Mysterious Collection

Hoffa headed back. Since he didn't have Quidditch class, he still had plenty of time. He planned to find a few books in the library. If he was lucky, he might even find something about the Disillusionment Charm.

If he wanted to be the one laughing in the end, to pursue his own freedom and happiness in this magical world, strength was indispensable. And the quickest way to gain strength was to develop the system. But the only wizarding secret realm Hoffa could explore right now was Hogwarts. His most urgent task, therefore, was to find a way to cast the Disillusionment Charm.

To return to the castle library, he first had to cross the school grounds. The grounds lay between Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest and the castle: a vast green lawn stretching for several kilometers, like an unfurled emerald carpet. The breeze rustled through the grass.

Halfway there, Hoffa suddenly noticed many magical runes on the ground. They were arranged neatly and gave off a faint blue glow.

They seemed to form some kind of functional magic array.

A magic array on the lawn?

Curious, Hoffa kept walking as he looked.

Suddenly, he spotted more than a dozen figures gathered in the distance. Judging by their clothes, they were upperclassmen from Hogwarts. They seemed to be discussing something loudly. Since Hoffa had taken a shortcut, he happened to pass right by them. As he drew closer, he stopped to watch for a moment.

The upperclassmen's argument grew louder and louder.

"Are we supposed to just die here?"

"Who the hell did this?"

"For several days in a row..."

"Why hasn't the Ministry of Magic sent anyone yet?"

"Headmaster Dippet said he would handle it personally."

Hoffa walked behind several upperclassmen and craned his neck to look. Behind them, the once-neat rune array had been blasted open by a massive gap. Turf had been thrown everywhere, and the ground was covered in jagged craters and gouges.

This was... a teleportation array! Hoffa was secretly shocked as he remembered.

Headmaster Amando had mentioned it at the opening feast... [The Ministry of Magic has established a dedicated teleportation point on the school grounds. Students in sixth year and above may, after receiving approval, travel to special Ministry of Magic facilities for Auror training.]

The upperclassmen beside him were still arguing, their expressions anxious. Most were worried that they would be unable to complete their schoolwork and assignments.

"I don't have enough credits already. What am I supposed to do?"

"I've got it worse than you. If I can't finish this assignment, I might not even graduate this year!"

"Can't we use some other way to get to the Ministry of Magic? Do we have to use the teleportation array?"

"No. Didn't you hear Headmaster Dippet? Everything is to be arranged by the school."

After listening for a while, Hoffa found a silent upperclassman standing with his arms folded and quietly asked, "Excuse me, what are you doing here?"

The upperclassman lowered his head and saw Hoffa, who only reached his ribs.

He immediately crouched down and whispered, "What year are you in? What are you doing here?"

"I'm a first-year. I just happened to pass by," Hoffa said. "Isn't this the Ministry of Magic's teleportation point?"

"It is," the upperclassman said worriedly. "Unfortunately, some unknown person destroyed it, so none of us can teleport out for our internships."

Destroyed the teleportation point...?

Hoffa thought that someone had a lot of nerve.

He wanted to ask more, but suddenly, several figures strode over from the distance.

The upperclassman hurriedly gave Hoffa a push.

"Get out of here! Professor Gorshak is coming. Don't let him see you here!"

Hoffa looked over and sure enough, saw a figure in bronze-colored robes. Thinking of how strict that man was, he shuddered and immediately circled back to Hogwarts from the other side of the grounds without looking back.

To Hoffa, it was only a minor incident. Whoever had destroyed the teleportation array had nothing to do with him.

Once back at Hogwarts, Hoffa headed straight for the library. His system exploration progress was still stuck at 0.5%. He had not even explored one percent of Hogwarts. He had to learn invisibility or stealth as quickly as possible.

The library contained tens of thousands of books and hundreds of narrow aisles. Rows upon rows of bookshelves towered overhead, and some students had to use ladders to reach the books high above.

There were no first-year students here, only upperclassmen researching information and writing papers. Wizards like Hermione were rare, after all. First-years did not have much schoolwork, and they were young and playful, so few came to a place like the library.

Previously, Hoffa had always searched for the Disillusionment Charm among the spell books, but he had already gone through most of the beginner spell section accessible to lower-year students.

After searching another round, Hoffa began to feel disappointed.

He had not found the word "invisibility" in a single table of contents.

His luck had been poor lately. According to the law of conservation of character, perhaps his little bit of talent for Transfiguration had used up all his luck.

Hoffa thought for a while. The school had to be explored, and the school rules could not be followed completely. But he absolutely could not get caught.

So aside from invisibility, was there another way?

After thinking for a while, Hoffa suddenly remembered the Marauders—the group Harry Potter's father and Sirius had belonged to.

They were also maniacs when it came to breaking school rules, but aside from the Invisibility Cloak, another important reason they could get away with it was that they were Animagi.

Hoffa saw a ray of hope.

That was right—Animagi. If he could not become invisible, he could turn into a small animal instead. He could still explore the school that way. And didn't he happen to have some talent for Transfiguration?

Once the thought arose, it was hard to suppress. Besides, Hoffa was now very interested in Transfiguration. He left the spell section and went to the area where Transfiguration books were kept.

The Transfiguration section was next to Potions and took up a large area. Still, there were not many books that first-year students could use as references.

Hoffa pulled out several books that interested him: Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, The Transformation of Matter and Magic, Basics of Rapid Transfiguration...

After reading several in a row, Hoffa found them rather dull. Everything in them was already in the textbooks, and they did not explain it as well as Dumbledore did. Perhaps only someone like Filch would read them.

Still unwilling to give up, he kept flipping through more books. Some could teach him something. Others could not.

As he turned the pages, Hoffa lost track of where he was. Absorbed in knowledge, he wandered deeper and deeper into the library.

Suddenly, a faint whisper drifted into his ear.

"Look at me."

"No."

"Look at me instead."

"I have the most knowledge."

"No, no, I have even more knowledge."

"But mine is more useful."

Hoffa suddenly looked up, only to find that there was no one around him. All the books lay obediently on their shelves.

Yet the murmuring voices in his ears were still arguing.

"Don't listen to him."

"Don't listen to him."

"Come, child."

"I can make you glorious."

"Glorious?"

"Do you read books for glory, fool?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

"Short-sighted."

"Knowledge itself is desire."

"Oh!"

"Damn it!"

"Shut up, all of you."

"Let him choose for himself."

They continued whispering, and Hoffa's eyes widened.

These books were... arguing?

Why could he hear the voices of books? Did... every wizard experience this?

He did not understand, so he moved a little closer out of curiosity.

The books' clamorous voices became even denser. They constantly belittled the other books and praised themselves, as if they were all trying to sell themselves to him.

Hoffa slowly walked along the shelves. Then he noticed a thick, old book wedged sideways into a cabinet on the third row.

Instinctively, he felt that book suited him perfectly.

While all the other books were bickering, this one was completely silent. It seemed to radiate an inexplicable confidence.

So he pulled out the thick book, which was as large as his chest.

"Oh, damn it."

"Good luck."

"Heh heh, another one."

"I'm out of here, I'm out of here."

The moment Hoffa made his choice, the surrounding books muttered among themselves before finally falling silent.

Hoffa carefully examined the confident book. Its cover was made from the hide of some unknown creature. It felt strange to the touch, as if it still carried a faint scorched smell.

The book seemed to have been burned. Faded silver letters sprawled messily across its cover.

Dissect All Things, Structure Is King

Author—Morgan le Fay.

What an arrogant title. Hoffa curled his lip.

He opened the book, and with just one glance, he was drawn in.

On the page was a precise, full-body anatomical diagram of a lion. Every angle was shown, from its fur to its nerves to the flow of magic within it.

Below the illustration, it read: [The foundation of Transfiguration is understanding. There is no difference in magical power between transforming into a cat and transforming into a lion. The only difference is whether you understand the target of transformation deeply enough. If you want to transform into a cat, you must understand cats deeply enough. If you want to transform into a lion, you must understand lions deeply enough. The same is true for an Animagus...]

Hoffa's breathing quickened. This book seemed to have seen straight through his thoughts. It came right to the point, completely unlike those gaudy books outside that danced around the subject.

Without hesitation, Hoffa turned the page.

The second page depicted a huge eagle, again displaying every bone and every feather in exquisite detail.

[Using magic to travel back and forth between subject and object, the greatest difficulty is not understanding the target, but understanding oneself deeply. Those who cannot dissect themselves deeply can never become true masters of Transfiguration...]

Hoffa was stunned by the passages in the book. To him, they were like the tolling of a great bell, thunderous and enlightening.

He was just about to turn another page.

Suddenly, a gray-bearded librarian sprang out and snatched away the magic book Hoffa had been reading so eagerly. "Hey! Kid, do you have a professor's signature?"

Hoffa's anger flared at first, but then he saw the large scarlet words above him: [Restricted Section]. Only then did he realize that he had broken the school rules. Entering the library's Restricted Section required a professor's signature.

Seeing that Hoffa said nothing, the librarian planted his hands on his hips.

"You come to the upper-year section looking for books without a signature? What if the magic in one of these books backfires? Whose responsibility is that? Mine or yours? Move, move, move...!"

Waving a feather duster, he shoved and herded Hoffa out of the library.

Standing at the library entrance, Hoffa irritably kicked a nearby Roman column as hard as he could. He was full of resentment. My luck really is terrible lately. When things go bad, nothing works out.

There was nothing worse than being interrupted when he was enjoying a book. If that old man had come a little later, perhaps he would have discovered the secret to Animagus transformation.

After brooding for a while, Hoffa began considering a solution.

He had to get that book. But Hogwarts had so many damn rules—where was he supposed to get a professor's signature?

At that moment, he could not help thinking of the original story again. Harry and Hermione had entered the Restricted Section in their second year to find the Polyjuice Potion recipe. But they had run into that idiot Lockhart. Who was he supposed to ask for a signature now? Dumbledore was definitely out; that man was too clever. Gorshak was even less of an option. That strict old man did not go easy even on his own granddaughter.

With a worried expression, Hoffa left the library and found that it was already completely dark. Without realizing it, he had spent too long inside.

A wave of hunger hit him, and he hurried toward the Great Hall. He had already missed mealtime and could only hope that there was still some food left.

Unfortunately, when he returned to the Great Hall, there were only a few scattered people, and the tables held nothing but leftover desserts.

Hoffa thought that he was truly unlucky today.

After eating a little dessert, Hoffa returned to Ravenclaw's common room empty-handed and still hungry.

The common room was unusually noisy. A group of children were eagerly discussing Quidditch.

At the center of the crowd was silver-haired Argeleia. Her outstanding flying talent had earned everyone's admiration and praise. They gathered around her as though she were the moon surrounded by stars, and many kept asking her about flying techniques.

The moment she spotted Hoffa entering the common room, Argeleia raised her voice, proudly instructing her admirers on their flying problems like a little swan.

"Jillen, you bend too much at the waist. Your center of gravity leans too far forward. It would be a miracle if you could fly well."

"William, you're holding the handle wrong. The natural motion is to control direction with your left hand and swing the bat with your right. If you keep controlling direction with your right hand, you'll lose horribly in a match."

"Taylor, you did well today, but I can see you're still somewhat afraid of flying. Don't be afraid of flying. You're not a Muggle. Unlike someone..."

When she said "someone," she raised her voice again. The implication could not have been clearer.

Hoffa ignored her completely, treating her words as nothing but farting. Since he could not meditate in the common room, he planned to return to his dormitory and meditate on his bed.

But just as he was about to head upstairs, Miranda squeezed out from the crowd and grabbed him.

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you forever."

"What is it?"

Hoffa asked flatly.

"Didn't you eat tonight?"

Miranda took out a paper-wrapped bundle. Hoffa accepted it and saw that it contained food. Though it was only a few chicken legs and some bread, his heart felt warm.

He took the slightly cold food and stuffed it into his mouth. Miranda comforted him beside him.

"It doesn't matter if you can't fly. I can't fly well either. In half a month, our house will have its first Quidditch match against Gryffindor. Are you going to watch?"

Hoffa fell silent. After what had happened today, he truly had little interest in Quidditch. Miranda had even come specifically to comfort him. Was she afraid he would be upset? She really was a kind girl.

But Transfiguration was all Hoffa could think about now. He truly had no interest in this nonsense.

Still, since Miranda had asked, he could not refuse her outright. So he nodded perfunctorily. "Sure. Why wouldn't I go watch?"

Miranda leaned close to Hoffa's ear and whispered, "Argeleia was chosen as the reserve Seeker for our house Quidditch team. Next week, the team's official Seeker happens to be going to the Ministry of Magic for Auror training. If you can cheer for her just once, I think it would be a good chance for you two to put aside your differences."

Reserve Seeker, Argeleia! Cheer for her so they could put aside their differences?

Heh. Hoffa felt as though his intestines were twisting together. He felt sick, as if he had eaten a pile of wild shit.

Miranda really had a scheme. She gave him food first, then asked him to show support. If she had told him the second piece of news directly, he would not have agreed to watch the Quidditch match even if he were beaten to death. Had she seen through his soft-but-not-hard personality?