"To be honest, your arrival is a great honor to me."
The headmaster led John into a courtyard where a beautiful cherry blossom tree stood.
Pink and white petals glowed breathtakingly under the moonlight.
The thick trunk, the drooping clusters of blossoms.
Whether in Japan or Great Britain, the sight carried a kind of primal, overwhelming beauty.
"It's not only because of your power, Lord Silverhand," the headmaster said, tapping a door in the courtyard with his wand, "but also because of your astonishing wisdom."
The door opened to both sides, revealing a place lined with countless bookshelves.
It was an attic—and also the location of the library.
Inside were not only books but many items resembling ancient scrolls.
"I've heard that most of Johnny Silverhand Specialty Shop's creations come from your own hands, Lord Silverhand," the headmaster said, inviting John inside.
John picked up a scroll and opened it. Inside were writings left by ancient onmyōji—wizards of old.
"It seems you know quite a lot, Headmaster," John said after glancing through the contents, which described an ancient sealing spell.
The headmaster chuckled. "Like you, my lord, we enjoy researching certain things."
He stroked his beard, his cloudy eyes fixed on John. "A friend of mine often praises your brilliance in front of me, which made me look forward to meeting you greatly."
"Then your friend must be a great wizard," John said. Noticing a door on the lower level of the attic, he asked, "What's that?"
That door was sealed tightly, covered with many runes imbued with magic.
The headmaster glanced at it and smiled. "Nothing of importance."
Clearly, he wasn't ready to explain.
John nodded in understanding, then asked if he could browse the upper level.
"I will close the library for a time for you," the headmaster said, "so my students won't disturb you."
"Then I'll thank you, Headmaster," John said, not refusing the offer.
The headmaster left the library and closed the door behind him.
John glanced once more at the sealed door, then turned and went up to the 2nd floor.
The collection here might not surpass Hogwarts in sheer number, but most of the books were ancient works passed down through the ages.
From the second floor, he could see the extraordinarily beautiful cherry blossom tree outside.
John familiarized himself with the library and selected several old texts, setting them aside as his main focus.
As he settled into the library, he began absorbing knowledge at a rapid pace.
The predecessor of Mahoutokoro had once been called the Onmyō Bureau, its earliest form rooted in the tradition of onmyōji.
Because of that, their magic differed from Western wizardry.
For example, spells that could be inscribed on paper and manifest in varying degrees of power were known in Mahoutokoro's system as talismans.
This was one of the more obvious distinctions between Asian and European magic.
They were similar to John's protective charms, but their primary use was sealing rather than defense.
That was why sealing spells were so commonly employed here.
Many of the legends about the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons in Japan were, in fact, accounts of wizards using such methods to deal with creatures that lingered between life and death.
"Sounds almost like ghosts," John murmured.
He pondered for a moment, then opened another scroll to read.
From night into dawn, he kept reading.
His mind was like a parched sponge, greedily soaking up the unfamiliar theories and knowledge of a foreign land.
By the time the second night fell, John's expression had grown serious.
"This aligns quite closely with what I suspected."
He found one scroll that stated that the foundation of magic lay in mental power, and that by stimulating intense emotions, magical energy could be activated and become more vigorous.
John had already tested this when training Malfoy, deliberately provoking anger to draw out more power.
All the scrolls were written in the local language, but with John's learning ability, mastering a new language was hardly difficult.
He kept flipping through them, and gradually his expression began to change.
"Experiments?"
He came across a book—not a scroll—that recorded a series of experiments.
Reading carefully, John realized that these experiments used the excuse of "enhancing magical talent" to propose various theories.
"In the end, they're just theories."
One of them described using electric shocks to stimulate the human brain, intensifying emotions to greatly boost magical power.
And that wasn't all—there were all kinds of experiments meant to awaken a wizard's potential.
Including, but not limited to, methods like what had once happened to Neville as a child—throwing someone from a great height to force their magic to manifest.
Wizards might be notoriously hard to kill, but doing things this way would clearly end up costing lives sooner or later.
John closed the book and tossed it aside. This was nothing but a waste of effort.
Only someone out of their mind would come up with something like this.
Using external stimulation to awaken magical talent would, at best, probably just create another wizard who was little better than a madman.
"Azkaban will be waiting for you."
On the third day, John finally found records about Bond Magic.
This kind of power was much like Harry's "mother's love." It was hard not to wonder whether Lily herself had once drawn on the same principle.
This was an ancient form of magic. Through the bonds of friendship, those caught within it could gain a boost in power.
Much like the protagonists in anime—after a round of shouting and passionate speeches, followed by a line like "Don't underestimate our bond," they would usually unleash devastating damage.
John wasn't an anime protagonist. What he wanted to draw from this was the concept behind those bonds.
This wasn't magic that relied on blood ties, but on emotional connections instead, and he spent an entire day studying it.
By now, John had not left the attic for four days.
He knew nothing of what was happening outside.
Musashi had been taken into custody.
…
The dungeon.
Instructor Shizuka stood outside the cell, looking at Musashi, who had grown noticeably thinner over the past four days. With sorrow in her voice, she said, "Why did you come back, Musashi-kun?"
Musashi looked at that familiar face and said hoarsely, "I've been through many things out there. I realized… I can't escape my past."
"This shouldn't be your fate," Instructor Shizuka sobbed. "It shouldn't be like this."
"From the moment I stepped into that room, the ending was already decided."
Musashi looked at his now much rougher palms and gave a bitter smile. "Da Xiong and the others all wish they could kill me, because I cheated—and then I ran away."
"After I left, everything that happened in that room comes back to me every single night."
Clutching his head in pain, his voice hoarse like a stranded fish, Musashi roared, "Do you know what it's like, seeing people just as ignorant as I was—those who were experimented on, those who were electrocuted to death?"
He rushed to the cell door and shouted madly, "Why did you come back, Shizuka? You should stay far away from this hell!"
His expression was deranged, his eyes filled with confusion and rage.
Shizuka staggered back, her face deathly pale, her lips trembling as she said, "I… I wanted to protect them."
"You can't protect them, Shizuka," Musashi said. "These secrets have been buried here for decades. As long as the Headmaster is still around, you'll never be able to change anything."
"But if even I run away," Shizuka said stubbornly, "then there truly will be no hope at all."
Musashi loosened his grip and slumped down in defeat.
"Do you resent me… for not being able to save your younger brother?"
"No, please don't think that way, Musashi-kun." Shizuka hurriedly explained. "I know that all these years you've been away, you kept sending us money."
"Sometimes it was a small amount, sometimes a large one."
"Every single galleon you sent was earned by risking your life," Shizuka said gently. "I know you want to protect the children, but this isn't the way."
"Only by cutting it off completely can they truly be saved."
Musashi stared blankly at the woman who had once been closest to him. All these years, he had worked himself to the bone just to atone.
Yet compared to Shizuka's courage in standing up, his own escape now seemed nothing but cowardice.
"You won't succeed," Musashi said. "It's not just the Headmaster—there are powerful people involved in this as well."
Shizuka didn't speak, but her eyes were filled with a strength that moved anyone who saw it.
…
Half a month passed.
John compressed his time to the extreme, sleeping only two hours a day, not a second more. The moment he woke, he would continue reading.
Through his relentless effort, he had gained a preliminary grasp of bond magic.
He was ready to leave.
Just as he opened the library doors, the Headmaster was already standing outside.
John found it strange. "Don't you have classes?"
The old man seemed to have forgotten he was the headmaster, actually coming out to see him off.
The Headmaster chuckled. "You may not know this, Lord Silverhand, but today is the students' holiday. They've all gone home."
"Is that so?" John said indifferently. "Then I'll take my leave as well."
"Wait."
A strange glint flashed through the murky depths of the Headmaster's eyes as he smiled. "Lord Silverhand, aren't you curious about what's behind that door?"
"To be honest, it's a research project the school has been involved in over the past few years."
"A research project?" John frowned slightly.
"That's right," the Headmaster said invitingly. "I wonder if Lord Silverhand would be interested?"
"It's a joint project between Mahoutokoro and the Ministry of Magic. I'd like to invite you inside—and even more, I hope you can offer us some guidance in this field."
The Headmaster clearly valued John's identity as the Second King. "A friend of mine once said that only Lord Silverhand has the ability to help us."
"How interesting," John chuckled softly. "Your friend seems to hold me in rather high regard."
"That's precisely why I treat you with such respect."
The Headmaster led John toward that sealed door.
With a firm push, the Headmaster opened it.
The door creaked as it swung open.
A long, heavy, grating sound echoed.
Behind it was a staircase descending into darkness.
In the dim light, the Headmaster's smile looked eerily strange.
John narrowed his eyes. So this was the mystery he wanted to sell.
He stepped inside.
________
I'll post another chapter in about 4-5 hrs! Stay tuned!😁
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