The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 355 Cedric's Success (4K) (2/2)

Many people think that "Mad-Eye Moody" is paranoid and crazy all day long, but that is precisely the appearance of him being in a state of "daily vigilance". It is a kind of exhausting posture of radiating vigilance to everything around him in order to prevent any unforeseen circumstances.

But once something truly crosses that taut line that has been stretched for decades by the elite Aurors—

Just like what Lynch just did, those outward agitations and exaggerated suspicions quickly subsided. In their place came a calmness like sinking into an icy sea, the absolute focus that had been there when he was hunting the most cunning and dangerous Death Eaters, where all distractions were eliminated and only the goal and analysis remained.

The magic eye has temporarily "failed," targeting that person.

This is not a malfunction, but some kind of unknown, extremely dangerous interference or deceptive magic.

The person looked at him with an assessing and scrutinizing gaze, not the curiosity of an ordinary colleague.

He has the ability to do such incredible things.

He was also a professor at Hogwarts, hired by Dumbledore.

Several key points collided rapidly in Moody's now clearer mind.

Does Dumbledore know about this Lynch? Just who is he?

Moody held a deep, tested trust in Dumbledore. He didn't believe his old friend would deliberately place such a dangerous and scheming person in the school, especially with so many students. But Dumbledore was sometimes—too shrewd, too willing to give others opportunities, and too adept at keeping secrets. Perhaps he knew, perhaps he had other plans, or perhaps—even he was being deceived?

He had to figure it out immediately, no matter what.

"Thump!"

The wooden prosthetic leg slammed heavily on the ground, and Moody abruptly stood up. His movements were somewhat rough due to his haste, causing the chair behind him to scrape against him with a harsh screech. He ignored the surprised looks from the professors nearby and paid no heed to the gasps of a few students who hadn't yet left, startled by his sudden appearance.

In that normal black eye, there was no madness or turbidity, only a cold light as sharp as a drawn dagger.

He's going to see Dumbledore. Now.

Only from Dumbledore could he obtain the most direct and potentially in-depth information about Lynch. He needed to know the man's background, why Dumbledore hired him, and, most importantly, how much his old friend actually knew about him and what his attitude was towards him.

Gripping the flask tightly, Moody took a step forward, his wooden prosthetic leg clapping against the smooth stone floor of the auditorium. The sound seemed particularly abrupt and urgent in the gradually emptying hall.

He walked straight toward the passage behind the faculty seating area, toward the principal's office. His magic eye was still turning, scanning his surroundings, but most of his attention was focused on the upcoming meeting.

Lynch's figure had disappeared, but the mystery and alarms he left behind weighed heavily on Moody's heart like a piece of ice, propelling him toward the place he believed was the only place where he could find the answers, with a long-lost, most lucid fighting spirit characteristic of "Alastor-Moody".

However, Moody did not notice—or rather, his magic eye was "unable" to notice—that as he hurried through a corridor draped with ancient tapestries, an observer stood silently in the shadow of a thick oak beam above.

The crow perched silently on the beam, its dark eyes following the hunched, yet menacing, old figure below. Even after Moody turned the corner of the corridor and the footsteps faded into the stone steps leading to higher floors, the crow remained motionless, as if it were part of the shadow itself.

After a moment, the crow tilted its head very slightly, as if to confirm something.

Then, it flapped its wings without making a sound and glided into the deeper shadows of a nearby arcade, disappearing completely as if it had never been there at all.

The following afternoon, sunlight slanted through the castle's high windows, casting long, warm patches of light on the stone corridors.

There was a gentle knock on the door of the magic research office.

"Please come in," Lin Qi's calm voice rang out.

The door opened, and Cedric Diggory stood in the doorway.

He looked more upright than usual, his light brown hair was neatly combed, and his gray eyes held a calm light that was trying hard to suppress excitement.

He walked in, gently closed the door behind him, and bowed respectfully to Lin Qi, who was sitting behind the large desk.

Good afternoon, Professor Lynch.

"Mr. Diggory," Lynch put down a thick book with pages that gleamed with an eerie silver light, looked up at him, "What is it?"

“Yes, Professor.” Cedric straightened up, his tone clear and steady. “It’s about the protective magic you taught me last semester. I’ve been practicing it throughout the holidays, following your method.” He paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “I think I’ve grasped it to a basic degree.”

A flicker of emotion crossed Lin Qi's dark eyes, and he raised an eyebrow: "Show me."

Cedric took a deep breath and pulled his wand from the inner pocket of his robe.

He adjusted his posture, allowing himself to relax completely while remaining focused, and then slowly pointed the tip of his wand at his chest. His gaze became extremely fixed, his lips moved slightly, and he uttered the spell in a low, peculiar syllable, the pronunciation short and abrupt yet carrying a certain inner rhythm.

The incantation was cast.

The office remained quiet, devoid of light and sound, even the most common magical disturbances were barely perceptible, as if nothing had happened. But Cedric's aura seemed to have undergone a very subtle change; it wasn't that he had become stronger or brighter, but rather that he possessed an indescribable, inner composure and steadiness.

He let out a soft breath and put down his wand.

"It's done, Professor," he said, looking directly at Lynch. "I can feel it—it's there."

According to your teachings, it will remain until I actively deactivate it or the magic becomes unsustainable.

Lynch had already stood up from behind the desk, walked around the desk, and stood in front of Cedric.

"No need to reveal your form, relax," he said, extending his right hand with his palm flat, gesturing for Cedric to stay still. "I need to confirm its existence."

Under Cedric's slightly nervous but trusting gaze, Lynch gently placed his right hand on his left shoulder.

It was placed there without any force, just steadily.

The next moment, Cedric felt an extremely subtle yet profound perception, as deep as a cold pool, coming from Lynch's palm. The feeling was not probing his body or magic, but rather, in a way he could not understand, it sank directly into the deeper parts of his being, touching the invisible armor that had just been constructed and was protecting the essence of his soul.

Lynch narrowed his eyes slightly, focusing on his internal perception.

In his "perceptual vision," the edge of Cedric's soul aura was indeed covered by an extremely thin, yet exceptionally resilient and pure "membrane." It closely adhered to the contours of the soul, radiating a gentle yet unwavering protective will. Although its structure was simple, its foundation was very solid, and its nature was pure. It was the most basic and core form of the "soul armor."

Moreover, as Cedric said, it exists stably, like an invisible lining for the soul.

A moment later, Lin Qi withdrew his hand, and the profound perception disappeared as well.

"Congratulations, you succeeded." Lin Qi smiled and offered a simple congratulation, then walked back to his desk. "Your foundation is very solid, and you haven't strayed from the right path. The nature of your approach is pure, which is very important."

Cedric breathed a sigh of relief, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Thank you, Professor!"

"However," Lynch changed his tone, his gaze sharpening again, "the correct construction is only the beginning. How effective is its actual protection? How well does it perform against different types of attacks, especially those targeting the soul or will? Will it collapse under sustained pressure? And, are the magical energy consumption and mental burden on you to maintain its long-term existence within a controllable range? These all need to be tested."

Cedric's expression turned serious again: "I understand, Professor. I know it's still very immature."

Lynch tapped his fingers lightly on the smooth tabletop.

"Tomorrow afternoon, after class," he looked up at Cedric, "come back to me. We need to conduct a real-world stress test. To test the limits of your armor and your ability to cope."

Cedric's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't back down. Instead, he took a deep breath and said firmly, "Yes, Professor. I'll be prepared." He knew that the stress test Professor Lynch was talking about would not be a gentle experience.

But this is precisely the forging process one must undergo to master this high-level protective magic.

"Very good." Lynch picked up the silver-edged book again, his gaze returning to the pages, indicating that the conversation was over. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Diggory."

"See you tomorrow, Professor. Thank you." Cedric bowed again, then turned and tiptoed out of the office, carefully closing the door behind him.

The office fell silent again, save for the soft rustling of pages turning.

Lynch's gaze fell on the ancient text, but his thoughts had clearly drifted far away.

Cedric's successful construction went more smoothly than he had anticipated; he truly is a child prodigy.

But how much pressure this nascent soul armor can withstand remains to be seen until tomorrow.

He wouldn't go easy on someone just because they were a student, and he certainly wouldn't be in real danger.

The next afternoon, the bell rang crisply throughout the castle as the last class ended.

Cedric packed his bag, took a deep breath, and walked through the increasingly noisy corridor to the familiar office door once again.

He knocked on the door, and after hearing a "come in" from inside, he pushed the door open and entered.

However, the scene in the office gave him a slight pause.

Harry Potter was standing in front of Professor Lynch's desk, seemingly having just finished a conversation, his face still bearing a trace of confusion and contemplation.

Hearing the door open, Harry and Lynch, who was behind the desk, both turned around to look.

"Mr. Diggory, right on time." Lynch nodded, his voice as calm as ever.

"Professor, Potter," Cedric greeted the two politely, though he couldn't help wondering why Harry was there.

Was Potter also learning something from Professor Lynch? Or was it for something else?

Lynch didn't explain. He stood up, picked up the well-tailored gray suit jacket from the back of the chair, and put it on smoothly. A black raven flew up from its perch and landed on his shoulder. As he adjusted his cuffs, he turned his gaze back to Harry.

"Remember what I just said, Harry." Lynch's voice wasn't loud, but it drew everyone's attention. "What Draco Malfoy wants to do is his business. He's sending out his signals," and whether you receive them and how you respond is up to you. Don't be bothered by his unusual behavior, nor do you need to deliberately cater to or resist him. You just need to," he paused, his dark eyes looking at Harry, "focus on what you're supposed to do, just be yourself. The rest, let it happen naturally."

Harry nodded seriously, his brows relaxing slightly, as if these words had given him some clear guidance.

"I understand." He turned to look at Cedric. "Professor Lynch."

"Hmm." Lynch said no more, walked around the desk, and naturally reached out a hand to gently place on Harry's back. With a force that was both inexplicable and irresistible, he led him toward the door, while also gesturing to Cedric.

"Mr. Diggory, keep up. Today's test won't be conducted here."

Cedric immediately replied, "Yes, Professor." He stepped aside to let Lynch lead Harry out, then followed closely behind, closing the office door behind him.

The three walked silently down the corridor, with Lynch leading the way. Once outside, he withdrew his arm, Harry followed behind him, and Cedric brought up the rear.

Occasionally, students would pass by in the corridor, glancing curiously at this peculiar group, but quickly returning to their own business.

When he reached the entrance of a main staircase, Lin Qi stopped.

"That's enough for now, Harry. Go back and finish your homework. Quidditch training may be suspended this year, but you can't let your guard down when it comes to maintaining your physical fitness."

"I will, Professor. Goodbye, Professor. Goodbye, Diggory," Harry said to Lynch, nodded to Cedric, then turned and hurried away toward the Gryffindor Tower.

Lynch watched Harry's figure disappear around the corner of the stairs before turning to Cedric: "Let's go this way."

He led Cedric down the main staircase and through the foyer. The massive oak doors were wide open, letting in the bright afternoon sunlight and the cool autumn breeze.

They walked straight out of the castle gate.

The wide, gravelly path beneath his feet quickly transformed into soft, damp grass. In the distance, the surface of Black Lake shimmered with tiny silver sparkles in the sunlight, and further still, the dark green outline of the Forbidden Forest stretched across the horizon like a sleeping behemoth. Lynch didn't pause; with steady steps, he left the main path and headed diagonally towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.