Interpreting The Book of Abraham

The young wizard walked in front, with the Centaur and Hagrid protecting them from behind. The nine of them, with their twenty-two legs, trudged through the forest's grass and fallen leaves, making a soft rustling sound.

Lost in their own thoughts, they walked for an unknown amount of time. The weeds on the path thinned out, the trees became less dense, and the view gradually opened up.

In the blink of an eye, they had arrived at Hagrid's Hut. Loren and the others turned around, but the two Centaur had disappeared without a trace.

"I need to put away my weapons. I can't bring all of these to Hogwarts. Wait for me," Hagrid said in a muffled voice.

Further ahead is the Greenhouse where Herbology Class are held, which is very close to the Castle.

Crabbe didn't want to waste any more time here and said impatiently, "I don't need you to take me. I can get back by myself."

After saying that, he walked away towards the Castle. He couldn't wait to get back and write a letter.

"Fang, keep an eye on him," Hagrid instructed, patting the hound's head.

There was no danger from the Edge of the Forbidden Forest to the Castle, but out of duty, he still sent Fang to escort him.

Malfoy looked around and followed Fang.

"Hagrid, do you want to treat your injuries? We can get back on our own," Loren said.

Harry then remembered that Hagrid had withstood a powerful spell and looked at Hagrid with concern.

Hagrid grinned and patted his chest. "See! I'm perfectly fine."

The thick palm collided with the sternum, making a loud bang.

Loren clicked his tongue in amazement. No wonder he had the blood of a giant; he had withstood an impact that almost snapped the tree in two, yet he was completely unharmed.

"Charlie's friend brought the box to me and said he almost got caught by Professor McGonagall..." Hagrid entered the house, his voice carrying through the Wooden House, somewhat muffled.

He quickly reappeared, his giant crossbow and quiver removed and left inside the house, carrying Loren's small box in his hand.

"I knew you guys were going to be put in solitary confinement, so I asked Professor McGonagall for permission to bring you over." Hagrid chuckled as he handed the box to Loren.

No wonder this confinement is so strange, suddenly switching from Filch to Hagrid.

Loren reached out and took the box. After all, it was his first alchemical creation, and the feeling of getting it back was quite nice.

"When Charlie's friend returned the box, he also talked about Norbert and the Fire Dragon."

"They said that even researchers in Romania might not be able to hatch Fire Dragon so successfully, let alone raise it to be so healthy." Hagrid tried his best to divert the young wizard's attention from the Dark Lord from earlier; that wasn't something they should be concerned with.

No one wanted to bring up the Fire Dragon again. Harry stared intently at Hagrid. "Remember what you said the night we first met?"

That night, Hagrid reprimanded the Dursley and revealed some things about what happened back then to Harry. He told Harry this.

"Some people say he's dead. I think that's pure nonsense. He probably doesn't have much humanity left, so it's impossible for him to die."

Loren, Hermione, and Ron listened silently to this astonishing news, trying their best to minimize their presence, wishing they could wear Invisibility Cloak cloak.

"Don't pay attention to what those Centaur say; they only care about the moon in the sky." Hagrid tried to laugh it off and avoid the topic.

"Hagrid, you know Snape is after the Sorcerer's Stone!" Harry, no longer wanting to listen to such nonsense, laid it all out. "Voldemort is his master, and he wants to use the Sorcerer's Stone to resurrect himself."

"Enough!" Hagrid was angry with himself. "This is none of your business. Fluffy has various professors setting up obstacles for him, and Professor Snape was involved too. He's not that kind of person."

"And Voldemort, you first-year wizards don't need to worry about him. Dumbledore will handle him."

Hagrid always believed in Dumbledore; with him around, no one could harm Hogwarts.

The atmosphere froze as the two men shouted at each other. Moonlight peeked through the dark clouds, and a gentle breeze ruffled their hair.

Upon reaching the Entrance Hall, Hagrid turned back.

Loren and the others stood on the steps, watching Hagrid walk back, his steps uneven in the white moonlight. The Half-Giant's figure seemed somewhat desolate.

Harry felt guilty about his tone just now, and opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.

"Get a good night's sleep, Hagrid!" Loren called out in a low voice.

"What?" Hagrid turned around awkwardly, his Amplifying Voice.

Harry was still in a daze when Hermione seized the opportunity and kicked him.

Harry was forced to react, waving his hands and shouting clearly, "Sleep well!"

"You too!" Hagrid's voice was tinged with laughter.

The four young wizards then entered and walked into the dimly lit corridor.

No one said anything, and no one apologized. But Harry just felt better, and even the events of the night didn't seem so bad anymore.

Harry wanted to talk about his scar; the moment he saw the Dark Lord, the pain almost made him lose consciousness.

That the Dark Lord is definitely connected to Voldemort. His scar hurt when he saw Snape at the school party. Harry believes this is one of the pieces of evidence against Snape.

But glancing at Loren beside him, he decided that he could only discuss this with Loren after Snape was brought to justice. He'd better wait until tomorrow and talk to Hermione and Ron alone.

"I still think Hagrid is amazing. Snape definitely couldn't beat him." Ron was still marveling at Hagrid's ferocious fighting prowess.

Hermione's face tightened. "We must practice magic more diligently, instead of just running away like we did today."

She and Loren had tried for a while, but then they gave up.

Loren was also reflecting on his actions. It seemed that since learning the Shield Charm and basic combat skills, he hadn't put much effort into improving his strength. Tonight, he didn't even have a chance to stay on the battlefield and fire a signal flare.

"Let's practice dueling with each other from now on." Harry also thought it was necessary; he never wanted to experience the feeling of flying through the air waiting to die again.

Ron was in high spirits. "How about we start a Duel Club and bring the other young wizards in?"

"It would be really cool if a lot of people practiced together."

"Older kids don't want to play with little brats. Among the first graders, besides us, the best one is probably Malfoy." Loren ruthlessly shattered his fantasy. "Do you want to drag him along?"

How could a first-grader possibly want to create a "Dumbledore's Army"?

In the original story, Harry only managed to build up a team after gaining enough prestige and facing both internal and external troubles. Right now, they're still seen as little kids by others, and probably not many people pay them any attention.

"Then it'll be just the few of us, the dueling club." Ron was still enthusiastic; he loved this kind of thing, it sounded really cool.

Ron's shadow danced in the lamplight. "Shall we give our dueling club a name?"

"How about the Far East Magic Nap Society?" Loren asked in a sleepy voice.

What does "Far East" mean?

"I can only understand the word 'magic'."

"Sleeping in broad daylight, are you referring to yourself?"

The boys' innocent voices blended into the dim candlelight, illuminating the shadowy road as they returned home late at night.

Snape hid behind the doorpost, his bloodless face and silk robes like marble and shadow, half pale and half dark.

His right hand was clenched tightly, a delicately designed button encased in his fist.

"These students always remind me of my youth, don't you think, Severus?" Dumbledore said with a smile, standing under a lamp.

Snape did not reply.

Dumbledore continued, "Loren is a good student, isn't he?"

I don't know if it refers to students at Hogwarts, or students in some other sense.

Snape didn't answer the question. "Did you think about what would happen today before you asked me to put pressure on Quirrell?"

Even when facing the greatest wizard of all time, he didn't hesitate to show a mocking smile, "Unicorn are wizards' friends."

The dim candlelight cast a faint glow behind Dumbledore, and in the shadows, Snape's mocking smile was clearly visible on his face and beard.

Dumbledore knew that Snape was unaware that Voldemort had possessed Quirrell and was hunting Unicorn to sustain his crumbling body. Perhaps Snape believed Quirrell was seeking evil power through the Unicorn.

But Dumbledore well that the two Unicorn had died because of his scheme. He hadn't acted, had no intention of doing so; it was just a moment of carelessness that had killed the two Unicorn.

Silence, a long silence.

A male dormitory in Gryffindor.

It was very late, and the young wizards, who had walked a long way tonight, were exhausted. Harry and Ron quickly washed up and went to bed.

A flash of silver light, and Loren's consciousness sank into another space.

In the bright Library, Flamel, wearing glasses, was reading "The Origins of Bel Canto and Hymns," looking like an old scholar.

"I thought you weren't coming tonight." Flamel's glasses perched on his nose, his head bowed, his gaze passing over the top of the lenses as he looked at Loren.

"I think tonight will be a bright day on Mars. Do you have anything to remind me of?" Loren asked.

"In fact, as I said, all interpretations must be made by yourself. Help from outsiders will introduce errors, and your disclosure of information will bring disaster to outsiders," Flamel said slowly, seemingly unconcerned.

It was as if he hadn't said anything at all; Loren gained nothing, withdrew from the Fantasy Book, and his figure disappeared from the spot.

The bright light in the Library dimmed, and ripples of light spread across Flamel's body, illuminating the surroundings.

Memories surged back hundreds of years; the Black Death, Hebrew scholar, and the Reformation were all distant things in history books.

What was Elizabeth I's sister's name again?

Flamel fell into thought, and the Library plunged back into darkness.

By the moonlight streaming through the window, Loren looked at the cover of the Book of Abraham in front of him.

The soft, yellowed Bark paper, the reflective brass rings, and the embossed marks on the paper are no different from before.

Turning to the title page, it was the same as before, with a chilling warning. Turning further, there was a snake devouring something on a staff, a snake on a cross, a snake in a spring. The illustrations were unchanged.

Loren could understand some of the text, which was mainly in Hebrew, but that was far from enough to interpret the entire book. He had read through the entire the Book of Abraham, but still found no changes.

But at some point, Neville's snoring stopped, and the even breathing of the others also ceased.

The once quiet dormitory fell silent without anyone noticing, and goosebumps crept up Loren's hands, back, and scalp.

He looked up abruptly, but the other people in the dormitory had vanished.

As Loren gazed at the empty dormitory, the colors rapidly faded.

The yellow patterns on the curtains, the black wooden bed, the white clouds on the quilt, and the silvery moonlight outside the window...

Everything in my vision was fading, rapidly turning black and white, except for the Book of Abraham in front of me.

A profound fear gripped Loren. Magic? When? He hadn't noticed at all.

He forced himself to calm down.

It's impossible that this book really changed Hogwarts. With Dumbledore around, nothing could steal the color from Hogwarts.

He didn't experience any teleportation sensation, unlike either Apparition or Portkey, which would cause intense discomfort. Furthermore, defensive magic within Hogwarts prevents spatial teleportation.

Most likely, he was unknowingly drawn into a fantasy world by the book.

If he doesn't wake up, his roommate will notice something is wrong with him by tomorrow at the latest and seek help from the professor.

In any case, he is still safe. Loren flipped through the book in front of him; the pictures and words remained the same as before, without any strange reaction.

Then we should look for the answer in this illusion.

Loren rolled out of bed and began to explore the strange space.

Slipping on my slippers, I walked around between the beds in the dormitory, the sound of my slippers rubbing against the floor particularly noticeable in the quiet space.

The dormitory had no other mystery besides losing its color. Looking out the window, not only the moonlight, but also the distant mountains and forests had turned into a deathly black, white, and gray.

They had to search the area outside the dormitory. Loren mentally prepared himself, pushed open the dormitory door, and went outside.

In an instant, the black, white, and gray tones transformed into a rainbow. The simple wooden door of the dormitory became an exquisitely decorated door adorned with gold paint, and the single door became one side of a double door.

This door originally led to the corridors of the Gryffindor Tower, but now Loren entered a magnificent Palace Hall.

The hall was empty, covered in pristine white marble and covered with deep red carpets. On the high platform in front, a golden throne stood.

A huge candelabra in the center of the dome emits a bright light, which, together with the candelabras on the four walls and corners, illuminates the entire hall without any shadows.

Looking around, there were no other exits; the Palace Hall was completely sealed off. He turned back and tugged at the door he had just been using, but it wouldn't budge; it was locked.

Loren didn't want to shout "Is anyone there?" because if there was someone there, then there was a problem.

All the clues point to that throne.

Loren strode forward, stepped onto the stairs, and examined the throne.

The exquisite craftsmanship depicts a lion lying down to rest, a girl playing a harp, and a knight carrying a lance and a shield.

Rubies, Sapphire, and various other exquisite gemstones are inlaid on it. Every detail showcases the prestige of the chair's owner.

The strangest thing is that there is a mirror on the throne cushion.

A delicate mirror, about half the size of a person.

The mirror faces downwards, and the back of the mirror is also made of gold and inlaid with various gemstones.

Loren carefully turned the mirror over, wanting to examine its surface.

"Giggle~"

A clear, eerie girl's laughter suddenly rang out, echoing throughout the palace.

Loren's pupils contracted; the reflection in the mirror was not his face, but a young girl wearing a crown.

The girl's skin was almost sickly pale, her full lips were bright red, and she stared straight into Loren's eyes.

The hall was silent, filled with eerie laughter, and the reflection in the mirror was not one's own.

Everything here was stimulating Loren's adrenaline.