Hogwarts Wasteland: The Witch from the Borderlands

It's different; the mausoleum is a place where soulless demigods lie dead.

He was a discarded child who neither became a king nor a god, a discarded child of Queen Marika.

Unable to return to the Golden Tree, the power of the Dead Roots invaded from beneath the earth. Thus, they could only rest in the wandering shrine, a refuge that resisted death yet was filled with it, a place bathed in the cold sun.

The castle before her, though also supported by four giant legs, was brimming with life and vitality. Even the fierce, cold winds of the wasteland could only bypass it, and Hermione could feel a wave of warmth even from a great distance.

"You'll be safe once we get there," McGonagall said as warmly as she could, but her travel-worn appearance was hardly heartwarming.

"Come up on the broom, and learn from me. You'll have a special course on how to fly later." McGonagall held up the broom and invited Hermione to get on. The broom was obviously extended, and two people could sit on it without feeling cramped at all. It was probably used by professors to rescue students.

Hermione didn't say much and obediently climbed on. The broom, which was enchanted with a cushion charm, wasn't as uncomfortable as she had imagined; an invisible force supported her.

Professor McGonagall sat behind her, his arms wrapped around her, but the professor's bulging shirt made her feel a little cramped.

"It's a Deathproof Coat, stuffed with rats to deflect the Death Curse," McGonagall explained, seemingly noticing the girl's confusion. "Death Eaters love using this trick. To be honest, I didn't expect you could reflect the Death Curse."

As they spoke, the broom flew up, steadily and quickly, blocking out the cold wind.

"Your grades will definitely be excellent in the future. Although I don't know which college you will be assigned to, I hope you can study Transfiguration well. It is a very important subject." For some reason, Professor McGonagall seemed very talkative, perhaps just because she didn't want the girl to be immersed in the grief of her parents' death.

"That killing curse," Hermione suddenly said, "is it very powerful? A...Vada...?"

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, seemingly reluctant, but still began to explain: "The Killing Curse was classified as one of the three unforgivable curses decades ago. It was considered an unstoppable curse. Its terrifying aspect is that even a young wizard who has just learned spells can use this spell to kill someone ten times stronger than him."

"An unstoppable instant-death effect?" Hermione muttered to herself.

"You've summarized it well, child." McGonagall sighed, the wind howling outside the broom. "But ever since that war, the taboo of the so-called Unforgivable Curse has been broken. Wizards have used their power recklessly, enslaving Muggles, or even their fellow wizards. And then that person rose up, green flames spread across the land, and the Killing Curse almost became his symbol."

"But I managed to block the killing curse, and even deflected it." Hermione was a little puzzled. If such a powerful spell was blocked by a young witch who hadn't even started school yet, shouldn't it be more than just surprise?

"Times are progressing," McGonagall sighed. "Though I hate to admit it, this chaotic world has indeed propelled the advancement of magic. There are now ways to deal with Killing Curse, Imperius Curse, and Cruciatus Curse."

She tugged at her clothes: "Anti-death coats, brain-sealing helmets, magical nerve inhibitors—all sorts of devices have been researched by fairies and humans to harm each other."

"Of course, it's not just about external objects. For example, the Reflection Charm I just mentioned, an advanced application of this armor-piercing charm, was developed in the decades after the war. Skilled wizards can easily deflect or even reflect enemy magic." McGonagall forced a smile. "But the enemy can cast the Killing Curse countless times, while you can't afford to make a single mistake."

"So the Reflection Charm is only used as a standard for skilled wizards, and can't be widely adopted? After all, the cost of the Deathproof Coat is lower." Hermione extrapolated from this example.

"You are very clever, child," the old professor exclaimed. "A few dozen rats that are everywhere, plus a not-too-complicated Confusion Charm, can deceive most dark wizards' killing curses, causing them to change their target. This is enough to withstand dozens of Killing Curses. The energy saved can allow us to do more on the battlefield."

"It seems that war is still the dominant force in this world, and the development of magic has gone further and further away from killing," Hermione pondered.

"It's just as brutal as the border region."

The broom flew very fast, and the castle was not far away. Without giving them more time, the two had already arrived at their destination.

"It's huge."

Hermione looked at the enormous castle before her. It was indeed not part of the mortuary, but much larger. The towering castle was only part of the entire Walking Mountain, surrounded by flat lawns and huge, stadium-like facilities.

As the flying broomstick approached, a feeling of passing through a curtain of water or traversing space rose from the bottom of my heart, and my vision felt strangely displaced, as if it had been flattened and then restored.

As evening fell and night deepened, the figures outside the castle became somewhat indistinct, but a tall, upright figure stood outside the gate, welcoming them, accompanied by a group of children.

"Thank you for your hard work, Professor McGonagall." Although it was meant as a word of comfort, the voice coming from the figure carried an undeniable air of arrogance.

Professor McGonagall landed with Hermione, her face showing obvious disgust: "Lucius, are these all the children?"

At this point, Hermione could see the person speaking clearly: a meticulously groomed robe, platinum blonde hair, and a long, off-white cane that, based on her experience in the Borderlands, was made of bone.

The man named Lucius gathered the children around him, about a dozen or so, and said in an arrogant and slick tone, "Yes, all of them. The ones Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick brought are all here. They went through a fierce battle and went back to rest first."

He then looked at Hermione behind McGonagall: "Is this the last one?"

He noticed Hermione's tattered cotton coat and couldn't help but show a look of disgust: "A Mud... Muggle?"

Professor McGonagall cleansed herself with her wand, then tore off a dark green coat from her robes as if by magic. She glared at Lucius and said, "Professor Malfoy, I need to remind you that this is Hogwarts. Don't bring your family's views into the school."

Lucius was taken aback by the remark and was somewhat annoyed at losing face in front of so many children, but he dared not contradict the vice principal, so he could only say, "I will take care of these children. You should go and prepare for the opening banquet."

McGonagall patted Hermione's head tenderly before handing her over to Professor Malfoy, who clearly had a bloodline bias, and then hurriedly entered the Great Hall, where hundreds of people were waiting for her to deal with.

"Alright, kids, line up here. We're about to hold your Sorting Ceremony." Lucius said with a hint of disdain as he shoved Hermione into the line.

"Hogwarts is a prestigious and historic magical school. Forty years after the war, it preserved its complete set of magical books, making it one of the few remaining gems in the magical world. You should be proud to be able to study here."

Lucius began recounting the history of Hogwarts at length, but the little ones around Hermione had no patience to listen any longer.

They were dressed neatly and smartly, a stark contrast to another group of children in tattered clothes; clearly, these were children from a wizarding family.