Mary in the Mirror

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Loren stood frozen in place, holding the mirror in his hand, too afraid to move.

Seeing Loren's frightened and disheveled appearance, the girl in the mirror could no longer maintain her eerie laughter, and the sharp and sinister "giggle giggle" turned into "hahaha".

The girl's laughter became bright and pleasant; at least it wasn't so scary anymore.

Were you just playing a trick on me?

If it weren't for the fear of causing any serious trouble, Loren would have smashed the mirror on the ground and pulled out his wand to cast [Piercing Bolt] on her.

"No, I'll answer one of your questions," the girl replied, her smile fading.

Loren could still see a hint of smugness on her face, a look he knew all too well.

Loren looked at the girl in the mirror, and the girl looked back at Loren outside. For a moment, the conversation stalled.

After a long silence, Loren asked, "What's your name?"

"Are you sure you want to ask this question?" The girl tilted her head and frowned in doubt.

The girl's face, the little girl's expression and posture, but Loren always felt that the two were somewhat discordant.

"No, it was just out of politeness to ask a stranger's name." Loren slowly placed the mirror back on the chair, this time with the mirror facing outwards.

The girl gave a shy smile. "You can call me Mary."

"Hello, Mary. I'd like to know how to get out of here?" Loren said, moving his feet to get out of the mirror's reflection.

"That's not a problem. After I answer your question, you can leave on your own." Mary pouted.

Loren realized something was wrong; no matter where he walked, he was always directly in front of the throne, within the reflection of the mirror.

Looking back, the gate was directly behind him. So it wasn't the throne that was turning with him, but rather he was standing still.

Loren remained calm, pretending to think, "Any question is fine?"

Mary hesitated, looking down as if flipping through something.

Then she read out slowly and deliberately, "The standard for judgment lies in your question and my answer. The actions of both parties must be mutually agreed upon, that is, to provide effective answers to meaningful questions, but the answers are not result-oriented."

Loren stood there stunned for a moment, dazed. Was this some kind of neat, strict, and logically rigorous French clause? Was Magical Contract really this down-to-earth?

In that case, wouldn't it be possible to burn out the CPU of this artificial intelligence?

He thought for a moment, then tentatively asked, "What is the last digit of pi?"

"The question is invalid," Mary replied immediately.

So fast? Loren asked again, "If that statement is wrong, then is the statement before it right or wrong?"

Now it was Mary's turn to be bewildered. Loren couldn't see her hands, but Mary seemed to be counting on her fingers, muttering, "Right, wrong, no, right..." She counted on one finger for each word.

This scene did not last long; a moment later...

She lowered her head again, reading the obscure words, "The subject that makes the judgment is contained within the object that is being judged." She raised her head with a relaxed smile, "The question is meaningless."

Loren no longer found the place terrifying; the magical elements now had a scientific feel to them.

He had a whole host of questions on his mind and wanted to test Mary.

Seemingly sensing Loren's malice, Mary shrank back, feigning fear. "Don't waste your time unless you want to stay here forever."

Loren felt a little regretful, as he had just come up with a lot of classic paradoxes in his mind.

"How do you craft Sorcerer's Stone?" Loren finally remembered that he was interpreting the Book of Abraham.

Just as Mary was about to speak, Loren, remembering the neatly written terms, added: 'Please provide me with a refining method that is appropriate for my era, feasible, does not exceed my capabilities, and does not violate my moral standards.'

"Giggle!" Mary in the mirror looked like a little girl being amused. "You're right, but I can't answer that question."

That makes sense. If the method for crafting the Sorcerer's Stone were so easy to obtain, Nicol wouldn't have needed to seek help from Hebrew scholar.

Loren then carefully considered what questions to ask that would be helpful to him and that would provide concrete, realistic answers.

How to defeat Voldemort?

How to become powerful quickly?

Finally, he said slowly, "I want to know how to use Nicolas Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone to restore the Werewolf Bates and the Blood Cursed Beastman Nagini to normal human bodies."

"The question is valid." Mary smiled sweetly.

The girl's lips curled up from a slight pursing to an increasingly exaggerated curve, and her laughter became sharper and more piercing than before, but Loren could hardly hear it.

A buzzing sound filled the entire space.

The mirror began to shake violently, and the palace shook along with it, as if it were about to collapse at any moment.

Crack!

The mirror cracked open, and the laughter and vibrations ceased. Mary, reflected in the mirror, raised her right hand to her eyes, her face grim.

The first time Loren saw her hands, her fingers were long and slender, as pale as her face, and her nails were a scarlet blood color, almost flowing.

Mary's middle fingernail rested against the pad of her thumb. The girl's pale fingers, contrasted with her red nails, possessed an eerie beauty. With a flick of her finger, the nails made a crisp "click."

A drop of scarlet blood broke through the mirror and flew straight toward Loren's brow.

The world fell silent, save for the single drop of blood flowing, radiating an eerie light. Loren tried to dodge, but his body was stiff, and he could only watch helplessly as the blood dripped down.

Smack

The blood made a sound as it fell between Loren's eyebrows.

Whoosh!

The whole world shattered like a mirror into countless silver fragments.

Loren suddenly opened his eyes!

Before me was the curtain of a Hogwarts student's single bed. Through the gaps in the curtain, I could see the dark ceiling and the bright moonlight outside the window.

These things all had vibrant colors, and I could hear Neville's snoring and the soft breathing of my other roommates.

Everything that just happened felt like a dream.

Loren touched his brow; there was a cool sensation there. His fingertips touched a drop of something moist, but not sticky or slippery—definitely not blood.

By the moonlight, it appears transparent, like a water droplet.

An ancient book from countless millennia ago unknowingly led him into a dream world, and could even awaken him in the real world with a drop of water.

This was such magnificent magic that Loren felt a sense of awe.

After thinking back, I realized that no new memories had suddenly appeared in my mind, nor were there any answers to the questions.

Then he silently cursed Mary from earlier, reminding her that the agreement was mutual agreement, and both the question and the answer had to be true simultaneously. What a load of rubbish! Is blood the answer?

Loren entered the Fantasy Book to ask Flamel if this was normal.

The silver light swept past, and we arrived once again at the brightly lit Library.

"Flamel, I need to talk to you about the Book of Abraham," Loren called out.

"Didn't I tell you? Outsiders can't help, and you can't reveal information." Flamel's voice came from behind.

"Can an artificial intelligence really suffer such bad luck or be cursed?"

Flamel heard the term "artificial intelligence" for the first time and felt it was very apt. "Who knows about Ancient Magic, anyway?"

Loren choked up; he couldn't very well say he'd been poisoned and restarted, could he? "Then can you tell me about the circumstances surrounding Nicol's initial interpretation of this book?"

"Sorry," Flamel said, shrugging.