Fiendfyre

The Gryffindor Common Room was empty; almost all the young wizards had gone to attend the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor to learn about Patronus Charm, leaving the huge common room to one person all to himself.

In the best spot in front of the fireplace was a chaise lounge, where the young wizard lay sleeping peacefully. His fine, black curly hair was slightly messy, and his long eyelashes fluttered from time to time. Although his face had not yet fully matured, one could already glimpse a hint of elegant and handsome temperament.

He held a strange, large, silver-white book in his hands. On the cover was a strange little picture of a mysterious wizard with gray hair and eyes that emitted a mysterious silver-white light.

If someone makes eye contact with him at this moment, the mysterious wizard might wink at the person, pulling them into a world full of strange magic...

Or perhaps it's a smelly Potions Room?

The flames inside the fireplace burned brightly, and occasionally a piece of firewood would crackle and pop, causing the flames to expand and create a warm wave.

A warm wave of heat washed over his face, and the little wizard couldn't help but smile with enjoyment. The silver light on the Book of Mystery dissipated, and Loren slowly opened his eyes.

"Liriodendron tulipifera resin... Full Moon Dew..."

He recalled the proportions he had just obtained from the Fantasy Book, confirmed the dosage of several key ingredients, and breathed a sigh of relief.

He can freely adjust the materials and environment within the Fantasy Book, and with the experience he gained from the Rafflesia last month, the time required to determine the dosage has been greatly shortened.

Now, we only need to wait until the middle of the month to start brewing the Leopard-skin flower version of Wolfsbane Potion.

Professor Lupin is out of danger.

"It went more smoothly than I expected... Merlin bless us."

Feeling the heat rising from the furnace, Loren smiled. He glanced at the wall clock; it was still a quarter of an hour before nine o'clock, and there should still be some time before the Patronus Charm course ended.

Staring at the fireplace, the crimson flames were as dazzling and bright as hydrangeas swaying in the wind... The lounge was quiet.

"Hermione hasn't come back yet..."

Loren's thoughts raced as he pondered once again the subject of Dark Arts and soul Magic Power.

What is the essence of Dark Arts, and how does it affect the soul?

Do those spells affect the soul as soon as they are practiced, or do they only work when used on people...?

What's the difference between the Unforgivable Curses and those evil spells that lie in the gray area?

Loren took out his wand and examined it closely. Apple Wood is a grayish-brown wood. During the process of making the wand, it was oiled and dried in the shade, making it appear even darker, unlike the clean white oak wand.

Under the bright firelight, every texture was very clear, revealing a uniform beauty.

He still remembered Mr. Ollivander's assessment of the wand: Apple Wood was suitable for duels, Phoenix Feather would unleash extraordinary potential.

A wand core made of Phoenix Feather has no bias problem, but one made of Unicorn Hair does. Unicorn are a symbol of purity, and wizards would find it difficult to use Dark Arts with a wand made of Unicorn Tail Hair.

Ron, Malfoy, Neville, Cedric, Lupin ... even Quirrell, none of the few people he knew who used the Unicorn Hair core seemed to exhibit this characteristic.

So what exactly is Dark Arts?

"The Sectumsempra is Dark Arts, Shattering Curse is too?" Loren murmured.

Crackling sound—

The firewood in the fireplace crackled, the flames leaped up, and the tongues of fire licked the red bricks outside the fireplace, adding another streak of black smoke.

Loren's eyes lit up; he thought of a Dark Arts that was perfect for exploring.

As he lightly touched the Fantasy Book, a silvery-white light flashed in the eyes of both Loren and the figures on the small picture, and he fell asleep again.

Flamel, sitting in the Library, wrinkled his nose instinctively at the young wizard who had suddenly appeared before him, and asked with disdain, "Didn't you already finish brewing the Potions? What are you doing back here?"

Loren looked at him with bright eyes. "Professor, I want to learn the Fiendfyre."

"Fiendfyre?" Flamel instinctively wanted to refuse, but then suddenly remembered something and fell into thought.

As Loren's personal professor, Flamel, ever since he realized that Loren would live a long life and that there was plenty of time in the future, began to take a relaxed approach to teaching—normal teaching, normal pace, no pushing or urging, no academic pressure on his children, and indulging in Muggle art.

He was always proud of Loren, a model student who was talented, intelligent, and academically gifted. However, recent events have caused Flamel a lot of headaches.

At first, they thought it was just a simple Soul Stone, but who knew that this child would accidentally discover the Magic Power hidden in the soul and become obsessed with exploring the soul.

Doesn't he realize that this is something a third-grade student could possibly figure out?

He even became fascinated with Secrets of Dark Magic because of it.

If they don't teach him, Flamel worries that he might learn on his own through his exceptional talent outside the classroom. The biggest problem is that, given Loren's abilities, he might actually be able to summon Fiendfyre.

Whether or not it can be controlled is another matter...

Considering the Fiendfyre's ability to burn anything and be difficult to extinguish, Flamel worried that Albus wake up one morning to find that Hogwarts Castle, a legacy passed down through generations of teachers and students for thousands of years, had been burned to the ground.

So, the virtual world of the Fantasy Book is indeed very suitable for practicing the Fiendfyre...

Besides, Fiendfyre is different from the Unforgivable Curses; it's not as evil.

Flamel paused for a moment, then waved his sleeve to change the scene to the Dueling Classroom, and nodded slightly to Loren: "Let me first explain the theoretical knowledge of the Fiendfyre to you."

So easy to talk to?

Loren was somewhat surprised; he had thought he was going to have a bit of a tug-of-war with Flamel.

"Fiendfyre, the word means the Fiendfyre from hell," Flamel explained solemnly. "It belongs to a branch of Transfiguration magic, and its invention and origin are unknown, but its power is deeply ingrained in people's minds."

"Wait a minute," Loren interrupted, "The Fiendfyre is actually Transfiguration?"

"Who wouldn't be surprised by this..." Flamel spread his hands. "In terms of type, Fiendfyre does indeed belong to the summoning category under Transfiguration, which also means that the casting difficulty of Fiendfyre is very low, and even an ungraduated junior wizard can cast it."

"But! Even Durmstrang Institute, renowned worldwide for its tolerance of Dark Arts, wouldn't dare to easily teach this spell to its students." Flamel stared seriously at Loren.

"As the old wizards say, it's easy to start a fire, but difficult to put it out."

A gray-white wand suddenly appeared in Flamel's hand. He held the wand in his right hand and tapped it towards his left palm, from which flowing flames emerged.

The incomparably bright crimson flames flowed smoothly across the field of vision, leaving a bluish-black shadow in their path—a stress response of the eyes to the intense light.

The dark blue shadows were quickly replaced by flames that followed, one after another.

Before the flames even began to spread, a scorching heat wave had already distorted the space, which Loren could feel even from a distance.

Flamel swiftly cut off the wand flame with his superb control, raised the burning flame in his palm, and breathed on the fireball.

Flames suddenly erupted, transforming into a colossal Hebridean Black Dragon, its wings adorned with skulls, and the membranes beneath the wing skeletons churning with incessant flames. The Fire Dragon opened its massive maw, squeezing the air with its intangible fiery throat, the distorted space emitting a shrill roar, and spewing forth endless pillars of fire from its ferocious mouth.

Flamel stood to the side, his virtual form appearing and disappearing. "After a successful summoning, the caster's wand will continuously flow with ever-growing magical fire. As the wand is waved, these flames can mimic the shapes of monsters, relentlessly hunting down almost anything that can burn, friend or foe..."

"Only when everything that can burn is consumed, leaving not a single speck of wood or ashes, will the flame extinguish itself. Throughout history, countless wizards have been wiped out by Fiendfyre. Therefore, although Fiendfyre can be forcibly extinguished with anti-spells and Counter-charms, people still deeply fear it."

Flamel flew to Loren's side and said in a deep voice, "Unless you are absolutely certain, do not summon Fiendfyre in the real world."

Inside the closed Dueling Classroom, the raging flames resembled a boiling sea, with towering crimson waves carrying unstoppable power as they surged and swept across...

With some time before lights out, torches in the corridors Gryffindor Tower illuminated most of the way. After thanking the Fat Lady, Hermione slipped into the Portrait Hole and entered the Common Room.

The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly. Hermione spotted the figure on the chaise lounge at a glance. She walked over in small steps. The person was breathing evenly, with a slight frown on his brow, and looked like he was sleeping restlessly.

I don't know why, but I always think he looks better when he's asleep.

Hermione smiled gently and reached out to smooth his furrowed brow.

The moment his fair fingers touched his brow, Loren opened his eyes, and Hermione saw a flame-like radiance in his pupils.

"You're back..." Loren brushed her hand away, looked at Hermione seemed to be in a daze, and waved his hand in front of her eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

"Yes, I'm back." Hermione replied, looking at his eyes with a questioning gaze, then turning to look at the fireplace behind her.

Is it the flame in the fireplace?

They seem a bit different.

"What topics did you discuss with the professor this time—the survival of humanity or the development of wizards?"

Loren kneaded the girl's fingers; they were white and tender, with a soft touch, especially the soft flesh between her knuckles. The skin was firm and elastic, but the flesh was soft and felt very good.

Hermione was speechless at the man's subtle actions, wondering when he had become so brazen.

Hermione pulled her hand away and gave him a light tap on the forehead. "Professor Babbling contacted me. I've finished learning the basic numbers of Ancient Rune, and she wanted to help me expand my knowledge."

"Just talk, why hit me..." Loren rubbed his forehead and muttered, "You're not happy about giving me a massage."

Loren held out his hand to her and said generously, "Then you can give me a massage."

Just as Hermione was about to give him a good massage, the Portrait Hole opened, and the young wizards entered the common room one after another, excitedly discussing the Patronus of the professors they had met that evening.

"I declare that Professor Lupin's Patronus is the coolest!"

"Professor Flitwick is the one!"

"That's right. Although he didn't reveal his physical Patronus, the radiance of his Patronus illuminated the entire Great Hall!"

"But Professor McGonagall can summon three Patronus Angels at the same time!"

"Isn't that an application of Transfiguration?"

"..."

Among the excited young wizards, Ron and Neville helped the weak Harry to the fireplace and laid him on a deckchair.

"What's wrong with Harry?" Loren asked.

Hermione looked over curiously.

Harry's expression was blank, his eyes unfocused, as if they had lost their light.

Ron lay back in his chair, panting, and waved for Neville to speak.

Neville paused, then said, "Professor Lupin had Harry demonstrate how to deal with the Boggart transformed into Dementor. Harry didn't keep his distance; he got too close, and then..."

He didn't finish speaking, but Loren and Hermione both knew that Harry was twice as weak to Dementor, so they could roughly guess what was going to happen next.

"In front of everyone in the Great Hall ..." Harry wailed, raising his hands to cover his face. Just thinking about the scene made Harry want to dig a tunnel through the ground to the Black Lake and sink himself to the bottom.

"I've already managed to summon some of the Patronus's Radiance..."

"I just wanted to get a little closer to demonstrate the power of the Patronus Charm..."

As Harry spoke, his voice grew softer and softer, sounding as if he were about to cry.

He just wanted to show off in front of Qiu Zhang.

Just as he was feeling down, Ginny suddenly appeared out of nowhere, clutching a box of Chocolate Frog, and said with a flushed face, "Harry, I have some more chocolate here, have some more."

Harry parted his fingers slightly and vaguely saw the red-haired girl glowing. "Thank you, Ginny."

Ginny handed over the Chocolate Frog, feeling a little lost. She fidgeted with the hem of her clothes, her mind racing, and finally found a topic to talk about. "Harry, is the Patronus Charm difficult? Professor Lupin said he doesn't recommend that younger students try it."

"It's alright, I think you can give it a try..."

"Ask me! Ask me!" Ron leaned in excitedly. "Professor Lupin said I learn faster than Harry!"

Harry nodded somewhat dejectedly. "Yes, the Dementor have a much smaller effect on Ron."

Who's asking you?

Ginny rolled her eyes in disdain and continued to pester Harry for more questions about spellcasting techniques...

Watching the three of them laughing and joking, Hermione nodded thoughtfully, then leaned over and whispered in Loren's ear, "Don't you think—"

"Shh!" Loren interrupted her by raising his index finger, then shook his head with a meaningful smile.

Hermione then smiled knowingly.

Late at night, in the girls' dormitory.

Hermione lay on the four-poster bed with her eyes tightly closed, her eyeballs darting rapidly beneath her eyelids. She was having a vague dream, a dream of a strange space.

It was a huge Library. The dome was brightly lit even though there were no lights on it. The bookshelves stretched out in neat rows, seemingly without end, and were densely packed with all kinds of books.

There are spells, Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology... and even rare Runes.

Further into the bookshelves, you'll find natural sciences, humanities and social sciences, drama and music...

For the little Witch, this was a perfect dream.

Hermione smiled, turned over, and drifted into a deeper, sweet dream.