"Interests... greatness..." Mu En murmured.
Then he shook his head and stepped onto the stairs, crushing dry fallen leaves beneath his feet with soft crackling sounds.
Creak—
He slowly pushed open the massive wooden door, which let out a piercing groan. What followed was utter silence.
He paced slowly across the vast, smooth marble floor. After scanning the surroundings, he gently pushed his hand forward.
Just as Mu En had told Harry, Mage Hand was flexible and ever-changing.
Colorless, invisible, gentle waves spread outward. Every response from touching the walls and rubble was reflected with perfect clarity in his mind.
Like a bat's ultrasound.
This technique required only a tiny bit of magic to release a tiny "wave."
And only a tiny bit of information-processing ability.
Before long, he found a moving response from above the castle.
A hunched, withered old man.
With that thought, he slowly turned and headed for the stairs.
Not long after, he climbed several floors and arrived at a dark corridor. There were many rooms here, yet it was utterly empty. Apart from feathers left behind by birds and fallen leaves blown in from somewhere, nothing remained.
The sound of footsteps echoed endlessly through the corridor.
Then he slowly stopped before one of the rooms.
The door stood open, with no lock. Wind howled through the empty window frame.
Inside was a low table, with several sheets of parchment resting atop it. They were very, very old; clearly, their owner had read them over and over.
The only other thing was an iron-barred bed. It had only a yellowed mattress, while the bedsheet... had been torn until only half remained.
A withered hand reached out and tucked the parchment into the lining of ragged clothes.
The hunched old man crouching in the corner slowly rose.