So, we still need to tone it down a bit, and add some roguelike elements to the tower climbing mechanism, like rewards or upgrades such as magic power enhancements or powerful items for passing certain levels. This way, the little wizards can climb the tower faster at the current stage, or else the "surprises" prepared later won't be used at all.
William was perfecting the design of the Dream Game in his mind while pointing his magic wand at the statue. The statue, originally nearly five meters tall, began to shrink until it became a figurine only a dozen centimeters tall, held in William's palm.
Yes, he used the "Reduce" magic rune.
Seeing William finally stop exercising, Kabuda quickly greeted the Poisonous Snake Green Pepper, then swiftly climbed onto William's shoulder, pulled a handkerchief from the pocket on his stomach, and began wiping William's sweat, his flattering expression unmistakably that of a consummate sycophant.
"Spineless,"
muttered the Sorting Hat, displeased, as it watched the scene.
"Chirp chirp!"
Kabuda wasn't going to put up with it, extending its claws and beginning to curse, though the Sorting Hat couldn't understand, and William didn't plan to translate because Kabuda's insults were somewhat unpublishable. If it ended up giving this antique atop his head a heart attack, what then?
Wait, where does a hat have a heart?
Signaling Kabuda to shut up, William flaunted the golem in his hand, showing off to the Sorting Hat, "How about it? Although it's not related to alchemy, how does this creation compare to those alchemy masters you've seen?"
"Hmph, you find Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem first before you say things like that,"
the Sorting Hat scoffed, "Besides, apart from those black wizards, no proper person would create this... this... weapon of war." The Sorting Hat felt it wasn't wrong, seeing as this thing could easily reveal its strategic value —
If mass-produced, it could completely change warfare.
Of course, in the understanding of this thousand-year-old antique, Muggle soldiers outside were still hacking at each other with swords. Dumbledore had never mentioned Muggle technology development, or really, what use is it to talk about this with a hat?
So, William had no intention of explaining; he only turned to look at Professor Percival, sitting reading on the wall, "Hey, Professor, this hat says you're a madman black wizard studying dark arts and a weapon-obsessed war freak—"
"Hey, you brat—"
Upon hearing William maligning him like this, the Sorting Hat was decidedly unhappy, but it couldn't just jump off the head, so it could only flap its brim to slap William's cheek.
"Hehe."
Inside the portrait, Professor Percival merely smiled kindly while reading. "So, are you planning to use that fellow as the guard of the Map Chamber?" The inspiration for William's stone guardian came from his Meditation Basin guards, both using ancient magic with statues—
But compared to his rough magic infusion, William's Magic Rune Stone Statue is clearly more advanced and convenient.
"Pretty much, once the prototype is done, replicating it later becomes easy, though we won't be so lavish with materials again."
William nodded and casually supported the basilisk's head perched on his other shoulder, scratching the green pepper's chin. The red feathers on the basilisk's head trembled momentarily, and William opened his mouth, exchanging a few words with the basilisk in Parseltongue—
No choice, although he could directly understand the basilisk's hissing, the basilisk couldn't understand human speech.
The basilisk nodded, rubbed its cheek against William's head, then slithered away into the darkness.
"Alright, seems the security here is indeed a bit excessive—"
Inside the portrait, Professor Percival nodded and looked to the other side of the Map Chamber, where two fire dragons were curled up together sleeping, with Norbert's head resting in the gap of Lina's dorsal fin, its eyes half-open, half-closed, gazing at William.
"Roar—"
Noticing the gaze, it lazily flapped its wings, exuding a sense of two words: boredom.
But no choice, William had no plans to leave during this period, nor could he let these two "little guys" who could directly dismantle Hogwarts Castle out, even if Newt designed an environment suitable for these fire dragons in his suitcase. They seemed to prefer staying with William.
It's only that the more intelligent these magical creatures are, the more dependent they seem to be on William.
The counter-example being those quintapeds with hardly any intelligence; their greatest kindness to William was not biting him actively.
"Alright, another couple of days, then we'll head out—"
"Roar—"
"Chirp chirp!" Kabuda also excitedly raised its arm and cheered.
"Not your concern. Even if you go out, you still have homework."
"Chirp..."
....
....
"Professor, I must point out the pros and cons between these—"
"Buzz off."
"I—"
"Boom—"
Watching the office door slam shut in his face, Wood sighed in confusion.
The boy turned and walked back to Gryffindor Tower, looking dejected, while Sir Cadogan, riding his gray little plump horse, loudly urged him to perk up, but after a moment glaring with a resentful look from Wood, he silently opened the door—
"Sorry, Harry, I couldn't help you get the Firebolt back."
Finding Harry warming himself by the fireplace, Wood shook his head, "I went to Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt, and -- uh -- she might've gotten a bit cross, telling me I misunderstood the importance of things. She seems to think I care more about winning the trophy than whether you can survive. Just because I told her I wouldn't care if you got knocked off your broom as long as you caught the Golden Snitch first. Goodness, the way she yelled at me... you'd think I said something atrocious."
Indeed, it was rather atrocious.
Hermione lifted her head from a pile of books, instinctively wanting to speak, but the little remaining emotional intelligence made her choose silence.
"Later, I asked how long she'd keep the broom from you..."
Wood twisted his face, mimicking Professor McGonagall's stern voice, " 'As long as necessary, Wood'... Well, it looks like we can't rely on using the Firebolt's Thunder to defeat Ravenclaw, and if they score too many points, the subsequent matches this term will get even harder."
"Forget it, Wood, maybe the Nimbus 2000 isn't much worse—"
Harry sighed with resignation, realizing those around him felt far more attached to his Firebolt than he, its owner, did.
"You don't understand, Harry, you haven't tried it, and besides, that's a Firebolt—"
Wood walked off dejectedly, muttering something about this year being Gryffindor's best chance to win the championship, though Harry recalled him saying that every year.
"Exactly, the Firebolt is so much better than the Nimbus 2000!"
Ron instinctively echoed, currently copying Harry's Potions homework. Since falling out with Hermione over the Firebolt, Ron vowed never to copy her homework again, leaving Harry as his last resort.
"Sounds like you've actually ridden one—"
This time Hermione didn't keep quiet, instead snapping back instinctively.
"...Ha, can't explain to a flight Muggle like you."
Ron wanted to say something harsh but suddenly remembered he was copying Harry's homework, whose source certainly was... never mind, better be somewhat tactful lest Hermione gets upset and reports him to a teacher—
That would be disastrous.
Thinking this, Ron involuntarily sped up his writing.