To be honest, the change in the great gray wolf in the shadows was startlingly obvious.
The once arrogant and domineering shadow creature now looked as though it had been struck by a thunderbolt from a clear sky. Its ferocious face twisted instantly, its blood-red eyes bulging wide with terror and disbelief.
When it finally recognized the raven Ian had transformed into, its entire body began to tremble uncontrollably as if seized by an invisible, overwhelming force. With a heavy thud, it collapsed to its knees inside the bottle.
Though it was hard to imagine a wolf kneeling on all fours, from the wolf's perspective, how could it not drop down at light speed? As a member of the Soul Hall, it recognized the form Ian had taken almost instantly.
It was the ruler of the Soul Hall: the eternal Raven, the savior worshipped by countless Soul Hall emissaries. The fact that a human wizard could bear such a form made the wolf tremble even harder.
No mortal can bear the weight of a god.
In every tale throughout history, if a mortal becomes a god, there is only one explanation: the "mortal shape" is a disguise.
The grey wolf, a character in fairy tales and fables, found the scene eerily familiar. There were always gods who loved to walk among mortals in disguise. Thinking of this extinguished every trace of arrogance the wolf had once possessed.
"L—Lord!" The wolf's soul dropped low inside the bottle, its voice trembling with awe. Its eyes were filled with disbelief, as though beholding the inconceivable.
"Why...why are you here? How can this be possible?"
Despair and regret tinged its words. Suddenly, it remembered all the threats it had dared to spit at Ian, and a cold terror surged through its heart. Its soul flickered violently within the bottle as if it might shatter at any moment.
Clearly, this creature wasn't very courageous. If this really was the Big Bad Wolf tricked by Little Red Riding Hood, then its cowardice made sense. Even if not human, the wolf's mind raced far faster than most humans'.
Every single thought in his head was filled with two words- 'Self-preservation'!
It had to save itself!
"Lord, your little trick on me was truly magnificent! Worthy of none but you!" The wolf's voice turned obsequious as it frantically showered Ian with praise, desperately hoping to change his opinion of it.
"I have already received a lesson personally taught by you! I have deeply absorbed your guidance. For you to trouble yourself to educate me in such a way is the greatest honor of my life. It fills me with utter shame at my own shortcomings!"
The great gray wolf lifted its pleading eyes toward the Raven that Ian had become. Its tone dripped with humility and flattery as it begged for Ian's forgiveness.
Yet, because of the Silencing Charm that Riddle had cast earlier, not a single sound escaped from the bottle, and nothing was heard by Ian. Its mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but none of its "heartfelt words" reached Ian. From outside, Ian could only see the wolf's jaws moving silently.
Lip-reading is a skill suited to humans, not wolves. Ian didn't need to hear the wolf's desperate babbling; he could guess what it was trying to say.
For Ian, this was simply a chance to confirm one crucial thing:
"So I really am connected to the Soul Hall."
Beating his wings, Ian circled once in midair. His gaze landed on the trembling wolf inside the bottle. The sheer terror on the creature's face confirmed his suspicions.
He recalled Merlin's earlier words: "You are the Raven."
His feelings grew complicated. Now, it seemed that there was some truth to what Merlin had said. Perhaps when he had pummeled Merlin with those hundreds of punches, one or two of them had been misplaced, not that Ian regretted any of them.
Ian also remembered how the shadow being had mentioned that Medivh was the Great Guardian of the Soul Hall. The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Why had he drawn such a sharp line between Medivh's identity and the Raven's?
Was such a separation truly necessary?
Or was there a hidden truth binding the two identities together that he didn't know about?
The Raven shook its head slightly at the thought.
Perhaps it was the influence of Animagus magic or simply the nature of the creature he had become, but Ian felt his "God Level" brain whispering that he shouldn't overthink things and that the best answer was to charge forward recklessly and without thinking about the consequences.
He had a powerful urge to interrogate the entire world until he uncovered the truth, but that clearly wasn't his true self speaking.
'Becoming a magical creature truly did have side effects.' Ian quickly dispelled his transformation as he thought of this.
With a ripple of distortion through his body, he returned to his original form as a handsome young wizard. At that very moment, Riddle's voice rang out from the side. He had already stunned Malfoy with a Stupefy and was now looking at Ian.
"Your Animagus form... I must admit, it was a bit unexpected." Riddle had, of course, witnessed the entire transformation and recognized the magic at once. Yet, he was faintly disappointed that Ian's chosen form was a Raven.
"I had thought your Animagus form would be more imposing, something like Jörmungandr, the world serpent of magic."
At the mention of the serpent, a fanatical light flashed in Riddle's eyes. The corners of his mouth curved upward, revealing an obsessive smile.
Clearly, the frail Riddle could not sense the immense power concealed within Ian's raven form. His love for serpents was etched deep into his very being; after all, the bloodline of Salazar Slytherin flowed through his veins.
For Slytherin's descendants, that special bond with serpents seemed almost innate. Such was the overwhelming influence of bloodlines in the magical world. At the genetic level, the imprints of mighty ancestors lingered.
In essence, wasn't this a form of "Emperor's Bloodline"? The imprints of powerful ancestors were carved into one's very genes, passing down innate gifts to later generations.
For this reason, the ideology of pure-blood supremacy wasn't entirely baseless; preserving the purity of a lineage maximized the chance of maintaining ancestral blessings and those unique skills without dilution.
However, wizards' understanding of genetics and bloodlines was underdeveloped. They had yet to realize that genetic diversity could also produce geniuses who required no inherited blessings because they would become similarly powerful or even stronger than those revered ancestors.
(To Be Continued...)
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