The Wind and the Wings of Hogwarts

In the oppressive atmosphere, Scott took out a few silver dollars to pay the bill, then turned and left the bar.

Walking under the streetlights, his shadow was stretched very long.

Rimbaud flew down from the sky and landed on his shoulder.

The witch's influence extended beyond others; it also affected Scott himself.

"Perhaps I've been thinking too simply all along," he muttered.

"What?" Rimbaud asked softly.

Scott shook his head, not wanting to say anything more.

He didn't tell Rimbaud that before this, all he had thought about was himself and the people he cared about. Therefore, he had always maintained a detached attitude towards the impending chaos. Even though he watched last night's battle through a "live broadcast," it felt like watching a movie, but he didn't really feel it.

Only today, having witnessed genuine sorrow and despair, did he realize that the effects of war were far more profound than he had imagined.

Scott's mind was in turmoil. For the first time, he felt that perhaps being too perceptive wasn't all good.

He can express the colors of magic through painting, and he can also perceive changes in the magic of others through perception. This makes him more and more sensitive to emotions and even enhances his ability to empathize.

He thought of those who had died in the battle last night and felt inexplicably restless.

But Scott's moment of sentimentality didn't last long; with the warm summer evening breeze blowing, he quickly regained his composure.

Reason told him not to put himself in a difficult position.

Even if you think about things that are beyond your control, it will only increase your troubles.

Before he knew it, he had arrived at the entrance of the Honey Duke candy store.

Perhaps because he was in a bad mood, looking at the colorful candies in the shop window, he suddenly had an instinctive craving for sweets, so he stepped into the store.

A few minutes later, he walked out of the shop carrying a bag full of all kinds of candies.

Afterwards, he and Rimbaud used a door key to return to Raven's Territory in the forest in an empty alley.

Large chunks of creamy yellow almond candy, sparkling pink coconut sorbet, honey-colored toffee, and various chocolates...

Inside the oak cabin, Scott, who had regained his original self, ate several kinds of candy in one go, and then began to feel overwhelmed.

"I really don't like sweets."

He put down the half-eaten milk chocolate, felt nauseous but couldn't vomit, so he busied himself brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth.

Late at night, Scott, lying in bed, finally calmed down completely.

He took out the Sailor's natal chart, which had already been examined by his Ravenclaw mentor, and began to try to communicate with it.

As magic was channeled into him, Scott suddenly felt his consciousness sink.

Feeling the weightlessness as if falling from a great height, he remained calm this time.

In the blink of an eye, he reappeared on the old sailboat anchored in the cold, black ocean.

Despite feeling the bone-chilling cold all over his body, Scott did not experience any mental stagnation this time.

Moreover, because of his clear consciousness and active thinking, the cold that was about to freeze his limbs gradually subsided.

Scott looked around and began walking on the tattered deck.

Because it was dark all around, he couldn't see things very well and thought how nice it would be if he had his wand.

As soon as he started thinking this, he felt a familiar grip in his hand, and that familiar feeling of spiritual connection told him that it was undoubtedly his magic wand.

"Fluorescent flashing".

Scott tried to cast an illumination charm, and the tip of his wand successfully emitted a soft, non-glaring light.

This feeling is amazing.

Scott was unsure whether he was in a dream or a hallucination. Everything around him felt so real, yet he could manipulate it with his own consciousness.

Just as he felt he shouldn't feel cold because of this false illusion, the coldness truly left him.

With the light illuminating the way, Scott began to explore the ship carefully, leaving no place unexplored—the decks, the cabins, the captain's quarters.

But Scott still came up empty-handed.

There are no documents or any identifying features on this old sailboat. It's like a virtual ship modeled in 3D, with nothing worth studying except for its realistic appearance.

Is it due to insufficient communication or...?

Stepping back onto the deck, Scott looked up at the sky.

After a long while, he blinked.

This star-studded night sky is, of course, an illusion.

Scott thought.

But after a long while, he still didn't look away.

"I hope my astronomical knowledge will come in handy."

He muttered to himself, deciding to memorize the fixed constellations in the sky.

Wizards' astronomy differs from Muggle astronomy; it is also a form of magic. They can determine the location of the old sailboat by observing the stars.

However, this also requires some very complicated calculations.

Despite his efforts, Scott was unable to memorize the constellations in that sky.

While he was still trying to memorize, he suddenly felt his thinking speed begin to slow down rapidly.

Although Scott "struggled" for a moment, trying to memorize the celestial phenomena, he failed, and his mind soon began to stagnate.

Therefore, he could only escape from the illusion or dream.

The escape was successful.

When Scott opened his eyes again, he saw the familiar ceiling of the cabin.

He rubbed his throbbing head with his fingers and looked at the Sailor Astrolabe in his hand.

This time, the Sailor's chart remained unchanged.

Because the dizziness was too intense, Scott did not try to communicate again. He placed the Sailor Astrolabe with the chain next to his pillow and then fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Scott didn't even have time for breakfast before rushing to his small desk to write down the celestial phenomena he still remembered.

"It seems we'll have to take it slow."

An hour later, looking at the incomplete star chart in his hand, he knew that he had to piece it together through repeated communication.

As he put down the star chart and began to eat breakfast, Rimbaud flew into the cabin through the window with a new issue of the Daily Prophet.

"The newspaper has arrived!" He placed the newspaper on the table.

"Thank you."

Still feeling a bit dizzy, Scott roused himself and unfolded the newspaper.

"A memorial service for former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge is being held today."

This is today's front-page headline in the Daily Prophet.

Scott glanced at the uninformative content and started looking at other sections.

Who Will Become the New Minister of Magic?

Scott was quite surprised when he saw the title.

Since Fudge's memorial service has already taken over the front page, is it really necessary to "counterattack" like this on the side pages?

Of course, Scott was just joking to himself.

He was well aware that the current situation was tense, and that it was urgent for the British wizarding community to elect a new and suitable Minister of Magic as soon as possible, which was also the expectation of all British wizards.

However, people's expectations are probably different, and different people have different ideas about the word "suitable".

Scott glanced at it and found that the report was also full of meaningless content, simply listing a list of people who might become ministers and offering a few brief comments.

Scott couldn't help but sigh, "It's so easy for journalists to make money."

Fortunately, the next report contained some content that interested him.

Azkaban Faces Reform: Where Will the Dementors Go?

This article apparently offers some plausible advice on how to manage Azkaban in the event that all the Dementors have rebelled.

Chapter 431 Choosing the Anchor Point of the Soul

"Nothing meaningful?"

Seeing Scott close the Daily Prophet, Rimbaud asked curiously.

“The chaotic state of the Ministry of Magic must also affect the newspapers,” Scott replied. “So they can only carefully publish ambiguous content without a clear viewpoint.”

After breakfast, Scott took out a small picture frame he carried with him and brought up a portrait of his Ravenclaw mentor.

"Professor, do you know everything?" he asked, "about what happened these past two days."

Ravenclaw in the painting smiled slightly, "I know a little. At Hogwarts, the residents in the paintings are always very well-informed."

Scott took out the [Magic Mirror] and showed Ravenclaw the battle footage he had recorded.

After a long time, Ravenclaw, who had watched the whole thing, did not show any emotional fluctuation.

She said to Scott in a matter-of-fact tone, "No matter how much time has passed, no matter what era we live in, wizards will always start wars because of their different ideologies."

Scott was somewhat surprised by her composure, but he quickly understood.

His mentor was a wizard who lived a thousand years ago, in a far more chaotic era than today.

As a powerful wizard standing at the pinnacle of his abilities, what hasn't Ravenclaw seen?

“But Medea is different,” Ravenclaw added. “That child has no ideas of her own; she is merely a continuation of Salazar.”

The mentor frowned as he said this, expressing his disapproval of Medea.

Perhaps in her view, even if Voldemort's ideology was terrible, it was still better than Medea, who actually had no self.

Scott thought this, and he asked it.

Ravenclaw did not deny it.