Chapter 43: “I’m Just A Child”


    Sean’s eyes trembled as the me before he flickered, and the voice in his mind grew increasingly tempting.


    “I can assist you—”


    “I can teach you how to control your power—”


    “I can grant you—”


    “Unparalleled glory—”


    Sean buried his head, struggling with the enticing offers. After a long pause, he managed to speak through the difficulty, “How can I trust that you’re not deceiving me?”


    The voice grew more assertive, “Have you seen this magical me? It produces an unending stream of Ashwinders. Its power is unlimited. This is the ultimate goal every wizard strives for eternity.”


    Sean’s confusion deepened as he murmured, “But how will you save me?”


    “Your emotions require a powerful magical vessel to bear them, and as a gift, this magical me shall serve as the cornerstone and starting point for your glory.”


    “What must I do…” Sean’s hands trembled, wanting to reach out and touch the me, yet hesitating.


    “Go on, touch it,” the voice grew increasingly seductive, “Open your heart to it, and imagine forging a connection between yourself and the me.”


    “Establish a magical bond, channel your thoughts into it, and then you shall attain the glory you seek.”


    Sean’s lips quivered, his face contorting uncontrobly.


    “Just as long as youmunicate through the power of magic…”


    “Yes, yes, that’s it, it’s that simple—”


    “Indeed…” Sean let out a breath, taking a few steps back. Trembling, he bowed slightly and ced a hand over his chest.


    “Thank you for your guidance,” he managed with a strained smile.


    While Sean’s eyes retained their cold and violent appearance, the confusion in his other eye vanished, reced by rity.


    Maintaining the demeanor of an aristocrat, he uttered less-than-pleasant words, “I may be young, but how could you deceive me in such a manner?”


    The magical blue me quivered slightly before violently shaking.


    The voice turned cold once more, the anger within bing uncontroble, “You… fine—”


    “Thank you for your kind words, but let us end this conversation. I have something to attend. Good night, um, Mr. Magic me?”


    Sean quickly retreated to the opposite end of the corridor, took a deep breath, and retrieved an item.


    He possessed a vessel capable of containing magical power—an egg adorned with turquoise patterns. Against the backdrop of the blue mes, its surface shimmered with fluorescence.


    “I rely on you…” Sean inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and ced his hand on the egg.


    “Establish a magical connection, forge a bridge, and open your heart…”


    His face contorted with pain and violence, his expression alternating wildly. The egg quivered gently in response.


    After a prolonged period, Sean finally opened his eyes.


    The white rings in his pupils gradually faded, and the cruelty and coldness on his face vanished.


    “It actually works.” Sean breathed heavily, astonished to find that all the uncontroble thoughts in his mind had dissipated.


    Exhausted, he leaned against the wall and tenderly touched the egg, which continued to sway gently.


    “You saved my life… If you manage to hatch, you shall be my brother, no, my son!” Sean raised his gaze and nced towards the end of the corridor, where the blue light still shed.


    However, he harbored no worries. If the figure had the ability to take action, how could he have allowed himself to be constrained?


    Yet Sean himself was rapidly running out of energy. His physical strength had been depleted to the point where he couldn’t even lift his wand.


    Sean regarded the burning blue mes beside him.


    Under Grindelwald’s enhancement, the most significant aspect of the spell was its controbility, though the term “controble” was rtive to each caster.


    With Sean’s current strength, reciting the spell for half a second would result in its effectssting for half an hour.


    He surveyed the infirmary, which the fire had almost consumed, and helplessly leaned against the wall.


    “I don’t have the energy to revert it now. Forget it. I’ll wait for Dumbledore to return.” Sean let out a breath and closed his eyes.


    —-


    “Um… Where am I?” Sean struggled to open his eyes and surveyed his surroundings.


    He found himself in a spacious circr room adorned with peculiar little trinkets emitting whimsical sounds. On a delicate-legged table, various odd silverware spun and emitted small puffs of smoke.


    The walls were adorned with portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses, all softly snoring within their frames. There was also a grand table shaped like a w in the room, and on a shelf at the back stood a worn and creased wizard hat—the Sorting Hat.


    “The Headmaster’s office?” Sean propped himself up slightly, realizing he was lying on arge red velvet cushion.


    “It seems you’ve awakened,” a gentle voice came from behind him.


    Sean turned his head and saw Professor Dumbledore smiling warmly.


    “Professor?” Sean blinked, recalled something, and asked, “How is everyone? The school, Percy, and the others?”


    Professor Dumbledore approached and sat on the stairs.


    “They are all well. Madam Pomfrey has regained consciousness, and Percy has received treatment,” he moved his fingers.


    “The castle suffered some damage, but fortunately, no one else was harmed. We only need to repair the castle.” As he spoke, he raised his hands as if he had encountered something genuinely delightful.


    Sean couldn’t help but grin. Everyone was okay. He was relieved by that information.


    “Honestly, I should have taken you to the infirmary, but…” Professor Dumbledore shrugged, “It’s in ruins now, and I can’t ce where only stone walls are left.”


    “Ruins?” Sean’s mouth gaped open, suddenly overwhelmed by guilt.


    Professor Dumbledore nodded. “The cause of the incident left behind a blue me originating from the Protego Diabolica. Even I had difficulty handling it. In the end, I could only contain it within a certain range.”


    He then spread his hands, a touch of sorrow in his voice. “Poor Madam Pomfrey nearly fainted again when she saw the state of the infirmary.”


    Professor Dumbledore didn’t mention Sean’s spell. Sean blinked, realizing that the Headmaster must have known it, but he chose not to say it since he hadn’t brought it up.


    “And what about Professor Kettleburn?”


    “About him,” Professor Dumbledore’s expression turned serious. “Silvanus is currently under the Imperius Curse and has yet to awaken.”


    “As for the mastermind behind the incident, it is likely a radical pure-blood wizarding organization.”


    “They call themselves the Death Eaters.”