"That's Fawkes, the phoenix kept by Dumbledore. It has abilities similar to the Diricawl, being able to disappear and reappear at will—perhaps the headmaster is looking for Harry?"
Or maybe someone else...
As the only one among the three who knew Fawkes, Hermione yawned and explained vaguely, she was so tired she felt like dying—after the start of the semester, in these nearly half a month... no, it seemed like it had been less than a week since term began?
Hermione shook her head, the days splitting into two or three times a day left her biological clock in a mess.
Ignoring the Fat Lady's discontent, Hermione quickly climbed into the common room. Behind her, the two boys exchanged a glance but said nothing more until the Fat Lady's shout came from behind them—
"Hey, close the door, you pesky little brats!"
...
"Oh..."
Harry staggered out of the flames, though it was the phoenix's teleportation, it still felt a bit uncomfortable. The boy rubbed his temples, his unfocused gaze followed Fawkes' golden-red shadow, looking at the figure standing not far in front of him—
"Senior—"
Although his vision was still a bit blurry, Harry recognized the figure's identity, after all, it hadn't been long since they last met.
...ten minutes?
"Good evening, Harry."
William nodded, using some herbs from Fawkes' diet to send away the phoenix he had roped in to help — after returning to the school, Fawkes had gone back to Dumbledore. William didn't plan to stop it, after all, someone had to care for the lonely old bee.
Though he felt that old man didn't really need much care lately.
"Where is this?"
After a moment, Harry finally cleared his head of the nausea, his eyes scanned the surroundings, discovering he was in a place that looked like the interior of an underground passage. With the green light over his head, he barely made out the surrounding environment—
"The entrance to a secret chamber."
William explained briefly, though the explanation wasn't very enlightening. Next, he stepped forward, tapping the stone wall in front of them; the crisp sound of mechanisms activating echoed, "Now, can you see anything?"
"See what..."
Hearing this, Harry instinctively looked closely at the seemingly unchanged stone wall. He frowned, staring blankly for a while before finally nodding as if he'd noticed something, "I see a wall—"
"Nonsense, I meant something else!"
William retorted irritably, Harry blinked a few times, and after a moment of silence, shook his head, "No, there's nothing at all..."
"Can't see it?"
William nodded, not at all surprised. In his recent conversation with Professor Flitwick, he stumbled upon a question—because historical samples were too few, Professor Lachham back then attributed the ability to see traces of ancient magic as a talent of sorts.
Talent, as the name suggests, is a gift from heaven. And so far, William only knew of three people with this gift; the other two were gone now, leaving only himself as the sole inheritor.
And as mentioned, due to the scarcity of samples, William hadn't even figured out the source of this ability. He initially chalked it up as mere talent, until Flitwick casually pointed out a oversight—
If no one besides those with this talent could see or wield ancient magic, then how did Little Tom, in the past, manage to pull it off?
Logically, even if I left magic in Ginny's head, for Little Tom, who was still stuck in the diary, it should have been just a decent supplement at most. He should have had no ability to refine ancient magic—
Of course, I had considered whether Voldemort might also have this talent, but that thought was dismissed immediately.
The reason is simple, how could someone capable of wielding ancient magic be so incapable that he spent most of his life without even conquering the British Isles, unless all that magic went to waste?
Besides, speculating that Voldemort might simply have been unaware was even more implausible—
Back before I vanished, Hogwarts castle was filled with traces of my magic, if Voldemort had the talent, and unless he was blind or brainless, he probably could've unlocked the secret vault.
As for believing Voldemort was truly inept, William hadn't entirely dismissed it, yet if that were true, it'd be too... ridiculous, given that he was still a Dark Lord with an impressive reputation.
So, combining various conjectures, the possibilities narrowed down to just a few, one of which included the notion that Little Tom might indeed have sensed the ancient magic within that magic and, combining it with Occlumency, developed a form of Dream Magic…
Just from creating such magic, William could be sure that noseless nuisance was no idiot.
So, returning to the start, if Voldemort could use ancient magic, it indicated that the ability was actually not a talent—before Harry was brought by Fawkes, William had already discussed this matter with Professor Lachham's portrait, and even he was baffled.
No choice, although Professor Lachham was a Great Wizard who mastered ancient magic, he discovered the talent during his later years by some stroke of luck, which differed from both Isadora's and William's experiences—
The old man hadn't even studied much on emotion magic, let alone William's exploration on using ancient magic to enhance charms.
As such, no one really knew William could unleash the Avada Lightning Chain, as those who knew were those who got hit by the spell.
In the eyes of the Guardian portraits, William was simply a perfect successor—diligent and modest. Frankly, even if they didn't want him as a successor, they had no choice, as William was the only talent discovered in almost two centuries, barring Isadora.
Thus, when William proposed bringing a gifted person to the Map Chamber, the Guardians readily agreed, realizing that as mere portraits now, they couldn't stop William's actions, thus valued his regard—
On this account, Professor Lachham was nearly moved to tears.
However, other than out of habit, William's motivation was because Professor Jerard was now constantly dashing between the Map Chamber and Headmaster's Office, spending quite some time alongside Dumbledore's old bee... "Eh—"
Thinking of these, William couldn't help but sigh, suddenly feeling that pondering so much every day... was exhausting, if he wasn't disinterested, he might have just sucked in the secret vault, effectively entering a no-beef-eating mode at once.
"Senior, what do you want me to see?"
Noticing William's sudden sigh, Harry, who had been holding back, finally couldn't help but ask aloud.
"Hold on, I have another way—"
William didn't answer, but instead pressed a hand on Harry's neck. Without waiting for the boy to question, a needle-like sensation suddenly pricked the back of his neck—
This wasn't just a jabbing pain, but a shadowy feeling, as if something was about to kill him.
Harry instinctively gasped, the green flames over his head roared higher. He almost instinctively reached for his magic wand to defend, but when he tried to move, he found his body unable to budge.
'Kill him! Kill him! Kill him...'
"Don't move, look—"
William bent his head, speaking in a low tone, snapping the boy out of his thoughts. Next, he forcibly turned Harry's head to face forward.
What on earth does he want me to see...
With William's words, the sharp voice in his mind vanished. Harry widened his eyes, staring hard at the stone wall, and finally, a moment later, streams of blue-gold light appeared in his vision, coalescing into a dark vortex at the upper right of the stone wall—