In the next mont, Minerva McGonagall "woke" within a boundless, white space.
She first felt a wave of slight discomfort and confusion. Instinctively, she moved her arms, only to find that the restraints had vanished. Looking around, she realized the white space wasn’t formless; it resembled an endless prairie—only, the grass was white, the low shrubs were white, and even the sky was white.
Though she herself didn’t know how she could distinguish one white from another.
Then, McGonagall looked down and found herself wearing a green plaid robe—her favorite one from her wardrobe.
"Professor."
In the next mont, a familiar voice sounded beside her. McGonagall turned her head just in ti to see William’s figure being outlined from nothingness, slowly solidifying, and then standing beside her. He looked no different from his real-world self, except for the faint glow surrounding him.
"William? This is..."
"The depths of consciousness; you should have seen my magic—" William explained, yet his gaze went past McGonagall, looking behind her, "Without weaving any dream, soone caught by magic enters their own consciousness space, reflecting their inner self—You really do like lions; I can see Kilimanjaro."
Thus, McGonagall followed his gaze and looked behind her.
The next second, she involuntarily gasped, contributing to global warming.
Originally, the white was only on one side that she faced, and now, as she turned back, a boundless blackness t her gaze.
This black wasn’t simply the absence of light. McGonagall could still make out flowers, trees, and even the peak William ntioned—Africa’s highest. This darkness felt like a living "deathly silence," sullen and formless yet visibly invasive, slowly, slightly spreading, emitting a nauseating scent.
The dividing line was right under the woman’s feet, a world of half-white, half-black, forming an extrely eerie contrast.
"This... this is..."
McGonagall felt her soul trembling uncontrollably. This feeling made her very uncomfortable and she almost intuitively realized that the term "qualified person" was rely an excuse previously spoken by the opponent——
"Hm, that is Hecate. Clearly, she doesn’t intend for a temporary stay but aims to completely occupy this ’house.’
William’s voice remained calm, "Hecate, the witch goddess symbolizing night from the Netherworld—judging by her stance, she looks quite formidable; though, it’s unclear how much real skill she has."
Saying this, William took a step forward, standing on the boundary of white and black.
"Stay put, Professor."
William spoke without turning his head, pulling Gryffindor’s Sword from the void, the glow around him dimd, turning into blue electric sparks flickering slightly, "I’ll go get you so oranges... *cough cough* I’m off and will be back soon."
At those words, William’s form transford into a streak of blue light, rushing straight into that deathly silence of blackness.
"Boom—"
A silent explosion erupted at the consciousness level. The mont William entered the darkness, that once rely slowly spreading blackness boiled like a hot pot, suddenly erupting. Nurous dark shadows, like thorns, surged toward William, twisting with a feeling of consuming everything, trying to envelop this uninvited guest.
William wielded his sword, blue electric light exploded, shredding the approaching thorns into powder, yet those broken shadows rged again into the surrounding dark, instantly coalescing anew. Clearly, Hecate had absolute geographic advantage here. Over ti, her soul essence fused with this area she eroded, making her power seemingly endless.
And William, after all, was but a "newcor" to this place.
"You made a wrong choice. Impulsive action without understanding the situation is the sole reason for your failure—"
Spiritual shockwaves carrying decay-like intentions continuously bombarded William’s conscious defenses like invisible tidal waves, Hecate’s voice tinged with satisfaction and mockery, "Is it really that hard to know when to stop? Wasn’t I already planning to cooperate with you?"
And at the center of the "tidal waves," William’s blue electric light flickered violently around him, like a lighthouse about to be extinguished in a storm, dimming intermittently.
"Useless, mortal!"
Hecate’s voice echoed from all directions within the darkness, "Here, my existence has beco the rule; no matter how powerful your forces are, it cannot oppose my will, give up, and let this body be mine, maybe I’ll spare your life?" She paused, "Of course, I do have other terms now..."
Saying this, a vast curtain-like darkness descended upon William, his pupils contracted slightly, his free hand rapidly moving through the air, forming a shimring pale purple shield in front of him, only to be fiercely pushed away by the darkness—
Thus, under McGonagall’s tense watch, William was thrown back from the darkness. Planting his sword into the ground, he left a trace several ters long before finally managing to steady himself.
"Are you alright?"
She instinctively moved forward to support William, asking with concern.
"I’m alright, seems like this fellow’s not just show—"
William grinned wryly, sighing in mild helplessness, "After all, this is your consciousness world." He stood, watching the still-blank McGonagall, unable to help but sigh.
After a mont of silence, William continued, "Professor, just , the ’property manager,’ can’t evict this squatter. The ’owner’ still has to personally step in—"
Professor McGonagall was montarily stunned, then finally caught the key hint in William’s words.
So, she took a deep breath, the indecision and confusion in her erald eyes faded, reigniting the familiar fire belonging to the current Gryffindor head. Though unsure why William couldn’t just say directly and had to use such taphors—she understood ultimately, this was the realm of her soul, her will was the true rule here.
As McGonagall’s mindset shifted, the white world behind her seed to be injected with life, beginning to "co alive."
The once low and gentle white prairie instantly grew wildly, turning into countless soldiers wielding sharp swords and sturdy shields, mounted atop majestic lions. Accompanied by the roaring of lion prides, the soldiers launched their counterattack against the black thorns ahead—
William laughed heartily, perched on a gryphon that appeared beneath to carry him into the air. Gryffindor’s Sword pointed forward, "Now, leave yourself—I might just spare your life."
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