Ancient Wizards Return to Hogwarts...

Chapter 447 Rice: Why do you think teleportation magic can't be interrupted?

"Salazar, I'm a ghost now! How am I supposed to eat?" Godric's face flashed a bitter smile.

This is also a major drawback of becoming a ghost.

"Didn't Rowena tell you? I invented a memory-enhancing potion that allows ghosts to taste food." Rice pulled another bottle of potion from his pocket.

Godric's eyes lit up immediately upon hearing this.

To be fair, while Rowena's breakthrough in alchemy was impressive, it was Salazar's skill points that were truly beneficial to him.

"Then what are we waiting for? Hurry up and bring it up! I can't wait any longer!" Godric sat down in the chair opposite Rice as if they were old friends and started urging them on.

Salazar had been drooling over the delicious food on the table for a long time.

"Okay, let me look..." Rice reached into his small leather bag and began to rummage around.

"There's a lot of stuff, let me look through it slowly..."

"Mmm!" Godric nodded repeatedly.

As Rice rummaged through the bag, he asked casually, "Godrick, of the four of us, who do you think is the most intelligent?"

Gryffindor: ?

Why is Salazar asking this question? Even an eleven-year-old knows that of the four founders of Hogwarts, the one most renowned for his wisdom is Rowena the Ravenclaw!

"Royna, why are you suddenly asking this kind of question?" Godric blinked, a hint of innocence flashing in his eyes.

"I see..." Rice didn't say much, but continued to search for his potions in the small bag.

About half a minute later, Rice gasped, "Hiss—how come I can't find it? I remember it being right here."

Godric rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger, and he vaguely realized the crux of the problem.

"I think a thousand years ago, Rowena might have barely held this position. But a thousand years later, the most intelligent one is undoubtedly you, Salazar!"

"Oh? Why—isn't Rowena the Wise Witch? She also has a crown that can enhance wisdom. How can a wizard like me, who only knows how to deal with potions, compare to her?" Rice stopped what he was doing and squinted at Godric.

Gryffindor cursed inwardly: They actually need an excuse? Are they kidding me?!

But for the sake of fine wine and food, Godric started to rack his brains and actually found a very reasonable reason.

"No matter how smart Rowena is, she still turned into a ghost and eventually needed you to save her, didn't she?" Godric forced himself to put on a sincere expression.

Rice, however, was quite pleased with Godric's answer.

The bottle containing the food-themed potion was also found among a bunch of miscellaneous potion bottles—he genuinely hadn't found it before.

Soon, Godric began to enjoy the delicious food and potions that Rice had prepared for him.

A drop of the beer-flavored potion entered his body, and Godric couldn't help but let out a cry of "Awesome!" Compared to this enjoyment, what did the slight effort he had just endured matter?

Although it's not comparable to actual eating, Godric can't ask for more in his current state.

After drinking three drops of the potion, Godric looked at his old friend and couldn't help but bring up the previous topic: why Salazar got involved in this match.

At this point, Gryffindor realized what was going on. What kind of opponent would require his old friend to lead the team? Surely it couldn't be that the Norse false gods had resurrected and were leading their disciples to fight them again?

Godric knew his old friend very well; he would never enter a children's game unless someone of the same level from another school joined in.

Why is he here? Why would Helga and Rowena allow him to be here? It can't be a prank—wait, if it's Rowena, then it's quite possible?

But given Salazar's temperament, who could force him to do something he didn't want to do?

Various thoughts swirled in Godric's mind, leaving him somewhat confused and his head feeling foggy, as if he were drunk.

Instead of immediately answering his old friend's question, Rice silently tore off a chicken leg and sucked all the meat into his stomach with a "pop," leaving only a smooth bone.

Not only did Rice eat them himself, but he also tore off the chicken's head and tail and stuffed them into the basilisk's wide-open mouth in his sleeve.

Only after this whole process was completed did he begin to answer Godric's questions.

"I am the price Rowena paid."

"Huh?" Gryffindor was genuinely puzzled. Rhys then explained to him in detail the problems exposed by the small world created by Rowena.

Gryffindor's brow furrowed instantly.

He immediately sensed the danger; Rowena had once again stirred up a huge mess.

Clearly, as the creator goddess of this world, Rowena has lost control of it, and has even allowed creatures to be born that she cannot kill from outside the world, which is terrifying.

If she chooses to cover it up, it could bring terrible disaster to Hogwarts in the future.

Fortunately, she remained rational enough to trick Salazar into coming in and cleaning up her mess. Gryffindor trusted their old friend implicitly.

He believed Salazar could absolutely complete the mission perfectly.

"So I'll be very busy from now on. Dragon King, Emperor, Pope, Chief Mage, and gods high in the heavens, I have a lot to do." As he said this, Rice suddenly frowned, reached into his robe, and took out the crystal ball used for communication.

At this moment, the crystal ball became very hot, as if it were giving itself some kind of hint.

"Oh, it's my teammates coming over... Let me see which school my teammates are from." Rice felt that since they had come all this way, it wouldn't be right for him to hide and not see them.

Once we meet, I can just tell him I don't want to team up—if he's a Hogwarts student, I wouldn't mind helping him out.

Soon, a young man pushed open the tavern door. After looking around, his gaze fell on Rice, and a look of joy immediately appeared on his face.

"Great, I finally found you. If we had gotten any closer to that explosion site, I might have given up on the idea of ​​teaming up." Because the chair in front of Rice was pulled out, the young man naturally sat down opposite Rice, and then couldn't help but shiver.

Strange, why does it feel so chilly here? The young man was puzzled. Soon, something even more astonishing happened: the divine remains within him underwent strange changes, becoming restless—this was extremely strange.

But now is not the time to delve into these things; there will be plenty of time to resonate with the divine remains when he goes to sleep tonight. Right now, he needs to hurry and persuade the Hogwarts student in front of him to form an alliance with him.

He saw it clearly that day; the boy in front of him scored a very high score, and he had gotten incredibly lucky. With such a strong teammate, he was sure he would get a very high score in the end.

Looking at the young monks from the Secret Order who had come to him on their own initiative, Rice had an absurd feeling: Did he have some special constitution that made him naturally good at attracting people from the Secret Order?

Watching him speak so eloquently in front of him, Rice couldn't help but laugh and say, "I'm really lucky."

"Not at all, I was just lucky!" Seeing how easygoing Rice was, the young monk was overjoyed: who wouldn't want to get along well with their teammates?

Encouraged by the joyful mood, even the strange chill that I felt when I first sat down disappeared.

What the young monk couldn't see was that a burly red-haired man was standing beside him, staring intently at him.

Gryffindor sensed a strangely familiar aura emanating from the person before him.

"I never imagined that the leader of your secret order would be the legendary wizard Godric Gryffindor," Rice remarked casually, while gesturing to the bartender for another small jug of ale.

"We didn't expect it either. Lord Polaris is always elusive in the organization, and we only got to meet him because of this opportunity to participate in the Hogwarts competition. To be honest, all seven of us were dumbfounded when he revealed his true identity." The monk poured himself a glass of wine, and after taking a sip, he became even more talkative.

Gryffindor on the side: ? ? ?

The muscles on his forehead were almost squeezing into a question mark shape.

The Secret Order? How come he didn't know he founded such an organization? Was someone impersonating him? Doesn't anyone at Hogwarts suspect anything?

"To be brought to Hogwarts by Lord Gryffindor, you must be among the most outstanding geniuses in the Secret Order, right?"

The young monk chuckled, neither admitting nor denying it.

He is indeed the organization's foremost genius, having successfully fused with a divine relic before the age of seventeen, gaining power approaching that of a god. If he further develops the relic's abilities or fuses with an even more powerful relic in the future, he will be able to earn the title of a constellation.

To put it bluntly, the organization has recently lost quite a few Zodiac cultivators, so he might be able to choose a constellation from the twelve constellations to inherit his mantle!

"What is your secret order trying to do here? You're not a magic school, why are you making such a fuss?" Rice asked the question he genuinely wanted to ask. However, he also knew that he couldn't get the right answer from the young monk in front of him.

"To broaden our horizons and, incidentally, to enhance the organization's reputation. Lord Polaris said he wants to establish a magic school in Eastern Europe that is on par with Hogwarts."

Godric's eyes widened in disbelief: This imposter is too outrageous! Doesn't he care about his own persona at all? How could Godric possibly establish an independent school outside of Hogwarts?

Salazar's conversation with the boy before him was only vaguely understood by him; he could only sense that his old friend was using the young man to teach him something. For example, that a clown was using his name to swindle and deceive people.

Rice didn't reply, but silently watched as the young genius of the secret order wolfed down all the dishes on the table.

"Are you full?"

"I'm so full..."

"That's good." Rice put his hands together and rested them on his chin. "Oh, by the way, there's a question. Is your crystal ball broadcasting something right now? I value my privacy."

"Of course not." The monk shook his head. This style of broadcasting what he saw and heard was not to their organization's liking.

"That's great." Rice smiled faintly, then told the young man that he had no intention of forming a team.

Youth of the Secret Society: Huh?

"No, you—" At this moment, the cultivator realized that he had fallen into the other party's trap and was now stuck in the chair, unable to move his lower body.

Startled, he immediately began to draw upon the power of the divine remains within his body. However, the divine remains, which usually flowed smoothly, were acting strangely today, dragging their feet as if they had no intention of unleashing their divine domain.

"No!" The cultivator and the divine remains spent every day together, and were almost in perfect harmony. He soon realized that his divine remains were not being lazy, but were being fearful.

How is that possible? Those are the remains of a god. What makes this boy so fearsome to the gods?

Sensing the emotions of the divine remains, the young cultivator was terrified. He no longer considered resisting, but instead prepared to directly activate the defensive magic on the crystal ball and use the portal key to teleport back himself.

The boy opposite seemed not to have reacted, letting him activate the crystal ball's defensive spell.

When he felt that familiar pulling force coming from his navel, the young cultivator breathed a sigh of relief: even if the boy in front of him left the arena with him through the door key, he would be fine—could he really kill him in front of Lord Polaris and so many principals?

Once outside, he must report to Lord Polaris—

At this moment, Rice spoke.

"Don't move. I haven't given you permission to leave yet." With that, he waved his hand, and the surrounding air seemed to freeze. The young cultivator stared wide-eyed, feeling as if he had crashed into a lump of rubber and was being squeezed out bit by bit.

"How—possible—" the monk practically spat out the words through clenched teeth.

"Why not? You don't think teleportation magic is uninterruptible, do you? When the difference in strength is too great, one can forcibly spread a large amount of their magic power in the surrounding space, creating an effect similar to a domain, thereby forcibly interrupting the teleportation. This crude method is only effective against some teleportation magic. Coincidentally, the Portkey is one of them."

The cultivator's face had turned ashen. He watched helplessly as he was forced back into his seat, his hope of escape now in the hands of the young man opposite him.

"Who exactly are you?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Rice Lint, a fourth-year wizard at Hogwarts." Rice casually tossed the crystal ball into a corner of the tavern, then grabbed the young monk's head with his hand.

He stared intently into the monk's eyes and asked, "What was Polaris's purpose in sending you to infiltrate Hogwarts?"

However, the answer was exactly the same as before.

"As expected, even the ordinary monks of the Secret Order were kept in the dark." Rice sighed regretfully, casually snapped the monk's neck, and dug out the divine remains from his body.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Update delivered, goodnight everyone~

(End of this chapter)