremors grew closer, as if something was about to strike.

They are about to break down the door and escape.

He could clearly sense an extremely powerful, yet extremely twisted, will behind the door. However, this was not what Ian cared about most.

"interesting."

Ian's lips curled up.

Ian had noticed something unusual earlier. What intrigued him most was the coincidence of the door's location.

It appeared on the road he was destined to take to find Newt.

Yes, what a coincidence it must have been for this giant door, which sealed the mastermind behind it all, to stand precisely on the path he had to take to reach the cell where Newt Scamander was imprisoned?
This is no coincidence.

There are no coincidences in the wizarding world.

The underground prison of the African Ministry of Magic is complex, like a maze, but according to the Marauder's Map and his previous perceptions, there seems to be only one path leading to the lowest level, the "Hall of Silence." Therefore, this door is like a man-made obstacle, a barrier he cannot bypass no matter what.

No matter where Ian goes, as long as he goes to find Newt, he will inevitably run into him. This also includes the three Ancient Spirits that Ian has now suppressed.

That is, the spirit of nature in ancient times.

"Someone knew I was coming?" This thought, like a cold, venomous snake, crept into Ian's mind. Who was it? The mysterious blind prisoner? Or some hidden entity within the Ministry of Magic? Or perhaps... the thing behind the door itself possessed some kind of precognitive or guiding ability?
He recalled the blind man's warning, his tone calm yet precise in pointing out the danger below and the difference between the "guards" and the man below. Now, thinking back, while the warning certainly contained an element of not wanting to be disturbed, did it also contain a hint of...guidance? Guiding him to notice the unusual situation here?
It's no wonder that Ian is a conspiracy theorist.

The main thing is that such a coincidence does reveal something strange—so much so that Ian can't help but wonder if the door key that the intelligence dealer gave him was also part of some kind of arrangement.

Of course, this doesn't mean that intelligence brokers were involved in scheming against Ian, but rather that intelligence brokers can sometimes be unknowingly manipulated by certain people.

“If that’s really the case, then the Ministry of Magic here isn’t as simple as I thought.” Ian looked at the constantly changing and writhing runes on the door.

I have mixed feelings in my heart.

There was vigilance and tension, but not unease. Instead, there was more of an anticipation for the unknown crisis—no legendary wizard would fear a challenge.

(End of this chapter)