Silan woke after getting three hours of sleep.
The night outside the window hung in the sky like a pale blue curtain, with the faint sunlight lifting one corner of it in the distance.
After getting up, Silan tidied himself up, took out a quill, and began copying down the Soul Magic from his memories.
To prevent this knowledge from leaking, Silan copied only one page at a time. After translating it and memorizing the translation, he destroyed all the originals.
After working for an hour or two, Silan went downstairs.
The ground floor was empty. Arthur was the only one there, reading the newspaper, and Sirius's photo was still on its pages.
Every issue of The Daily Prophet now carried his photo and constantly updated its reports on him, though almost all of them were negative.
For example: "Minister Fudge stated that Azkaban's guards have been deployed, and Sirius will not remain arrogant for much longer."
"Sirius is suspected of attacking a shop, with all valuables inside swept away."
Clearly, Sirius's escape had thrown the Wizarding World into a panic on one hand, while on the other, it had prompted real criminals to take advantage of the situation and pin their crimes on him.
"Good morning, Silan." Arthur, whose eye sockets were deeply sunken, greeted him. He seemed not to have slept well last night.
"Good morning."
The two had barely exchanged a few words when several people suddenly burst in through the door, bringing a gust of wind with them.
The man in front wore a bright green velvet suit and looked about Arthur's age.
"Ryder, what are you doing here?" Arthur put down the newspaper and asked in surprise.
The wizard in the bright green suit discreetly glanced at Silan but did not speak immediately.
"He's one