To be honest...
Ever since Ian got involved with that Female Titan.
He hadn't enjoyed such a peaceful night in a long time.
A long-lost, pure sense of "peace" enveloped Ian. This was the first truly unburdened rest he had experienced since stepping into the Cthulhu Dream and undergoing a series of irrational battles and devouring. His body relaxed, his mind soothed, as if a tremendous burden had been lifted. He didn't need any additional sleeping Potions or spells. This simple, safe, and comfortable environment alone was enough to lull him into the deepest sleep.
"Whoosh whoosh whoosh~"
My eyelids grew heavy, and the soft glow of the wall lamp blurred and diffused in my field of vision.
then.
The Legend of Hogwarts, the terminator of the old, slept soundly in an ordinary Muggle hotel in London on Halloween eve in 1979.
Time passed little by little.
Morning light filtered through the gaps in the heavy velvet curtains, sparingly casting a few pale golden patches on the carpet.
London mornings are characterized by their characteristic damp chill, and even in well-soundproofed hotel rooms, one can faintly hear the sounds of the Street outside gradually waking up.
The distant hum of vehicles, the occasional chirping of birds, and the rustling of Street sweepers. Ian Prince awoke in an unusually tranquil, saturated state. There were no nightmares, no dizziness from the turbulence of time and space, and no initial palpitations from the increase in power. Only the abundant vitality of his body and mind after a deep sleep, and a heavy sense of stability and control belonging to the Legend realm.
He didn't even need to perform morning meditations or Magic Power energy manipulations like ordinary Wizard; the power within him, which combined the two authorities, flowed and balanced naturally like breathing, becoming one with his very being.
"Ah! I feel so refreshed!" Ian lay quietly for a while, closing his eyes, letting the last vestiges of sleep and fragments of his dream recede like the tide. The dream... he seemed to have had a very long dream. The dream wasn't bizarre or fantastical; on the contrary, it was exceptionally clear and warm, filled with ordinary details. He dreamt of the Great Hall of Hogwarts, with floating candles and a starry ceiling, a long table piled high with sumptuous food, and students in their house robes chattering all around him.
He sat at the long table in Gryffindor, surrounded by several classmates whose faces were indistinct but who seemed friendly. They were debating Quidditch tactics, sharing jokes, and complaining about homework. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of Pumpkin Juice and the smoky scent of toasting bread. Then the scene shifted, and he was by the warm fireplace in the library, flipping through a A History of Magic that could bite. Madam Pince's stern gaze swept over him, and he made a face at the librarian.
"Ugh, anything else is fine, but I dreamt I was a Gryffindor, that was a nightmare." Ian changed his tune from saying he didn't have nightmares.
For Ravenclaw students, becoming Gryffindor is truly a nightmare.
Of course, besides these, in the dream there was also Ian watching the Giant Squid lazily waving its tentacles by the Black Lake, a gentle breeze rippled across the lake, carrying the fresh scent of water and grass.
That was Hogwarts in the Harry Potter era, a time when "fairy tales" had not yet been completely shrouded in the darkest shadows, and everyday life still shimmered with fragments of joy and hope. It was a silhouette of the era he experienced at the beginning of his journey and ultimately protected as the " Raven." The dream was so real that even after he woke up, the rich taste of Butterbeer from the dream seemed to linger on his tongue, and the flapping wings of Owl and the carefree laughter of his classmates still echoed in his ears.
"I was thinking about Hogwarts, I know. What you think about during the day, you dream about at night." Ian slowly opened his eyes, gazing at the exquisite but slightly outdated plaster patterns on the ceiling. After the initial disorientation of waking, a very faint, almost transparent melancholy, like the morning mist outside the window, quietly permeated his heart. That era... has passed. At least, on this Timeline, it has not yet arrived, or rather, it is brewing in another, perhaps more difficult, way.
In the Wizarding World of 1979, Voldemort's shadow loomed over everyone like the darkest cloud.
Hogwarts may still be a bastion, but that relatively relaxed atmosphere, focused on learning and growth, has likely been greatly diminished. "We can't go back to that for now..."
He sighed silently.
certainly.
The melancholy, like ripples on the water, quickly subsided.
"Damn Titan!" Ian sat up and threw back the soft down comforter. The cold air against his skin made him even more alert. Today he had things to do.
He got up and drew back the curtains. The pale sunlight streamed in, illuminating the room. The courtyard remained quiet. He washed up briefly and changed into a clean and neat set of casual clothes—still predominantly dark-colored, simple in style but of superior quality, clothes he had "generated" last night using Transfiguration Spell in conjunction with spare items from the Undetectable Extension Charm.
After carefully putting away the small oil painting from last night, Ian went downstairs to the dining room for breakfast.
The hotel breakfast is a typical English buffet. The selection isn't particularly extensive, but it's substantial enough: fried eggs, sausages, bacon, baked beans, roasted tomatoes, mushrooms, and black pudding.
There are also various cereals, yogurt, fruits, and toast. Beverages include coffee, tea, and juice.
"This stuff is awful." Ian wisely avoided the black pudding and instead took some fried eggs, sausages, roasted tomatoes, and a few slices of whole-wheat bread, and poured himself a cup of hot black tea.
The restaurant wasn't crowded; most of the patrons were business travelers, quietly dining and reading newspapers. The atmosphere was peaceful, like a Parallel Universe to the tension of the magical world.
"Smack, smack."
Ian slowly enjoyed his breakfast; the taste was average, but the hot food was comforting.
As he ate, he listened to two middle-aged men at the next table discussing " Mrs Thatcher," "labor unions," and "the economic situation" in hushed tones. The troubles of the Muggle World were just as concrete and real.
"They even provide newspapers, that's nice."
Ian picked up a copy of the Times left on the table and quickly scanned the front page and some sections to further confirm the atmosphere of Muggle society in this era.
After breakfast, he felt full of energy. It was time to explore the magical world of "this world".
After much deliberation, he decided to disguise himself and head to the Leaky Cauldron first. It was a hub of information, and although he might encounter Death Eater spies or fanatics, his current strength and disguise were more than enough to handle them. Perhaps he could even piece together a clearer picture of the situation from rumors or newspapers. Once outside, Ian basked in the thin sunlight. The streets of London were much brighter in the morning than the previous night, but the sky remained overcast, with low-hanging clouds seemingly brewing another rain.
The air was crisp and cool, and pedestrians hurried along.
"If I remember correctly, it's over there."
Ian determined his direction and headed towards Charing Cross Road. He walked slowly, like a true tourist, occasionally stopping to look at the shop windows.
Or observe the architectural style and details of the streets.
Ian mentally reviewed some common knowledge about this era, adjusted his mindset, and prepared to approach the issue from the perspective of a "young Wizard who has just returned to the United Kingdom, is not very familiar with the situation, but has some ability."
However, Destiny —or rather, the chaos and danger unique to the Wizarding World of this era—did not seem to intend to give him the opportunity to slowly adapt and quietly infiltrate. Just two blocks from the hotel, as he turned onto a relatively wide main street lined with old-fashioned brick buildings and retail shops, a sudden change occurred!
"Boom!"
About fifty meters ahead, at the intersection of the sidewalk and the roadway, a piercing cracking sound suddenly rang out in the air, as if glass had been shattered by an invisible force! Immediately afterward, two figures, accompanied by distorted light and flying debris, stumbled out from a suddenly torn fold of space! Then, they crashed heavily onto the wet asphalt road!
"Um?"
Ian narrowed his eyes.
It's Wizard!
Apparition Error?
No, it was a forced displacement during combat!
He immediately made the most accurate judgment.
One of the figures wore a heavy black travel cloak, the hood of which was lifted slightly during the vigorous movement, revealing a pale, distorted male face filled with shock and rage. A ghastly green light was shooting from the tip of his wand— the Killing Curse! But the light was unstable, clearly indicating that the spell was being interfered with.
The other figure appeared much more disheveled, wearing a slightly worn dark green robe; he was a middle-aged wizard with gray hair and a terrified expression. "Damn Death Eater!"
He tumbled and rolled awkwardly, narrowly avoiding the off-track green light. The light struck a cast iron lamppost by the roadside. The lamppost didn't explode; instead, it instantly lost all color and vitality, crumbling and collapsing like a stone weathered for millennia, raising a cloud of dust as it hit the ground.
" Jorkins! You stubborn Rat! Hand over the stuff!" the Black Robe Wizard roared, his voice Transfiguration by excitement and bloodlust. He raised his wand again, this time unleashing a blazing red beam of light—a Reductor Curse —directed at the wizard known as Jorkins, who had just risen to his feet. Jorkins frantically waved his wand. " Protego!"
A semi-transparent barrier barely blocked the Reductor Curse, but the enormous impact still sent him staggering backward, knocking over a small wooden stand displaying flowers by the roadside, scattering petals and dirt all over the ground.
" Stupefy!" " Crucio!" " Confringo!"
The light of the spells began to flash, collide, and explode wildly across the Muggle Street! The Death Eater were clearly unrestrained, their attacks ruthless and deadly. While Jorkins appeared panicked, his combat experience seemed considerable; he struggled to hold on, using the Shield Charm, Impediment Jinx, and Disarming Charm for defense and limited counterattacks. The two were temporarily evenly matched, their spells exchanging blows, shattering the sidewalk tiles! "Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!!" Shop windows shattered, and car alarms were triggered, blaring piercing sirens.
This sudden, supernatural battle, far beyond the comprehension of Muggle, instantly plunged the Street into utter chaos!
"My God! What is that?!"
"Explosion? Terrorist attack?!"
"Run! Get away from them!"
"My shop! My shop window!"
Terrified screams, cries, and curses erupted instantly. The once orderly flow of people scattered like an anthill that had been blown apart, fleeing in panic.
They pushed and shoved each other, fell over, and scattered their belongings all over the ground.
"Sizzle!"
There were also cars braking suddenly, and drivers staring dumbfounded at the inhuman battle ahead. Some tried to reverse and escape, but this only caused more congestion and collisions.
"Oh God! Who are they?!"
Chaos reigned, and fear spread like a tangible plague through the air. To make matters worse, the two Wizard were locked in fierce combat, oblivious to their surroundings. The aftershocks of their spells and the flying debris and glass rained down like deadly stray bullets, mercilessly striking the fleeing crowds and vehicles. A veiled beam of Cutting Curse light swept across, slicing a corner off the roof of a car as easily as a hot knife through butter, terrifying the driver inside.
A thick stone slab, blasted away by Reductor Curse, hurtled towards the back of a young mother holding her child who was unable to dodge in time.
Several sharp shards of shop window glass rained down on a few elderly customers who were crouching shivering at the shop entrance.
"Stop! You madman!" To avoid a Killing Curse, Jorkins scrambled to the side. The spot where he had been standing was struck by the curse, creating a large crater. Flying rubble and asphalt blocks covered a large area like shrapnel. Just then, several young people who looked like students were trying to climb over the overturned bicycles to escape.
"Tsk." Ian stood at a street corner a little further away, taking in the whole scene. He didn't even frown much, only a very slight sense of helplessness and absurdity crossed his mind.
"I haven't even gone out of my way to find you... how come you've already come all this way without asking me?" He muttered to himself, his tone calm and revealing little emotion.
But his gaze had become focused and sharp.
Without the slightest hesitation, just as the deadly rubble was about to strike the young mother, shards of glass about to pierce the old man's body, and hail of asphalt about to engulf the group of students...
Ian raised his hand. Without drawing his wand, he merely traced a few invisible lines in the air with his fingertips, extremely lightly and swiftly. There was no burst of light, no incantation.
But time, as if centered around those few "key points," experienced an extremely subtle, localized, and precise "stagnation" and "deflection." The heavy stone slab flying towards the mother's back trembled slightly in the air, as if it had struck an invisible, highly elastic, soft air cushion. Its flight path was forcibly raised by an inch, grazing the mother's hair and the edge of the child's swaddling clothes, before flying past with a "whoosh" and crashing into the deserted sidewalk behind, shattering into several pieces.
Those deadly shards of glass, less than half a foot from the terrified faces of the elderly, abruptly changed direction, colliding with each other and clattering as they fell to the ground at their feet, shattering even more, but no longer causing harm.
The gravel and asphalt that rained down on the students like shrapnel seemed to encounter an invisible, tilted shield in mid-air. The vast majority were cleverly deflected and neutralized, bouncing off into the open space and walls nearby. Only a very few small fragments, their force greatly reduced, struck them. "Ah!"
It elicited a few cries of pain, but no longer posed a fatal threat.
Everything happened so fast, so secretly. To the panicked crowd and the two Wizard locked in fierce combat, the deadly aftershocks seemed to have just "luckily" brushed past them, or been averted by some incredible coincidence. Only a very few people, in their extreme fear, still managed to maintain a sliver of observational ability, perhaps vaguely sensing that the trajectories of those flying objects were "a bit strange," but there was simply no time to ponder it deeply.
Avada Kedavra!
The Death Eater continue their rampage with impunity.