"So, what exactly is that sphere?"
Finally, Ron couldn’t resist asking the question. He leaned in two steps closer to the railing, then cautiously peeked down. The silver tal sphere emanating an eerie white light was still slowly and steadily rotating. Harry also sneaked a glance, but this ti he didn’t feel the sa attraction as the first ti he gazed at it.
"That’s..."
Hermione just began to explain but decisively shut her mouth the next mont. Sensing the unusual atmosphere, Harry and Ron instinctively turned their heads to look—
Only to see, a figure appeared silently, like a ghost, at the front of the line.
He was wearing the sa black training outfit. His fra wasn’t tall, and he even appeared a bit hunched, but as soon as he stood at the very front of the line, an invisible, heart-palpitating pressure instantly spread out. The originally faint chatter on the platform imdiately quieted down, and all trainees, including Hermione and Cedric, unconsciously straightened their backs.
With a glance from Hermione, Harry and Ron also quickly closed their mouths, hurriedly aligning themselves at the end of the line, trying hard to mimic the stance of others.
"Ahem."
A light cough ca from the front of the line, and the invisible pressure seed to lessen a bit with this sound.
Thus, Harry cautiously stretched out his head to finally see the face of the elder at the very front—
"Professor Percival?!"
He blurted out softly in shock—yes, standing at the front of the line was the normally gentle and sowhat inconspicuous elderly professor—except for assigning so bizarre (allegedly co-authored with a certain dueling class professor) howork, there was nothing peculiar about him.
In Hogwarts, a faculty team that welcos Asian, Black, alcoholic, animal protection organization, Half-Blood Giant, Half-Blood Goblin, Quidditch enthusiasts, cave old Bat Spirits... even ghosts—
Professor Percival (Old Greg) most of the ti even beca a refreshing existence.
But at this mont, this usually gentle old man exuded a completely different aura.
His wrinkled face was expressionless, and a pair of heterochromatic pupils slowly scanned everyone present. Finally, his gaze stopped on Ron and Harry, causing the two to involuntarily tense their bodies and even stop their exchanged glances.
"Most of you."
Grindelwald spoke, his voice not loud, yet piercingly clear to everyone’s ears, carrying a coldness as if a high-ranking official was delivering a speech, "have been undergoing basic training here for so ti, but the results... heh, are a pile of dog shit."
Though he felt that he wasn’t one of those being scolded, Harry still instinctively clenched his sphincter.
So, what do we do now? Do we not need to change clothes?
He attempted to communicate with Hermione beside him with eye contact, but she simply signaled for him to keep listening.
"The magic we use essentially stems from will."
He paced slowly, "What you’ve learned before is nothing more than how to ’command’ magic with a wand and spell, like driving cattle with a whip. But that’s clearly just the most superficial application of magic—true mastery of magic lies in understanding, resonance, and letting your will beco the riverbed for the energy flow, rather than a dam blocking the river."
At this point, he stopped at the railing beside the floating giant silver ball, looking down.
"Now, the ’Secret Vault’ beneath your feet is an ocean of converging magical powers. It’s wild, chaotic, containing the most potent force. Over the past few weeks, what I’ve asked you to do is not to directly ’draw’ strength from it, but to learn to walk on its edge, feel its tides, let your souls resonate with it, then gradually harmonize..."
Upon hearing this, Harry suddenly understood a bit. He looked at Hermione, and her gaze also t his, so she nodded slightly in confirmation.
So—Harry’s eyes widened—this was the reason why Hermione’s abilities advanced so rapidly in a short ti? Not because, as he and Ron speculated, she learned so powerful new spell, but because she adopted a more fundantal approach to understanding and utilizing magic?
Except, if Hermione could hear his inner thoughts at this mont, she would undoubtedly shake her head—no, there’s no understanding or application, she rely plugged in a "battery" as an add-on.
Not just her, Cedric was no exception. This situation didn’t only apply to them; almost everyone who participated in this "experint" was the sa—
"But, as I’ve said, what you have done is simply a pile of crap!"
Changing his tone, Grindelwald’s voice beca harsher, "This level of resonance is as simple as a baby learning to breathe, but you... who is Harry Potter?"
"...Huh? That’s !"
Harry, suddenly hearing his na ntioned, quickly raised his hand, sowhat confusedly looking at the old man.
"You, co forward."
Grindelwald gestured for Harry to co forward, and it was only when he reached the front of the line that Harry clearly saw the faces of these people—compared to him, they were much more mature. Since when did so many adult wizards infiltrate Hogwarts, and their presence felt oddly familiar to Harry...
As if he had seen them sowhere before?
"I heard from William that your talent is quite good?"
"Ah..."
Upon hearing "Professor Percival’s" words, Harry was montarily lost—this professor’s current deanor was truly eerie, as if he were facing not a gentle old man, but a cold-blooded leader.
"If that’s the case, then you will demonstrate—"
"But, Professor, this is my first ti here today..."
"No buts, now sit down, and assu the ditative pose that resonates most with your inner self, and close your eyes."
Grindelwald didn’t give Harry any chance to resist; applying a slight force on his shoulder, Harry found himself uncontrollably sitting cross-legged. He took a deep breath and resignedly closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a warm touch emanating from the hand on his shoulder—
The next mont, a nearly imperceptible thread of energy spread from the warm touch point, forming a complex circuit within Harry’s body.
"What’s this..."
"Good."
Judging by the tone, "Professor Percival" seed sowhat satisfied, "Now, rember, no matter how much pain you’re about to experience, stay conscious. Keep your will’s lighthouse from being extinguished. You must know, once you lose yourself in the turbulence of power..." The old man’s voice was as cold as ice, "I can’t guarantee to pull you back intact, understood?"
"...Understood."
"Then, follow my guidance—"
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