Training the Soul

The measures Voldemort had left behind did lack a bit of imagination.

Of course, that was not his fault. From Jon's perspective, it seemed the entire magical world of Britain suffered from the same problem.

—Uh, the entire Western magical world suffered from it.

Their minds were too straightforward, without so many twists and turns. From Jon's perspective, their defenses were like an iron plate. It looked incredibly solid, impregnable, and covered a wide area, but if you looked closely, you would find countless welding cracks in that plate. Those cracks were where it could be broken through.

If any other wizard had come here, there would not have been so many issues. It was a simple matter: other wizards did not possess Jon's abilities, so they could not see the loopholes among the many anti-flight spells set up here. They could only follow Voldemort's design, obediently take a boat across, drink the potion, and trigger an attack by the Inferi. But Jon could find the loopholes.

He could be considered a top-tier master of Space Magic.

Crossing the lake was not difficult. The difficult part was taking what was in the basin away.

The potion inside had been infused with a powerful regenerative spell. Once drunk, it would reappear. And Jon could not possibly drink it. There was nothing wrong with his head; drinking this potion might have some effect on him. Even Dumbledore could not withstand its torment, so Jon was not arrogant enough to try.

But he had brought something useful.

After all, his only purpose was to take the potion out. He had no other plans, so he had brought a small water pump.

Since they had decided to promote the integration of magic and technology, technological tools could naturally be put to use. Purely physical