Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 431, Section 430: The Big Shot Behind the Door

This is the case.

As representatives of power at the very top of the food chain in the wizarding world, legendary wizards never fear challenges. It can be said that a wizard who fears challenges can never become a legend.

now.

Even though he felt that this trip to the Ministry of Magic might be a trap set for him or for anyone who dared to venture into the Ministry of Magic, Ian was not afraid at all.

There was also a hint of excitement.

"If it's really a deliberate attempt to create the illusion that the Ministry of Magic is relatively empty in order to lure in people with ulterior motives to achieve some kind of goal, then I really have to think more highly of the Ministry of Magic here."

"However, the probability isn't very high." You have to understand, the Ministry of Magic imprisoned Newt so deep that it had to use corrupted ancient spirits and even beings behind the door to guard him.

This is highly unusual in itself.

What secrets did Newt's "little animal" uncover that warranted such a huge fuss?

Is this also a carefully designed scheme to lure in certain "capable" people or those who sense something amiss?
For example...himself?

Regarding his own situation, Ian felt the probability was probably less than 10%. To track down the traces and thoughts of a legend, one would need to be at least another legend.

As mentioned before, the Ministry of Magic is a place where no legend can emerge, let alone now, in an era where legends are fading away, even though it is an earlier time.

There is another legendary account of someone secretly plotting against Ian, but this is unlikely to be true.

of course.

As to what exactly happened, Ian believed that he could find the answer soon by searching on his own, but the most urgent task was still to find Newt and find out what was going on.

And they wanted to find Newt.

Then we must face the obstacle of this door in front of us.

Countless speculations swirled in Ian's mind, but he forcibly suppressed them all. Right now, the most important thing was to face what was about to emerge from behind the door. He could feel that the being behind the door had fully awakened, its immense will, filled with filth and desire, pressing down on his heart like a tangible weight.

"Boom...boom...boom..."

The massive door began to vibrate rhythmically, as if something was pounding heavily on the door panels from the inside. The twisted and writhing reliefs on the door seemed to come alive, emitting sharp hissing sounds, and their light became dazzling and unstable. A viscous substance began to seep from the cracks in the door.

It was a black substance like tar, exuding an aura of evil and chaos that was even more intense and primal than that of the Ancient Spirits.

"Am I the target?"

Ian gripped his wand tightly, his eyes sharp as a hawk's, all distractions banished, leaving only pure vigilance and fighting spirit. Whether it was a trap or not.

Now it's time to face some kind of truth.

"Crunch—Buzz—"

With a teeth-grinding, metallic clang, the massive door slowly and heavily opened a crack inward.

An even stronger aura of darkness and filth surged forth like a burst dam, instantly filling the entire passage, making even the air seem thick and toxic.

The obvious changes are very noticeable, just like the air gets colder when a Dementor appears, and the air and atmosphere change noticeably when a door is opened.

From the endless darkness beyond that crack, a pair of eyes lit up.

What kind of eyes were those? Crimson, like burning blood, yet hollow, like two whirlpools leading to an abyss of endless pain. Their gaze was filled with the most primal greed, the most frenzied desire, and a kind of… extreme fanaticism, like a dying person grasping at a straw!
A hoarse, distorted roar, seemingly pieced together from countless fragments of tormented souls, came from behind the crack in the door, resounding directly into the depths of Ian's soul.

“Nature… spirit… fresh… pure… more… give me more!!!” The voice was filled with an extreme thirst for the “spirit of nature,” as if it were the only sustenance to sustain its existence. However, when those scarlet eyes swept over Ian, they paused slightly.

Then, an even more intense, even frenzied, and joyful impulse erupted.

"No...not a spirit of nature...it's...a legend! A wizard's legend!! Good, good, good!!! There's still a legend, still a legend!! Your soul, your power...is enough...enough to keep me conscious for another hundred years! One hundred years!!!" It recognized Ian's identity as a legendary wizard and regarded Ian as a tonic that was even more "delicious" and could prolong its "consciousness" than a spirit of nature!

Ian could clearly sense the guy's desire.

desire.

"I see."

At that moment, he saw through many things. It turned out that this very will, like a source of pollution, was constantly transferring and infusing its own chaos and evil into those natural spirits that should have been peaceful, through some incomprehensible means, causing them to suffer the pain of their essence being defiled.

And they were reduced to twisted monsters that only knew how to carry out commands of guarding and devouring. Under Ian's solemn gaze, a figure slowly stepped out of the darkness behind the open giant door. To Ian's surprise, it was not the grotesque, indescribable monster he had imagined.

Instead, it is a... humanoid life form.

He (or it) was about the same height as an average adult male, wearing a tattered robe that looked as if it were made of countless pieces of cloth of different colors and textures sewn together. The robe was covered with dried, suspiciously colored stains, and the person's skin had an unhealthy, ashen color.

The surface is covered with cracks, like parched land.

Its face was hairless, and although its features were vaguely recognizable as human, they were distorted and stiff, as if it were wearing a cheap mask.

Of course, what is most striking is still those eyes burning with crimson longing.

This seemingly humanoid being exuded an aura of filth and chaos that was even more intense, more primal, and more nauseating than the three ancient spirits combined.

That aura wasn't just simple dark magic; it carried a kind of... divinity? A divinity that had been completely twisted, corrupted, and filled with madness and pain!
It stepped out the door, and without a word, its withered arm, covered in eerie runes, abruptly rose and pointed at Ian. The runes on it seemed both naturally formed and artificially imprinted. Without incantation or a wand, with just this one movement, a vast, corrupt power, imbued with the laws of "decay," "withering," and "soul-tearing," swept towards Ian like an invisible tidal wave!

The nature of this power is completely different from that of wizards' magic; it is more direct, closer to the underlying rules of the world, and carries an undeniable quality.

That was an old scent that Ian knew all too well.

Authority belonging to "God".

Yes.

The power that belongs to the gods.

Even though this authority has long been corrupted beyond recognition!
“Divine magic! Corrupted divine magic!” Ian’s pupils shrank as he instantly discerned the true nature of this power, having already encountered more than one deity in recent times.

Faced with such a creature, Ian dared not be negligent any longer. His legendary magic erupted without reservation! His wand traced an incredibly complex pattern before him at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye. It was a composite defensive array, blending the essence of ancient runes and modern magic circles.

"The root barrier!"

A magical barrier, shimmering with iridescent light and flowing with countless tiny runes, instantly formed, solidly blocking Ian's path! "Boom—!!!"

The corrupt divine power slammed into the glass barrier, unleashing a deafening roar!
The entire underground prison shook violently.

The rocks above fell in a rustling sound.

The glass barrier flashed wildly, and the runes on its surface flickered violently, clearly bearing immense pressure, but it ultimately managed to steadily block this terrifying attack!
At the very moment of the collision of forces, Ian's mental power, like the most sensitive detector, made direct contact with and sensed that tainted divine power!

He "saw" it! Deep within that filth and chaos lay a shattered fragment of "divinity," filled with pain and madness! The authority this fragment originally represented seemed to be... "procreation"? "abundance"? Or perhaps some related concept of a natural cycle?

But this power, which should have brought vitality and prosperity, is now being eroded and distorted by an indescribable "pollution" that is like a cancer in the universe!
This pollution, like a living thing, is constantly multiplying and spreading, corroding the divine essence itself and distorting the laws it represents! "Proliferation" has become unrestrained and distorted "expansion," "abundance" has become corrupt and festering "excess," and "cycle" has become an endless and painful "reincarnation"!
If this deity can still be called a deity.

It is itself suffering from this uncontrollable and ever-growing pollution! Its madness and its thirst are not innate, but rather the pain and instinct brought about by this pollution that has penetrated deep into the core of divinity!

From its frenzied roars—"Give me more!" "A hundred more years of lucidity!"—Ian instantly understood its method of transferring pollution!

Unable to eliminate or suppress the ever-growing pollution on its own, it can only transfer some of the pollution to other pure beings that contain the power of nature—that is, the spirits of nature—through some kind of evil ritual or instinct! By polluting the spirits of nature, it temporarily alleviates its own burden and gains a brief period of "clarity"!
Having figured all this out, Ian's gaze toward the fallen god became even more astonished, and also carried a hint of solemnity, but there was no contempt in it.

As the saying goes, "It's better to die for your friend than for yourself," so it can't be said that this cruel method is particularly inhumane. After all, in nature, the law of the jungle is the natural order.

can only say.

This deity has clearly done something similar before.

Those spirits of nature became the victims of this undeserved calamity, their essence forcibly distorted, turning them into their current painful and insanely twisted forms.

This may also be one of the reasons why there are fewer and fewer natural spirits in Africa.

"I see……"

A sudden realization dawned on Ian; all the previous clues and doubts now connected! Perhaps, deep beneath the African Ministry of Magic, a severely corrupted, maddened deity was imprisoned (or perhaps worshipped?). For now, Ian didn't know why the African Ministry of Magic would do such a thing.

but!

One thing is certain: in order to prevent itself from being completely consumed by pollution, this deity continuously transfers the pollution to the natural spirits of the African continent.

And this.

The African Ministry of Magic could not possibly be unaware of this; in fact, they may even be condoning such things and helping to cover up these distorted deities.

otherwise.

It's impossible that there was absolutely no word about this outside. Without official intervention to cover it up, such a thing couldn't be kept secret, and it was bound to cause unrest.

Moreover, only an institution like the Ministry of Magic has the extensive experience to prevent a terrible fact from becoming known to the public; ordinary institutions neither have this experience nor this ability.

Ian still doesn't know whether the Ministry of Magic's help in covering up this matter is for the stability and peace of the wizarding world, or whether there are some other cruel and unspeakable reasons behind it.

In short.

In Ian's view

Regardless, the Ministry of Magic in Africa is definitely not clean.

“Why isn’t this surprising at all? It’s the Ministry of Magic, after all, their traditional skill.” Ian gradually sorted out his thoughts and realized that Newt might not actually have been framed.

The "little animal" that Newt Scamander brought may have inadvertently touched upon this secret, or its very existence posed a threat to this transfer ritual, which is why it was quickly imprisoned at the lowest level—as for why the gate sealing the fallen gods was placed on the only way.

Then we'll have to wait and see.

It can't be that this fallen god personally guards Newt, can it?
That doesn't quite make sense. If Newt awakened this fallen god, then this fallen god certainly wouldn't be so obedient as a guard for the Ministry of Magic.

Actually, the gate that sealed the gods was also a bit strange. It was never opened earlier or later, as if someone was manipulating things behind the scenes, waiting for Ian to appear before opening it to release the fallen gods inside.

This kind of existence.

He truly deserves to be called a big shot by intelligence dealers.

“No matter what, having fought him and seen his memories, perhaps I can find out what really happened.” Ian’s gaze turned to the fallen god in front of the gate not far away.

In fact.

In fact, you can tell from the other party's expression and attitude that regardless of whether Ian wants to fight or not, this battle is probably unavoidable and he will have to face it.

after all.

The other side has already set its sights on Ian.

Negotiation doesn't seem to solve anything, and it's not Ian's style or usual approach. He just wants to beat up guys who don't respect him.

"Even gods are the same."

Ian really disliked the other person's gaze.

This legendary wizard, who had stumbled upon this place by accident, was regarded by this greedy, fallen god as a superior tonic, even more potent than the spirit of nature, capable of keeping him "awakened for another hundred years."

You're using me, Ian, as a supplement?
Did they ask me if I agreed or not?
"You want to devour me?"

Ian slowly raised his wand, his magic roaring like a dragon awakening, his eyes burning with icy fighting spirit. "Let's see if you, this dying god, still have any teeth left!"

This is not the first time Ian has raised his wand against God.

Confident and composed.

Calm and elegant.

That's Ian right now.

"To be able to help me! It is your honor, a mere mortal, that is to be rewarded!"

The fallen god seemed to be enraged by Ian's provocation. It let out an even more frenzied roar, and its filthy divine power surged like a boiling ocean.

The war is about to break out!
(End of this chapter)