Ryan suddenly felt fortunate again. If not for the system, he would have plunged headfirst into this seemingly simple fairy tale. Familiar with the original story, he would have followed the simplest strategy—and might have ultimately encountered some indescribable force.
Of course, if he was merely being overly cautious, then as Peverell's heir, he himself would not have been stopped. He might even have become Death.
"Ryan, what are you looking at?" Kate tilted her head toward the cover of the book in his hands.
Reading while using the rest of his mind to ponder other matters had long become Ryan's habit.
"The Tales of Beedle the Bard." Ryan raised the book in his hand.
"Ah, I stopped reading that when I was five!" Kate proudly pulled out an unknown vampire novel.
Reading really was the best form of socializing between Ravenclaws.
Accompanied by the rustle of turning pages, Ryan deliberately relaxed and drifted off to sleep without realizing it.
Early the next morning, Ryan climbed out of bed, shoved aside Kate's foot that had somehow ended up in front of his nose, and, with a thought, changed into a brand-new wizard robe.
Wizard Robes were so convenient—loose-fitting, and you could wear anything underneath them.
Ryan sat in the bizarrely decorated common room and looked out the window. Outside, it was still gray and overcast.
As if sensing that someone had awakened, a steaming cup of black tea, chickpeas, bread, and roasted sausages appeared on the table.
Ryan took out The Daily Prophet beside the sofa and slowly read it over his simple breakfast.
When he flipped to page thirteen, the article featured, as usual, a photograph that made him physically uncomfortable: a woman wearing jewel-encrusted glasses, her blonde hair arranged into elaborate, stiff curls. Her teeth were bared in