Ch: 51-60
Chapter 51: Goal: The Philosopher's Stone
The early morning air carried a chill, and the streets were empty.
He left without looking back, his pace steady, quickly vanishing around the corner of the monotonous streetscape of Privet Drive.
Passing through the Leaky Cauldron's dilapidated fireplace, where the fire never burned brightly, he experienced a brief moment of dizziness and compression.
Caesar stepped into the living room of a secluded cottage in Hogsmeade.
The air was thick with the scent of dust and old wood, but more importantly—
This place was filled with free-flowing magical fluctuations that were not closely monitored by The Trace for adult Wizards or those holding special permits.
Without lingering, he Apparated directly outside the boundaries of Hogwarts, then walked across the familiar grounds toward the Castle.
In the Scottish Highlands at the end of August, the early morning wind already carried a biting chill, fluttering the hem of his dark robes.
In the distance, the Black Lake appeared iron-gray under the murky morning light, calm and without a ripple.
The massive silhouette of the Castle stood tall in the dawning light, its tower spires piercing the low-hanging clouds—silent, ancient, and full of secrets.
During the holidays, Hogwarts was so empty it felt almost desolate.
Only a few House-elves and resident Professors were on duty.
As a former Principal of Hogwarts, Caesar had no trouble evading all surveillance.
His solitary footsteps echoed in the corridors. Most of the portraits were asleep in their frames; occasionally, a few curious ghosts poked their heads out of the walls, only to withdraw listlessly.
The air lacked the noisy vitality of a thousand gathered students, but it gained a sense of solemnity and mystery belonging to the building itself, accumulated over a millennium.
Caesar went directly to Gryffindor Tower.
The common room was empty. Blue hangings draped silently, and the statue of the Diadem of Wisdomlooked exceptionally serene in the faint light filtering through the stained-glass windows.
Instead of going to the dormitory, he entered a small room that, in his simulated memories, could serve as a study and laboratory.
He closed the door and cast simple silencing and anti-interference spells.
The world was instantly shut out.
He walked to the window, gazing at the Castle, the lake, and the distant mountains gradually illuminated by the morning sun.
Emotions and nostalgia had been cast aside; it was time to get down to business.
Within his chest, something dormant began to wake slowly yet resolutely—a sense of purpose.
Time was the most precious resource, especially now that his talent had undergone a qualitative change and his knowledge was in urgent need of integration and transformation.
Every minute and every second should be used to "strengthen his power."
To digest the principles of ancient magic that had become crystal clear under the light of his top-tier talent, and to practice more subtle and efficient control over magic.
To attempt building more complex and powerful magical models, and to analyze the theories recorded from the Restricted Section regarding the soul, space, and the essence of existence... and all these preparations pointed toward a clear and imminent goal:
The Philosopher's Stone.
Nicolas Flamel's masterpiece. The pinnacle of Alchemy. A legendary existence capable of turning metal into gold and producing the Elixir of Life.
In previous simulations, he had touched it, feeling the vast, star-like power of creation and the source of life contained within.
But that was ultimately just a deduction, an illusory possibility.
The real Philosopher's Stone was hidden somewhere in this Castle right now, meticulously guarded by the greatest White Wizard of the century.
Immortality? If the power of the Philosopher's Stone was truly as the legends said, that might be only one of its most basic applications.
What Caesar pursued was far more than just the infinite extension of time.
He wanted control, analysis, and to turn that near-rule-level power to his own use, becoming a lever to pry open deeper mysteries.
This reminded him of the glimpses he had caught in the ruins of the Sacred Mountain—those even more ancient and maddening secret fragments that pointed directly to the underlying logic of the world's operation.
Mastering the power of the Philosopher's Stone might... be the cornerstone to understanding, and even harnessing, that ultimate madness.
Immortality. Invincibility.
These two words surfaced in his mind, devoid of any youthful passion or longing, carrying only a cold, absolute rationality, like deconstructing a complex magical formula.
These were two coordinates defining the peak of power he was about to climb.
The former meant breaking free from the shackles of time and decay, gaining near-infinite "possibilities" and "margin for error."
The latter meant standing above existing rules, unconstrained and unthreatened, capable of absolutely carrying out one's own will.
To achieve this goal, he had to obtain the Philosopher's Stone. No matter the cost, by any means necessary.
Dumbledore's protection? Voldemort's coveting?
These were merely variables to be calculated and overcome.
The new term was about to begin, and the Castle would once again be filled with vitality and variables. And he was already in position.
In the silent, empty Gryffindor Tower, amidst the gradually brightening morning light outside the window, he slowly opened his palm, as if phantomly gripping that yet-to-be-acquired, crimson, magnificent gem.
The corner of his mouth curled into a faint, cold arc.
The hunt has begun... The new term was like a bow being slowly drawn taut, accumulating an invisible tension within Hogwarts Castle.
Classes proceeded as usual, but certain subtle changes, like undercurrents beneath the ice, began to be noticed by the keen-eyed.
Caesar's daily routine seemed no different from before: following behind The Trio.
But with the enhancement of these months of cultivation, his perception of the Castle's magical field had reached an unprecedented level of precision.
He could vaguely sense that in certain areas of the Castle, especially near the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor.
There were subtle stagnations and disturbances in the flow of magic, as if something heavy had been placed there, altering the surrounding "field."
Simultaneously, he also detected two disparate yet equally hidden prying intents, often sweeping across those areas like ghosts:
Cold and viscous—that was the darkness and greed of Quirrell and Lord Voldemort.
The Philosopher's Stone was there.
Within reach, yet far away.
The mirror of erised, used by Dumbledore to guard the Philosopher's Stone, had a core rule that was nearly unsolvable: only someone who truly "did not want to use" the stone could retrieve it from the mirror.
In the simulated world, he hadn't cared, which was how he had been able to take the stone.
But here, in the real Hogwarts, facing that legendary alchemical creation, he was almost certain he could not get it.
The mirror reflected the deepest, most urgent, and truest desires of the heart.
Caesar had a cold clarity about himself: he wanted the Philosopher's Stone, wanted it desperately, with a clear purpose and strong desire. The mirror would not open a path for him.
But someone could.
That boy with the lightning scar on his forehead, Harry Potter.
His desire, at least at this stage, had nothing to do with the Philosopher's Stone itself.
He craved family, craved to prove himself, and craved to oppose what he perceived as evil. This purity was the only thing that could fool the mirror of erised.
It was necessary for Harry to see that mirror earlier and more clearly, and to be drawn to it.
It was necessary for the clues about the "Mirror" and the "Philosopher's Stone" to enter Harry and the others' field of vision in a natural way.
Chapter 52 The mirror of erised
Caesar began to act like a patient gardener, quietly sowing the seeds of "clues" in the soil of the trio's daily activities.
Finally, just like in the original work, on a cold night after the Christmas holidays, Harry Potter went out for another night-time stroll under his Invisibility Cloak.
And when he discovered a door faintly shimmering with a strange, flowing light in a remote corridor he had never noticed before,
he didn't hesitate for long before pushing the door open and walking inside.
The next day, he couldn't wait to tell Caesar, Ron, and Hermione about this amazing discovery:
A huge, magnificent mirror with strange inscriptions at the top of the frame, in which he saw his deceased parents, vivid and warm.
Ron's intense curiosity was piqued, while Hermione, amidst her shock, immediately began analyzing the mirror's origin and potential dangers from the perspectives of magical theory and Castle history.
At the end of the discussion, Caesar suggested, "Let's go and see it together tonight! Maybe we can figure out what this mirror really is."
Hermione hesitated slightly, harboring reservations about getting involved in something that clearly violated school rules and could be dangerous; following the rules was a very important matter.
But Ron thought it made sense: "Yeah, Hermione always knows about strange things. Maybe she can tell us if this mirror will suck out people's souls or something!"
The vote was three to one.
Ultimately, Hermione was persuaded.
Night fell, and the Castle sank into sleep.
Four figures met in the shadows of the pre-arranged armor corridor.
They avoided Madam Norris's patrol route, dodged Peeves whom they almost bumped into, and finally arrived at the door without further incident.
The door was slightly ajar, and from within emanated a shifting glimmer, as if a rainbow had been melted.
Harry took a deep breath and was the first to push the door open.
Ron and Hermione followed closely behind, while Caesar was the last to step in, gently closing the door behind him.
The room was empty, with only the massive mirror of erised standing in the center, seemingly the sole focus of the entire space.
The inscriptions on the frame glowed faintly in the flowing halo.
The mirror's surface did not clearly reflect reality, but was instead a deep, swirling vortex of light, as if leading to another dimension.
"The mirror of erised," Hermione recognized it immediately. "I've read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History.' It shows the deepest, most desperate desire of a person's heart."
Ron had already stepped forward impatiently.
He stood before the mirror, his eyes widening suddenly, an incredulous smile appearing on his face. "Merlin's beard... I see myself!
I'm the Quidditch Captain, holding the House Cup, and I'm even the Head Boy... Bill and Charlie are both clapping for me!"
He watched for a good while before reluctantly stepping aside.
Next was Harry.
In the mirror, a beautiful woman with red hair and green eyes stood behind him, and beside her was a man with untidy hair and glasses.
They were both smiling at him, their eyes full of love. The man placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, while the woman gently stroked his hair.
"Mom... Dad..." Harry murmured, tears welling up in his eyes.
After a while, it was Caesar's turn.
But Caesar stood in the shadows of the room, his hands thrust into his robe pockets.
His gaze swept across the mirror, his eyes as deep as the Black Lake at night, with no intention of stepping forward.
"Aren't you going to look, Caesar?" Harry asked.
"I know what I would see," he said calmly, his voice devoid of emotion. "Nothing more than... things already lost."
Having said that, he looked away and asked in a calm voice, one enough to pull people back from a dream to reality:
"Potter, besides your parents, what else did you see?"
The voice rang out in the room filled with magical halos, clear, cool, and without any trace of being enchanted.
"Nothing else," Harry shook his head, puzzled.
Nothing else?
A flicker of surprise flashed through Caesar's eyes.
Right!
How could I have remembered such a crucial detail wrong!
In the original work, Harry only sees the Philosopher's Stone when facing Quirrell's threat.
Caesar suddenly felt that lacking a Wisdom talent was a serious matter!
It seemed he needed to start the next Simulation soon, either to gain a Wisdom-related talent as a reward or to find a clever female Strategist to advise him.
At that moment, Ron asked in a low voice, "Then Hermione, do you want to take a look? Maybe you'll see yourself becoming the Minister for Magic."
Hermione frowned, carefully examining the inscriptions on the frame and then the shifting light and shadow in the mirror, before finally walking toward it as well.
In the next moment, the halo of the mirror of erised became as soft as moonlight, rippling out in circles of pearly waves in the silent room.
The image in the mirror began to change.
The first thing to emerge was the atrium of the Ministry of magic.
An adult Hermione Granger stood on a high podium, wearing an exquisite deep purple robe with the Minister for Magic badge pinned to her chest.
She was giving a speech, her expression firm, her eyes bright, and her waving arms full of power.
Below the stage was a dense crowd, with applause surging like a tide.
The real Hermione's eyes widened slightly.
Minister for Magic... was this her heart's desire?
Then, the scene shifted.
In front of Hogwarts Castle, a crowd had gathered. It was no longer the usual bustling start-of-term scene, but a solemn ceremony.
Adult Hermione stood at the very front, her expression calm yet unable to hide the exhaustion deep in her eyes. She held an ancient scroll of Parchment, slowly unfurling it.
The Castle gates slowly closed behind her.
Not a temporary closure, but permanent.
Hogwarts had disbanded.
The real Hermione gasped.
This isn't right... why would Hogwarts disband?
This thousand-year-old school, the center of the wizarding world... The Hermione in the mirror turned around, facing the empty Castle.
Her eyes looked through the mirror's surface, meeting the gaze of the real Hermione.
In that instant, the real Hermione saw something in her eyes.
Not exhaustion, not sadness, but a deeper, almost relieved peace.
Then, a man walked into the frame.
He appeared behind the adult Hermione, his footsteps light, as if afraid of disturbing something.
Adult Hermione didn't turn around, but her back relaxed slightly, as if she felt at peace just by sensing his presence.
The man walked to her side and stood shoulder to shoulder with her, looking at the Castle that was about to become a historical ruin.
Sunlight shone from the side, outlining his profile.
Handsome, mature, with eyes as deep as an ancient lake.
The real Hermione was stunned.
This man... who was he?
She had never seen this face before, but why?
Why did her heart suddenly tighten?
As if gently gripped by an invisible hand; it didn't hurt, yet it made her almost unable to breathe.
The man turned around, facing the adult Hermione.
He made a strange gesture, somewhat clumsily kneeling on one knee, and took a small box from his pocket, opening it.
Inside was a plain silver Ring, simple in style, yet reflecting tiny glints of starlight in the sun.
Adult Hermione looked down at him, her eyes first showing surprise, then quickly becoming veiled with a layer of crystalline tears, the Parchment scroll slipping from her hand to the floor.
But the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curve upward, and that smile... was brighter and more real than any other image in the mirror.
Chapter 53: Caesar Habus, You Ruined Everything
The real Hermione clutched her chest with her hands.
Pain.
This time, the pain was real.
It felt as if her heart had been pierced by something sharp; every beat brought a tearing agony.
Tears welled up in her eyes without warning, yet she didn't know why.
"Who is he?" she murmured to herself, her voice trembling. "I seem to... remember him..."
But she couldn't recall the name.
The name was on the tip of her tongue, ready to be spoken, yet it felt as if it were behind a thick layer of frosted glass, blurred and indistinct.
The images in the mirror continued to flow.
They were no longer grand spectacles, but fragments of daily life.
By the lakeside in Scotland.
A man wearing a wide-brimmed hat was fishing, while the adult Hermione processed documents on a picnic blanket nearby. Occasionally, she would look up at him, her eyes filled with unabashed tenderness.
The back garden of their home. A simple wedding; the sky was crystal clear as they exchanged vows, and a few curious owls perched on the fence, tilting their heads as they watched.
The kitchen late at night. Sharing a bowl of steaming cream of mushroom soup while snowflakes fell silently outside; her feet were resting on his because the floor was cold.
An afternoon in the study.
She leaned into his embrace and said, "Sometimes I feel like none of this is real."
He kissed the top of her head. "You are real, and I am real."
Every frame was so warm it was heartbreaking.
The real Hermione's tears finally fell.
She didn't know why she was crying, but watching those unfamiliar yet terrifyingly familiar scenes, she felt an overwhelming sorrow submerge her.
Then, the image jumped to a boisterous evening party.
It seemed to be a holiday; the living room was crowded with people, laughter and music intertwining.
Adult Hermione was surrounded by friends, her cheeks flushed from being slightly tipsy, her smile bright and relaxed. Among the friends were Neville and Ron.
She pushed through the crowd toward the man standing a short distance away.
She took the butterbeer from his hand and clinked glasses with a crisp sound.
With a soft 'ting,' foam bubbled cheerfully over the rim of the glass.
Amidst the cheering of their surrounding friends and family, they kissed.
The kiss was gentle and long, filled with the sweetness and tranquility of everyday life.
The night deepened and the friends departed. Adult Hermione leaned on his shoulder, eyes closed, a contented smile on her lips.
The man looked down at her, the tenderness in his eyes deep enough to melt the entire world.
Just then—
The man's body suddenly swayed.
It was a very slight movement, almost imperceptible.
But adult Hermione opened her eyes immediately, looking up at him in confusion.
The man's expression froze.
His gaze began to lose focus, and the color rapidly drained from his face.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.
"Caesar?"
Adult Hermione's voice carried confusion and a rising sense of dread.
The real Hermione felt as if she had been struck by lightning.
Caesar!
This name was like a key that instantly unlocked every sealed door.
Memories flooded back like a dam breaking.
They didn't flow in slowly; they crashed through every barrier with an unstoppable force.
Those sealed, forgotten memories buried deep within her consciousness all awakened at this moment.
London in the rain, on the top deck of a red double-decker bus; she and Caesar sat side by side as rain traced patterns on the window. There were tiny droplets of water in his hair, sparkling like crushed diamonds.
The slowly rising cabin of the London Eye, the entire city spreading out beneath their feet. He stood behind her, as quiet as a shadow, but she could feel his presence.
At the doorstep of their home at dusk, he turned to leave, while she clutched a silly stuffed rabbit, her hand gripping a warm necklace.
By the Black Lake, he knelt on one knee, holding a plain silver ring. Her tears fell as she threw herself into his arms.
A wedding under the sun, exchanging vows as the sky was washed clean and clear.
The kitchen late at night, sharing a bowl of cream of mushroom soup as snowflakes fell outside.
Walking through the crowd toward each other at the party, the butterbeer foam bubbling cheerfully over the rim... every image carried temperature, scent, and sound.
She could feel the chill of the raindrops, the heat of the necklace in her palm, the softness of the kiss, and the strength of the embrace.
She could hear him saying "Marry me," hear herself saying "I do," hear the sound of the London rain, and the laughter at the wedding.
Finally, all the images converged into a single scene—
The images in the mirror continued.
Adult Hermione fell to her knees, still holding the glass he had just been carrying.
She looked at the lifeless Caesar in her arms, looking at the spot where her lover had just been standing.
The expression on her face shifted from confusion to disbelief, and then to total collapse.
She didn't cry out; she didn't scream.
She just knelt there quietly, staring into the void for a long, long time.
Then, she slowly stood up and walked toward the bedroom.
The mirror jumped to that dim room. Adult Hermione sat by the bed, holding two crystal vials in her hand.
Her expression was terrifyingly calm.
It wasn't the calm of despair, but the relief of having made a decision.
She uncorked the vials and poured the dark purple liquid into two cups.
She raised one cup and lightly toasted the air, as if clinking glasses with someone invisible.
Then, she drank both cups of liquid.
She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, a bright smile on her face—the same one she wore when he proposed in the mirror.
She was waiting for him.
Waiting for that "absolute that cannot be truly separated."
The real Hermione's scream tore through the silence of the room.
"NO—!!!"
She collapsed to the floor, her hands clutching her chest tightly, as if she wanted to rip out her heart, which was aching so much it had almost stopped beating.
Tears didn't just fall; they gushed out, large droplets hitting the floor and soaking her robes.
Why did you leave me?
I clearly didn't ask for the truth about that matter!
I clearly chose to believe you.
Chose to live in that "dream that was too beautiful"!
And you... you discarded everything.
You made me look like a fool.
You lied to me.
You ruined everything I had.
Those warm memories, those sweet vows, those nights spent in each other's arms, those "now" moments I thought would last forever.
And finally... finally you even left, leaving the me of that world... to choose to die with you.
"Caesar Habus..."
The name squeezed out from between her trembling lips, every syllable soaked in blood and tears.
She remembered it all.
All the love, all the pain, all the warmth, and all the betrayal.
The image in the mirror froze on that face, sleeping peacefully.
Adult Hermione lay on the bed with a serene expression, as if she were in a beautiful dream from which she would never wake.
The real Hermione slowly stood up.
Tears were still flowing, but the look in her eyes had changed.
From the agony of collapse, it turned into a cold, burning resolve, like a black flame.
She looked at the version of herself in the mirror who chose to die with him.
"Caesar Habus."
This time, her voice no longer trembled.
It was calm and cold, like a blade dipped in poison.
"You lied to me."
"You ruined everything I had."
Chapter 54: She Actually Transmigrated Her Soul
She took a step forward, almost pressing against the mirror's surface.
The mirror reflected her face, covered in tears yet eyes filled with ruthlessness, forming a cruel contrast with the peaceful, sleeping her on the bed.
"Don't let me find you."
Every word seemed squeezed from between her teeth, carrying bone-deep hatred and an even deeper heartbreak that she herself was unwilling to admit.
"Otherwise... I will definitely make you pay the price.
For everything you took away, for the pain you left behind, for the... me who followed you and left."
After saying that, she took one last look at the sleeping self in the mirror, turned, and rushed out of the room.
Her robes fluttered behind her like a banner of despair, the sound of her footsteps hurried away in the corridor, finally swallowed by the darkness.
The room was deathly silent.
Ron's mouth hung open, his face pale: "Merlin... Hermione... what on earth did she see?"
Harry was also too shocked to speak.
He had never seen Hermione with such an expression—the kind of pain overflowing from the depths of her soul, the kind of anger that seemed ready to destroy everything.
Caesar stood in the shadows, his blood seemingly freezing at this moment.
Although he hadn't seen the scene in the mirror with his own eyes, when the name "Caesar Habus" was spat out from Hermione's mouth, everything was beyond doubt.
Caesar almost spat blood: "System, how can you be so useless? You can't even handle an NPC you created yourself. You even want me to clean up your mess."
[System: That wasn't an NPC I created. The real world is the main world of Harry Potter, and the simulated world is a parallel sub-world of Harry Potter. Both are real, functioning worlds; I only helped you travel to the parallel sub-world.]
[Furthermore, importing simulated emotional memories essentially merges the character's soul from the parallel sub-world with the one in the real main world. Simply put, you can understand it as soul transmigration. You transmigrated there, and she transmigrated here. A merged soul, when stimulated, naturally tends toward self-awakening.]
"So you're saying, the one I screwed over really was her!"
Caesar had previously thought it was just identical memories; he hadn't expected it to be soul transmigration.
[System: Yes, the simulated worlds are actually parallel worlds. Memory import is soul transmigrationinto the real world, and memory sealing is soul transmigration without awakening.]
[In essence, the Hermione before she looked into the Mirror of Erised was already transmigrated but unawakened. Now she has awakened but hasn't discovered you yet.]
"But even if she remembers everything from the simulation, why would she say 'the me who followed you and left'..." Caesar's voice stopped abruptly.
He suddenly remembered Hermione's last words before she left.
Why say "the me who followed you and left"?
Logically, after the simulation ended, his self in that world should have died of a sudden illness.
No matter how smart Hermione was, it was impossible for her to know she was in a simulated world, so how could she talk about following?
[System Reminder: Please stand before the mirror and recall the following fragments from the simulated world—]
Caesar hesitated for a moment but eventually walked toward the magic mirror.
The memories weren't forcibly summoned by the system but surged from the depths of his own consciousness—those tiny fragments once ignored now all surfaced, blindingly clear... At the dining table of the Hampstead home, the fireplace light was warm and bright.
"It's like a dream." Hermione raised her glass, her smile unreally bright, "A toast to the starting point! A toast to family!"
...In the study during the afternoon, sunlight cut geometric patterns on the floor.
When he massaged her shoulders, she closed her eyes and sighed softly: "Sometimes I feel like all of this isn't real... like a dream that's too beautiful."
...In the kitchen late at night, snow falling outside the window.
While sharing mushroom soup, the fireplace light cast their shadows on the wall, warmly overlapping.
She suddenly whispered: "If this really is a dream... then I hope I never wake up."
...At a noisy party, she walked through the crowd, slightly tipsy.
They kissed amidst the cheering of friends and family. In the dead of night, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, her voice muffled: "Sometimes I'm really afraid... afraid that this is a dream."
"...So those words she hesitated to say were never about questioning the truth of Hogwarts' destruction. Was I too lax, or is this girl a bit too smart..."
Only now did Caesar truly understand—
That was a choice she had already made after seeing through everything.
She was using this way to tell him: I know you might not be real, I know you're hiding something, I know all of this might be an illusion.
But I'm willing.
I'm willing to give the real me to the possibly illusory you.
All the memory fragments pieced together at this moment, pointing to a single cruel truth:
She had known all along.
This woman, known as the "most outstanding witch of her time," this Hermione Granger who could always find the truth amidst the mist—
How could she possibly have noticed nothing?
She had sensed his detachment, the cracks in the story, all the illogical details.
But she chose not to ask.
Chose to believe.
Chose to indulge in that "dream that's too beautiful," even if it really was a dream.
All she wanted was him. Real, illusory, complete, broken—as long as it was him.
[System Supplement: Does the Host understand now? The Hermione Granger in the simulation had already inferred and accepted the fact that 'you might be illusory' from your behavioral logic.]
[She chose to love you not because she believed you were completely real, nor because she believed this love was completely real, but because she was willing to give her real self for this relationship—she was willing to believe, and to love you.]
[Friendly Reminder: The Hermione in the simulation always thought that your marrying her represented an 'absolute'—a promise that you could take her away with you in the future.]
"Take her away together..."
The past was like a painting; scene after scene made Caesar recall those beautiful times.
Light and shadow still flowed in the mirror, reflecting a wedding.
The sunlight in the back garden was clear as crystal. She was dressed in pure white, her curly hair adorned with delicate lilies.
Before speaking her vows, she paused, her gaze seemingly passing through the person in front of her, looking toward a very distant place—
Meeting the eyes of the Caesar outside the mirror.
In the mirror, her voice was clear and firm:
"A long time ago, someone gave me a gift.
He said it represented an 'absolute'—
An absolute that can never truly be separated, no matter how far apart or what happens.
Today, I want to give that person an answer."
She raised her hand, her fingertips lightly brushing the front of her clothes.
The bi-winged bird necklace was no longer there, but the movement had become a habit etched into her bones and blood.
"My answer to you is..."
"Don't say yes to him!" Caesar blurted out subconsciously.
Subsequently realizing his own behavior, he stood frozen before the mirror.
"What... what am I saying?"
But time in the mirror remained unmoved.
The image jumped, showing himself at the end of the simulation.
"I'm sorry, little Hermione."
The Caesar in the simulation whispered to the empty white void, as if she could still hear him.
"That rainy afternoon, that rabbit, that necklace... and everything that came after, it was all too beautiful. So beautiful that I couldn't bear for them to become part of your painful memories.
Just let you remember the original me. That stranger who came in the rain and left at dusk.
At least that way, you won't be repeatedly tormented by this false memory in the years to come.
You will remember the promise of the necklace, remember the warmth of that afternoon, and then..."
Chapter 55: How to Comfort the Abandoned Hermione?
After I die, forget me slowly.
And the great power of time will take away all feelings.
Continue your life, and become the person you want to be.
Only this time, I'm afraid... I can't take you home."
These words were spoken so grandiosely at the time, as if it were truly just a dream of a clean break—
The dream is over; you live your life, and I go my way.
My departure sounded like a form of fulfillment.
But standing before the mirror now, looking at her gaze that already knew everything yet remained deeply mired, Caesar felt that every "for your own good" had become the most hypocritical of blades.
It turned out his so-called "fulfillment" was nothing more than a self-deceiving escape.
In the real world, Caesar could no longer maintain his composure.
"No wonder... you hate me so much."
He suddenly understood.
He understood what "the me who followed you" meant.
He understood why Hermione looked like her mind had been broken.
The image in the mirror finally froze on the scene he least wanted to see.
After that party, the adult Hermione knelt on the floor, still holding the wine glass he had just held.
She looked down at the lifeless Caesar in her arms, then stared blankly at the spot where her lover had stood moments before.
The expression on her face shifted from daze to shock, then to a shattering collapse.
She didn't cry out or scream.
She just knelt there quietly, staring at the empty space ahead for a long, long time.
Then, she slowly rose and walked toward the bedroom.
The mirror's surface shifted. In the dim room, the adult Hermione sat by the bed, holding two crystal vials.
Her expression was so calm it was unsettling—it wasn't the silence of despair, but a near-gentle relief after making a decision.
She uncorked them and poured the dark purple liquid into two glasses.
She raised one glass and lightly clinked it against the air, as if drinking with someone invisible.
Then, she quietly drank both glasses of liquid.
She lay down, closed her eyes, and a bright, warm smile—the same one from the proposal in the mirror—appeared on the corners of her mouth.
She was waiting.
Waiting for that "absolute that can never truly be separated."
She believed her lover would surely take her home together.
This was what he had promised—
"I promise, after leaving the station, I will definitely send you home safely. Please trust me, little Hermione."
All that remained in the mirror was that plain ring, the rabbit doll with one ear sewn crookedly, and a yellowed ticket from Exeter to London.
Caesar was waiting for his Hermione.
Hermione was waiting for her Caesar.
Going home together... in the empty room.
Harry and Ron had already run off to chase the Hermione who had just left; only Caesar remained.
"No wonder you hate me so much... Is it because I didn't take you with me? This is going to be difficult."
Looking at that ticket, Caesar stood before the mirror, unmoving for a long time.
His gaze was locked onto the young face in the mirror, lying on the bed with eyes closed and a smile.
That smile was as bright as ever, just like at the time of the proposal.
Waiting for Caesar's unfulfilled promise.
The girl who had once fought the whole world for him, standing side by side with him through life and death in the night of Hogwarts, had actually chosen to die for love, believing that "he would take her home."
Just a little more.
That silhouette belonging only to him, buried in thick pages in a train carriage from Exeter to London in 1990, with fluffy brown hair swaying slightly with the train... would never have come back.
However, a new problem followed.
How to comfort the current Hermione who had been abandoned?
...The Daily Prophet, front-page headline.
Unsolved Case of the Century Shakes the wizarding world: Legendary Witch and Former HogwartsPrincipal Both Pass Away
[Special Report] Yesterday morning, a heartbreaking tragedy shocked the entire British wizarding society.
Ms. Hermione Granger, the Minister for Magic once hailed as the "most outstanding Witch of our time," and her husband, former Hogwarts Principal Caesar Habus, were found peacefully deceased in their Surrey estate.
According to the preliminary investigation by the Auror Office, there were no signs of break-in or struggle in the room. The two lay side-by-side on the bed, hands quietly clasped, their expressions as peaceful as if they had fallen into the same deep sleep. All evidence points to the two voluntarily choosing their end.
The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement confirmed somberly at the press conference: "The field investigation has ruled out the possibility of homicide. This is a lamentable tragedy, and we extend our deepest condolences to the deceased."
However, this failed to calm the public's surging questions. Both of the deceased held important positions and had positive images, with no sign of suicidal intent.
Particularly baffling is that just a week before the tragedy, Ms. Granger had delivered a stirring speech at the International Confederation of Wizards about the future of magical society; Mr. Habus had been devoted to writing a history of magical education.
"We will never accept this conclusion without answers!" Outside the Ministry of Magic, crowds held up banners, their voices unceasing.
Ron Weasley, current Deputy Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and Hogwarts alumnus, told reporters with a grave face: "Hermione was the most resilient and clear-headed person I've ever met. There must be more to this."
Speculation and whispers immediately filled the streets. In the pubs of Knockturn Alley, someone mentioned remnants of Dark Arts forces.
Wizarding Weekly vaguely linked it to the old matters of the dissolution of Hogwarts and the reorganization of the Ministry of Magic years ago.
Some even connected it to the unsolved mysteries of the final battle over a decade ago.
"This is too unusual," Filius Flitwick, former Hogwarts Professor and famous magical historian, said with a trembling voice. "For two such important figures to leave at the same time in this manner... the wizarding world hasn't been shrouded in such unease for a long time."
In further searches, Aurors discovered several startling items deep in Ms. Granger's desk:
A plain silver ring, their engagement token, symbolizing an unswerving life together.
A rough fabric long-eared rabbit doll with a crookedly sewn ear; pressing a button would play a blurry recording, seemingly a prize from a shooting game at a fair.
A yellowed ticket from Exeter to London, with a small line written in neat handwriting: "The best birthday gift."
No signature, no date, no context.
These ordinary objects were sealed together; their connection to this tragedy, like the rest of the fog surrounding the case, remains unsolvable.
The heroes of old took their final bow in such a quiet and sudden way, leaving the entire wizarding society in a chill of mixed confusion and suspicion.
Shops in Diagon Alley closed early, and street talk was hushed, as if an invisible mist had quietly permeated every corner of the wizarding world along with this unsolved case.
The Ministry of Magic has announced the formation of a special investigation team, promising a "thorough investigation of all suspicious points." However, whether it can dispel this thick fog remains unknown.
(Reported by Staff Reporter Rita Skeeter)
[Volume 1 · Hermione · Sour · End]
Chapter 56: Luna Lovegood
Early the next morning.
The Gryffindor Tower common room was filled with the aroma of fried bacon and toasted bread, along with the slightly hurried bustle of students getting ready for class.
Harry and Ron were squeezed at a table near the fireplace, breakfast sitting barely touched before them, while their eyes frequently darted toward the entrance of the girls' dormitory stairs.
"Hermione hasn't come down yet?" Harry lowered his voice uneasily. "This isn't like her. She never misses breakfast, and she's never late."
Ron speared a sausage and chewed absentmindedly, mumbling, "Maybe she went straight to the Library? You know her; she might have been spooked by that broken mirror last night and wanted to figure out what it actually was."
"No," Harry shook his head, his brow furrowed. "When she ran out last night... she looked very wrong. We have to find her."
He remembered the tears streaming down Hermione's face before she bolted out, the cold hatred in her eyes, and that nonsensical phrase: 'I won't let you go.'
Caesar stood by the fireplace, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the wand in his robe pocket.
His expression was calm, his loss of composure from that night hidden deep within. However, the faint dark circles under his eyes betrayed the fact that he had barely slept last night.
They waited in the common room a while longer, even asking a few Gryffindor girls heading to class to check Hermione's dormitory. The reply they got was that the bed was tidy, but she wasn't there.
Just as the two were getting increasingly anxious and preparing to head to the Library or classrooms to find her...
One of Ron's friends, another student in the lower years of Gryffindor, came running over out of breath.
"Ron! Harry! I just... I just saw Granger!"
"Where?" the two asked in unison.
The other student gestured wildly, "Over by Ravenclaw Tower! She went that way early this morning. She looked terrifying; I said hello to her and she didn't even acknowledge me!"
Ravenclaw?
Harry and Ron exchanged looks, both seeing confusion and a hint of an ominous premonition in each other's eyes.
"Ravenclaw?" Ron scratched his hair, puzzled. "What's she doing there?"
Caesar remained silent; he knew why.
However, just to be safe, Caesar didn't intend to approach her using his real identity right now.
After all, this Hermione seemed a bit broken.
She was no longer the obedient yes-man she had been in the simulation.
If he carelessly admitted it...
What greeted him might be a kiss.
Or it might be... "We have to go find her," Harry said decisively.
Without time for further thought, Harry and Ron immediately grabbed their bags, rushed out of Gryffindor Tower, and ran toward Ravenclaw Tower at the other end of the Castle.
When they breathlessly climbed up Ravenclaw Tower—which had no stairs—they found they needed to answer the bronze knocker's question at the entrance.
Fortunately, the knocker's question today wasn't too tricky; it was about the "boundary between knowledge and wisdom."
Harry haphazardly answered, "Knowledge is accumulation, wisdom is choice," and somehow managed to pass.
But once inside, they found Hermione was not in the common room.
Several early-rising Ravenclaw students looked curiously at the two intruding Gryffindors.
Harry stopped a friendly-looking girl: "Excuse me, have you seen Hermione Granger? From Gryffindor."
The girl blinked. "Oh, that very clever Muggle-born Witch? She was here just now. She went straight to find our Quidditch captain, Rojer Venus. It seemed like she had something to ask."
Following the direction the girl pointed, Harry and Ron saw Hermione and the Ravenclaw female prefect and Quidditch captain, Rojer Venus, at the end of a corridor lined with diagrams of strange astronomical instruments.
Hermione had her back to them, standing very straight, but the line of her shoulders appeared exceptionally tense. Rojer Venus looked blank and politely confused.
"...So, you really don't know someone named Caesar Habus? A Ravenclaw History of Magic Professor?" Hermione's voice drifted over, deeper than usual and carrying a desperately suppressed tremor.
"I'm quite sure, Miss Granger," Rojer Venus's voice was gentle but firm. "Our house's History of MagicProfessor has always been Professor Binns, though he... well, he's already a ghost.
As for a Professor or student named Caesar Habus, at least in the years I've been here, I've never heard of him.
Are you sure you haven't remembered the house or the name wrong?"
Hermione's body swayed almost imperceptibly.
She didn't press further, only murmuring in a low voice as if talking to herself, "Why... why didn't you come to Hogwarts, Caesar..."
This whisper happened to be heard by the approaching Harry and Ron.
Ron scratched his flaming red hair and whispered to Harry in confusion, "Is she calling for Caesar? That's not right, isn't your cousin a Dursley?"
Harry was also completely baffled, his voice equally low: "Clearly not my cousin... her emotions are way too intense. What on earth did she see in that mirror?"
The two remembered Hermione shouting "Caesar" at the mirror last night, and now she had run to Ravenclaw looking for a non-existent Professor "Caesar Habus"... it was all too bizarre.
Following behind the two and entering the Ravenclaw common room at almost the same time, the slightly tightened string in Caesar's heart completely relaxed.
Good.
Hermione's suspicion was directed toward a "non-existent" entity. Rojer Venus's testimony was impeccable.
Harry and Ron's attention was entirely drawn by Hermione's abnormal emotions, causing them to overlook other possibilities.
The explanation he had prepared about the "mirror inducing hallucinations or fear" now seemed like it might not even be needed.
Hermione seemed... indeed not to have connected the "Caesar" in the mirror with the him in reality.
Just then, a light, airy voice drifted from the direction of the spiral staircase:
"Sometimes, the boundary between reality and dreams is blurrier than we imagine."
Everyone turned to look.
A girl stood at the foot of the stairs.
She had long, pale blonde hair, very faint eyebrows, and large, misty eyes that looked as if they were always seeing things others couldn't.
Most noticeable was her strange attire: a necklace made of butterbeer corks and earrings shaped like radishes.
But even so, it was hard to hide her cute and pretty appearance.
Luna Lovegood.
She tilted her head, observing everyone in the room with those misty eyes, finally letting her gaze rest on Caesar.
"You look," Luna said softly, her voice as ethereal as wind chimes, "like you're hiding a very big secret."
Caesar's body tensed instantly.
Luna walked over step by step, those seemingly vacant eyes now startlingly sharp.
She stopped in front of Caesar, standing slightly on tiptoe, almost touching his face.
"I see them," she said softly. "You have a lot of Wrackspurts around you. They usually buzz around people who are hiding heavy secrets."
Ron muttered quietly, "Wrackspurts? What are those?"
Caesar's heart skipped a beat almost imperceptibly.
Luna... her intuition was unnervingly sharp.
Chapter 57: Tell Me, Where is Caesar?
Subsequently, Caesar's face quickly adopted an expression of slight helplessness and confusion as he met Luna's gaze.
"Secrets? Miss Lovegood, I think everyone has things in their hearts that they don't want to tell others."
Hermione didn't pay attention to this side, only hurriedly thanked Rojer Venus, then lowered her head and walked quickly past Harry and Ron, leaving Ravenclaw Tower directly.
She didn't even spare Caesar a glance; after all, in her eyes, this tail-ender had nothing relevant to her besides a name.
Harry and Ron hurriedly chased after her, leaving behind a bewildered Rojer Venus and Luna, who was still looking at Caesar with that ethereal yet sharp gaze.
Seeing this, Caesar also turned to leave. His back was straight and his pace steady, as if that moment of piercing scrutiny had never happened.
But the next moment.
"Your secret," Luna continued, her eyes staring straight at Caesar, "is related to what that classmate is looking for, isn't it?"
"I..." Caesar spoke, his tone as flat as water: "I don't know what you're talking about."
Luna shook her head gently, her cork necklace swaying with her movement: "You're lying. Your eyes are lying."
Caesar didn't explain further and just walked away.
In the following days, life in the Castle seemingly returned to normal.
Although Hermione's mood remained low, she at least attended classes and completed her homework normally, though she had become much more silent.
The Quidditch season was in full swing, with the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match imminent. Most of Harry and Ron's energy was occupied by training and excitement, and their unusual attention toward Hermione slightly diminished.
Caesar, meanwhile, utilized every bit of free time to continue his preparations.
Besides continuing to take the improved "Cascading Bath" he had concocted for himself, he began working on another more pressing task.
Targeted at Quirrell.
Or rather, the Potion for the one on the back of Quirrell's head.
The Philosopher's Stone couldn't be obtained by bypassing Lord Voldemort, so he had to find his own way.
He needed to make some preparations to ensure he could get the Philosopher's Stone instead of failing miserably and losing his life.
This afternoon, there was no Quidditch training, and the Castle was relatively quiet.
Caesar confirmed that the Potion Class classroom was unoccupied, so he slipped in with his prepared materials, locked the door behind him, and set up a simple anti-disturbance spell.
The liquid in the cauldron displayed an ominous, constantly shifting dark purple, sometimes glinting with a metallic luster, and at other times appearing like turbid oil.
Caesar focused intently on controlling the heat, adding the processed materials in a specific order and rhythm. Occasionally, a tiny wisp of magic flickered from his fingertips, guiding the magical reactions within the liquid toward stability.
Just as he reached the most critical neutralization step, slowly sprinkling a pinch of Moonstone crystals ground into silver-gray powder into the cauldron—
The wooden cabinet in the corner of the classroom was suddenly pushed open gently.
Alarm bells rang in Caesar's mind, but his hands didn't falter in the slightest as he steadily sprinkled in the last bit of powder.
Simultaneously, he quickly stirred three and a half times with his wand. The color of the liquid in the cauldron suddenly settled, turning into a relatively mild light gray, and the pungent odor also greatly diminished.
Only then did he turn around.
Two people were standing there.
Hermione Granger and... Luna Lovegood.
Hermione's face was still somewhat pale, but her gaze was as sharp as a blade, locking onto Caesar and the slightly smoking cauldron behind him.
Luna stood by her side, tilting her head as if studying a non-existent pattern on the ceiling.
Caesar's mind raced.
How could they suddenly be here?
Time... right, the Time-Turner!
Because of course conflicts, Hermione had applied to use a Time-Turner. It was entirely possible she used the extra time to track or investigate!
"Mr. Dursley," Hermione spoke, her voice calm yet carrying an unquestionable inquiry, "what are you doing?"
Caesar suppressed his momentary shock, a well-timed expression of surprise and impatience appearing on his face.
"Do I need to report what I'm doing to you?"
Hearing this, Luna gave a soft hum and turned to Hermione, saying in that ethereal yet firm voice: "If you are looking for someone, he might know some of the answers you need."
Luna!
Caesar instantly understood who the culprit was.
"Luna, you'll regret this."
After saying that, he looked at Hermione again: "Hermione, I'm just here to practice some knowledge from Potion Class."
Hermione was clearly not fooled by this lame excuse.
She took a step forward, her torch-like gaze quickly sweeping over Caesar.
"Your eyes are darting, your breathing is 0.3 seconds faster than usual, and your left fingers are unconsciously rubbing against your sleeve. These are your little habits when you're nervous."
Hermione's voice sounded like she was stating objective facts, her speech fast and clear:
"The powder on your robes is the silver-gray fluorescence that only appears when Moonstone and Billywig stings are ground extremely fine. This isn't part of the Potion Class syllabus."
Her gaze fell on the cauldron again, her pupils shrinking slightly, "And—you're brewing 'Cascading Bath'? How do you know its production method!
No... it's not exactly the same; the smell and color are different, but the basic framework is very similar! Are you improving it? Or using it for something else?"
Caesar: "..."
He felt speechless inside.
He could only say that as expected of Hermione, she was simply too clever.
With just a few seconds of observation and smell, she had almost punctured most of his cover.
"Alright... you've guessed part of it. This is indeed related to 'Cascading Bath,' but it's not for me."
"Then who is it for?" Hermione pressed, her gaze becoming even sharper.
"It's..." Caesar hesitated deliberately, as if debating whether to tell, then as if making up his mind, lowered his voice, "It's for my teacher. He needs a... special Potion to stabilize his magical condition."
"Your teacher?" Hermione's breathing suddenly stalled, her eyes widening as she pressed a step forward, "What teacher? Where is he? What's his name?"
Her reaction was more intense than Caesar had anticipated, carrying a momentum of total disregard for anything else.
Following the pre-set script, Caesar continued to let it slip: "He... he taught me many things. He said he took me as a disciple because I'm handsome. He has the same name as me, quite a coincidence, called Caesar Habus."
"Caesar Habus!"
Hermione's voice suddenly rose, trembling with disbelief.
She almost recklessly rushed forward, grabbing Caesar's robes with such force that even Caesar stumbled,
"Where is he?! Tell me! Where is he now!"
Her other hand had already reached for her wand, her eyes swirling with extremely complex light.
Urgency, anger, pain, and a hint of almost desperate expectation.
Chapter 58: Starting the Second Simulation
Caesar's tone was flat: "He went to the Himalayas, saying he was going to investigate an important ancient magic ruin."
"The snowy plateau..." Hermione murmured, her grip on his robes loosening slightly, but her gaze remained locked onto his face. "Why didn't he come to find me? Instead... he took you as a student?"
She sized Caesar up, her voice filled with unspeakable pain and a near-jealous rage, as if she were scrutinizing a crude forgery.
Then, as if suddenly snapping back to her senses, she abruptly let go.
Taking a step back, a mix of disgust and resolve appeared on her face. Her voice was as cold as ice:
"You think you're worthy of being his student? You gave up his whereabouts without even being threatened!
From now on, you are forbidden from calling yourself his student! Otherwise..."
Before she could finish, the wand in her hand rose slightly, its tip pointed directly at Caesar.
"Is there something you need from my teacher?"
Caesar asked calmly, getting to the heart of the matter. He needed to know the answer to plan his next steps.
"Are you two still in contact?" Hermione asked instead of answering. Her tone softened slightly, yet remained tense. "Bring him here, or tell me how to contact him."
Caesar's mind raced. He glanced at Luna, who was quietly watching the confrontation, and a mischievous thought suddenly surfaced:
"There are some special ways to contact him, but they're not very stable.
Teacher mentioned that he wanted to visit Ravenclaw House at the end of the year. He heard there's a very clever new student there.
He wants to observe them and consider taking them on as a student..."
As expected, Hermione's expression changed instantly. Her lips turned white from being pursed so hard, and her eyes swirled with hurt, anger, and a sense of abandonment.
"Take a student? Who!"
"I suspect it's—" Caesar was about to shift the blame onto someone else.
At that moment, Luna, who had been watching quietly, seemed to see through Caesar's ill intentions.
She suddenly spoke in her ethereal voice, softly yet clearly interjecting:
"He's lying."
The air seemed to freeze instantly.
Luna's misty large eyes turned toward Hermione, and she added with a hint of regret: "The Blibbering Humdingers suddenly shook violently just now and then huddled together. That's a typical reaction to a lie."
She tilted her head to look at Caesar: "And regarding the part about the Himalayas and the Ravenclawnew student, the color of your emotions is wrong. It looks like a patchwork of colored scraps thrown together at the last minute."
"Dursley!" The moment Luna finished speaking, Hermione glared at Caesar, her voice as cold as if it had been dipped in ice.
Caesar opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
As long as Luna, this 'bug' of a person, was on the other side, no amount of flowery words would help him.
Sure enough, Luna looked at him, then at Hermione, and added airily:
"The colored scraps are increasing."
"Dursley, it seems I'll have to make you tell the truth!"
Hermione extended her wand, intending to cast a spell to force the truth out of him.
At the critical moment, Caesar turned his eyes toward the pale-blonde girl and asked:
"Luna, will you regret this?"
The spell Hermione was about to cast faltered slightly, wondering if Caesar had been driven mad by fear.
Beside her, a flash of doubt crossed the eyes of Luna, who always seemed to see through everything.
At that very moment, Caesar whispered in his heart:
"System, start the Villain Life Simulation now!"
[Please select the final mission objective for this Villain Life Simulation:]
[1. As an undercover agent sent by Lord Voldemort to Hogwarts, become the third generation Dark Lord. Mission Reward: Intelligent Scholar; Difficulty: B; Identity: Son of a Death Eater]
[2. As an undercover agent sent by Dumbledore to Lord Voldemort, become the third generation Dark Lord. Mission Reward: Wise Scholar; Difficulty: A; Identity: Son of a Hogwarts Graduate]
[3. Become a double agent for Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort, and train someone to become the third generation Dark Lord. Mission Reward: Genius Scholar, Magical Creatures Expert; Difficulty: S; Identity: Son of a Ministry of Magic Auror]
"Undercover..."
Caesar scanned the options without pausing.
—Was there even a need to hesitate?
"Genius Scholar" was what he lacked most right now.
His current intellect might be enough to deal with Harry or Ron, but once he faced truly brilliant people like Hermione or Luna, his schemes were immediately seen through.
Caesar couldn't see other people's 'Talent Tags,' but he was certain that if they existed, Hermionewould definitely be wearing a "Genius Scholar" level tag.
Furthermore, that phrase in the third option, "train someone"... His target had already landed on Luna.
After the simulation ended, he would have to make her defend against Hermione.
Whoever caused the trouble would have to clean it up!
"System, I choose the third option."
[You have selected the final mission objective for this simulation: Become a double agent and train someone to become the third generation Dark Lord.]
[Initial character selected: Son of a Ministry of Magic Auror]
[Detected that the Host already possesses the talents 'Legendary Magic Talent' and 'Animagus'. You may now choose three talents from the following ten:]
[Redemption, Master of Illusion, Magical Creatures Expert, Gifted, Parseltongue, Ancient Magic of Love, Genius Scholar, Flying Master, Potions Master, Dark Magic Genius]
Caesar quickly scanned the list, his thoughts racing.
There were two major hurdles that must be cleared for this S-rank mission.
First, becoming a double agent for Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort.
In the original work, only Snape achieved this. The most feasible path was to follow his old route—first join Lord Voldemort, then "defect" to Dumbledore's side. This was easier than doing it the other way around.
Second, training someone to become the third generation Dark Lord.
He had already decided on Luna as the candidate.
And to be able to defend against Hermione in the real world, he had to train her to be quite powerful in the simulation.
But the question was, how to train her?
In the original work, Luna's wisdom was not the same kind as Hermione's.
Hermione's wisdom was that of a "Conqueror of the Known World": relying on hard work, memory, and logic to master existing rules. She was the perfect student within the system.
Luna's wisdom was that of an "Explorer of the Unknown": relying on intuition, faith, and a unique perspective to challenge the boundaries of perception. She was a discoverer of possibilities.
Both were important: Hermione kept the world running, while Luna reminded people that there was still a sky beyond the world.
In Caesar's view, Luna was the true embodiment of the Ravenclaw spirit.
That "extraordinary wisdom" in her was not about higher grades, but a perspective that transcended common sense.
It wasn't an accumulation of knowledge, but the ability to understand the world, connect all things, and find one's own place.
Therefore, Luna's wisdom was the most unique and underrated in Harry Potter.
As the "embodiment of the Ravenclaw spirit," her potential far exceeded what was shown in the original work.
However, Luna's personality didn't seem to favor conflict; she was single-mindedly focused on studying those Magical Creatures.
After the finale of the original work, Luna became a famous Magizoologist, discovering and recording many new Magical Creatures.
She didn't become a Minister for Magic like Hermione, engaging in politics and wizarding reforms.
Caesar suddenly had a flash of inspiration.
Luna seemed to have a talent that no one else possessed.
She could see many creatures that others couldn't and communicate with them.
This was absolutely a brand new field of magic, and it was a pity that in the original work, Luna only used this talent to record creatures.
Thinking of this...
A sharp light flashed in Caesar's eyes; his mind was made up.
"This time, I definitely won't be soft-hearted!"
Chapter 59: Stay Away From Her
[Initial Talents Selected: Redemption, Genius Scholar, Master of Illusion.]
[Note: Harry is not present in the simulated world; after all, the system cannot simulate the actions of the child of destiny.]
[Simulation begins. Duration: Twenty years.]
Immediately after, Caesar felt a familiar sensation once again.
His consciousness was instantly pulled from his body, falling into another world that seemed both real and illusory.
[You were born into a pure-blood wizarding family. Both your parents are Aurors for the Ministry of Magic, belonging to the low-profile Wilkes family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.]
[In your fifth year, a classified mission that they shouldn't have been assigned to left your mother forever lost in the aftermath of a brief clash between Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort in the Albanian forest.]
[That skirmish was not recorded in any official archives. Your father only brought back your mother's Yew wand, snapped in two with its core charred black.]
[After the war, your father Shelby Wilkes's hair turned mostly grey overnight. He turned down a promotion to the Department of Dangerous Affairs in the Ministry of Magic, using his savings to purchase an old house with a large garden on the outskirts of Exeter in the Muggle world.]
[This new residence happened to be next door to the family of Xenophilius Lovegood, the editor-in-chief of The Quibbler. The decision to move was hasty and silent; your father only said "it's quiet here," but you knew this was exactly what you wanted.]
[The primary school there was a mix of Muggle children and a few wizarding descendants who had yet to show their talents. In the spring of your ninth year, you saw seven-year-old Luna Lovegood for the first time under an oak tree by the playground.]
[She sat alone, a notebook filled with drawings of strange creatures spread across her knees, softly humming a tuneless melody to a group of ants carrying breadcrumbs, as sunlight danced on her pale blonde hair through the leaves.]
[You did not approach her immediately. The mission time was ticking, but contacting her too early could easily arouse suspicion. You simply observed quietly, using the insight granted by the "Genius Scholar" talent to analyze her behavior patterns and sensing her peculiar affinity for natural creatures.]
[You spent half a year adapting to the slowly growing magic within this young body while cautiously regaining control over basic spells during your father's strict "self-protection magic" training.]
[Finally, on a rainy afternoon in late autumn, just as you sensed the flow of magic within you stabilizing, you saw several figures pushing a pale blonde girl toward a deserted, rainy spot behind the school building.]
[She clutched a thick book tightly, her pale blue leather shoes slipping repeatedly on the wet ground. You knew the time had come.]
With a jolt of spirit, Caesar felt his consciousness fully merge into this young body.
He quickly adapted to his surroundings, his gaze sharp as a blade as he swept it forward.
At some point, a fine drizzle began to fall from the sky.
Several figures were pushing a pale blonde girl toward a deserted, rainy spot behind the school building.
Luna clutched a thick book tightly to her chest, her small pale blue leather shoes slipping on the damp ground, making every step look clumsy and staggering.
Since morning, she had carried a faint, lingering scent similar to swamp weeds.
"What's that smell?"
"Ugh—it's Luna!"
"Did she fall into a sewer?"
During the break, three fourth-grade boys cornered her in the corridor behind the Great Hall.
The leader, named Derek, pinched his nose exaggeratedly and said in a piercing voice:
"I heard Her mother is researching talking mushrooms? What a shame, even mushrooms are more normal than your whole family."
Luna kept her head down, her gaze fixed firmly on the tips of her shoes.
There was a small, unwashable, slimy green stain there.
"Speak up, Loony."
Another boy shoved her shoulder hard:
"Let's send you out into the rain to wash off that stench!"
Luna fell into the muddy, rainy ground.
She remembered Her mother saying that if someone bullies you, tell them it's Wrackspurts affecting their judgment.
"You... might be being bothered by Wrackspurts."
She bit her lip and whispered this "standard answer."
The boys burst into a fit of exaggerated laughter.
"What did she say?"
"Absolute nonsense!"
"As expected of a little loony!"
Derek grinned, showing a smug smile, and reached out to grab her fluffy, pale blonde hair.
Luna closed her eyes tightly.
The expected tugging and pain did not come.
"Stay away from her."
A voice came from the shadows at the corner of the corridor.
Luna opened her eyes.
She saw a black-haired boy standing a few steps away.
He looked a year or two older than her, wearing a clean, crisp white shirt and dark trousers, holding an old book with no writing on the cover.
When he looked at people, his eyes had a clarity and sharpness that didn't match his age, as if he could see right through appearances to the essence.
Caesar Wilkes. The "policeman's son" (Caesar's father's Muggle identity) who had just moved in next door, and also the "gloomy fellow" who had the best grades in class but almost never spoke to anyone.
The bullying Derek froze for a moment, sized Caesar up, and then sneered, "Oh, the policeman's young master wants to mind someone else's business? Didn't your dad teach you not to hang around with loo—"
"I said," Caesar interrupted him, his voice not rising in the slightest.
But the sharp "snap" of the thick book closing in his hand sounded exceptionally clear in the empty corridor, even carrying a certain invisible pressure,
"Stay away from her."
For some reason, the three fourth-grade boys looked at each other and actually took half a step back in unison subconsciously.
Derek's face fell a bit; he glared fiercely at Caesar but ultimately didn't dare to step forward again.
He only dropped a "You just wait" before hurrying away with his companions.
The corridor fell silent instantly, leaving only the sound of rain tapping against the glass.
Luna looked up, her heart pounding in her thin chest like a frightened bird.
She saw Caesar walking toward her, stopping a step away, maintaining a distance that wouldn't make her feel pressured.
"Are you okay?" Caesar asked.
At the same time, his gaze swept over Luna's slightly reddened eyes and her hand tightly gripping the hem of her clothes.
He hadn't expected Luna to have had this experience before entering Hogwarts.
But it was normal; even after joining Hogwarts, she was still isolated and bullied by other students because of her eccentric behavior.
But for Caesar, this was a very good entry point.
It was quite fitting for the future Third Dark Lord to have such a childhood experience, and it would be easier for him to lead her astray... Luna nodded, then shook her head, and finally said in a barely audible whisper, "Thank you."
Chapter 60: Luna's Family
Caesar's gaze fell on the stubborn green stain on the tip of her shoe, lingering for a moment.
"You have a Frog Spawn Resonance Charm on you. Is that the scent of a failed experiment?"
Luna's eyes widened suddenly, and she asked in disbelief, "How do you know? Are you also—"
"My father's identity in the Muggle world is a policeman, but in the wizarding world, he used to be an Auror," Caesar explained succinctly.
Then he paused slightly, as if weighing his words: "I also have some interest in Magical Creatures and magic experiments myself."
Perhaps it was because she had finally met someone who might understand "magic."
Or perhaps it was because her long-tensed nerves finally relaxed a little at this moment.
Luna began to explain the origin of the annoying scent on her body in fits and starts.
It all started with a spontaneous magic frog spawn experiment by her mother, Pandora.
She firmly believed that if a suitable "Emotional Resonance Charm" was applied to frog spawn, the hatched frogs might change color according to their mood.
Her mother had said excitedly at the time, "Think about it, Luna! How wonderful it would be if they turned blue when sad and yellow when happy!"
The experiment took place in the kitchen.
Something went fatally wrong at some point; the jar of frog spawn, which carried high hopes, failed to hatch smoothly and instead exploded completely with a dull thud.
A green liquid emitting a strange, sickly-sweet smell splattered everywhere.
For instance, on the new shoes Luna had hurriedly put on this morning and hadn't had time to wipe properly.
Caesar listened quietly, his expression initially calm and unruffled.
But gradually, he noticed something unusual.
What surprised him slightly was that before Luna Lovegood became the well-known "Loony"...
...before those butterbeer cork necklaces and Spectrespecs became her trademark, and before everyone around her started looking at her with that mixture of pity, mockery, and alienation...
...she seemed to be just an ordinary little girl who would be afraid when bullied and overwhelmed when helped.
The girl now looked very normal and ordinary. She was far from having that sharp sense of cleverness she had when she secretly brought Hermione to cause trouble for him.
When Luna finished, her voice dropped, and her thin fingers unconsciously twisted together, betraying her inner unease.
"So, the smell on me might not go away for a while."
"It's alright," Caesar said, offering no empty words of comfort.
He simply raised his right hand, his index finger tracing a short arc of magical trajectory in the air.
A warm golden halo brushed over the tips of Luna's shoes and several inconspicuous stains on the hem of her school uniform.
The stubborn green slime, along with that lingering strange odor...
...were completely wiped away as if by an invisible and precise hand, vanishing without a trace in an instant, as if they had never existed.
Luna stared blankly down at her clean-as-new shoes and light-colored dress.
She looked up at Caesar.
Those pale silvery-grey eyes blinked, her pupils clearly reflecting the grey rainy light from outside the window.
Along with Caesar's calm and unruffled young face... Luna's home was a crooked three-story house.
It was Pandora Lovegood herself who opened the door, clutching a small silver knife that was emitting a faint smoke.
"Mother."
Luna's voice was a bit clearer than usual:
"This is Caesar. He helped me. And he knows about the frog spawn."
Pandora's eyes lit up instantly with a spark of pure curiosity.
She looked Caesar up and down, her gaze sweeping over the thick, wordless book in his hand, and then she suddenly leaned in and sniffed.
"Oh! You don't have that... hmm... overly realistic scent of ordinary Muggle children."
"Hello, young Mr. Wilkes. Xenophilius mentioned your family moved in—an Auror family, hmm?"
She spoke quickly, stepping aside to clear the way: "Quickly, come in. The air is heavy with rain outside; it will attract those naughty Gulping Plimpies."
The interior was more crowded and cluttered than it appeared from the outside, yet it felt strangely warm and cozy.
A self-rotating Orrery hung above the dining table, bundles of The Quibbler were stacked in the corners, and the air was filled with a mixture of licorice and some peculiar herbs.
Most striking was the long table in the center of the living room, covered with powders of various colors and a small jar of shimmering blue viscous liquid.
"We are trying to capture the dream trails of Mooncalves,"
Pandora waved her small knife and explained enthusiastically, not feeling at all improper about revealing experimental details to a child she was meeting for the first time:
"Luna, dear, could you go make some honey tea?"
Luna nodded and trotted briskly toward the kitchen.
Pandora turned to Caesar, her gaze becoming searching.
"Luna said you knew about that failed little spell? And you cleaned it up very thoroughly?"
She tilted her head slightly: "An underage Wizard with such precise magic control is quite uncommon. Did your father teach you?"
Caesar shook his head gently, knowing the time for the real "performance" had come.
He didn't answer immediately but turned his gaze to the small amount of silver powder spilled next to the jar of blue liquid.
Then, he mobilized the subtle control over visual suggestion granted by his "Master of Illusion" talent.
At the same time, he combined it with the extensive knowledge of Magical Creatures' characteristics from his "Genius Scholar" status.
Next, he extended his finger and moved it slowly along a non-existent curved path.
Meanwhile, in a low voice just clear enough for Pandora to hear, and with a hint of uncertainty, he said:
"They just circled around here, didn't they?
The trail was very light, shaped like a tiny wisp of silver thread. It drifted away toward the window."
"What did you just say!"
Pandora Lovegood caught her breath instantly.
She first jerked her gaze to the air where Caesar's finger had passed.
Then she quickly looked toward the window, and finally, her gaze locked firmly onto Caesar's face.
Those pale silver eyes were filled with shock and a sudden burst of ecstasy, as if she had found a kindred spirit.
What Caesar described was exactly what the Lovegood family's theory suggested "Mooncalf dream traces" might look like.
Features that Pandora herself had not yet fully confirmed.
"Merlin's beard!"
Pandora exclaimed in a low voice, the silver knife in her hand falling onto the table with a "clang" as she said in surprise:
"Caesar, you can see them? You can actually see those 'escaping dream threads'?!"
"I've made seventeen observation records."
"Only three times did I suspect I'd captured a similar phenomenon, and Xenophilius always said it might just be my eyes playing tricks on me."
"Oh, you dear child!"
Excitedly, Pandora walked around the table, grabbed Caesar's shoulders with both hands, and leaned down to look him straight in the eye.
Her voice trembled with excitement: "You don't just 'know'—you can'see'!"
"Just like my Luna. No, perhaps even clearer! Talent! This is a rare talent!"
Just then, Luna came out carrying a tray with two cups of tea topped with warm bubbles.
Seeing her mother's excited state, she blinked in confusion.
Pandora turned her head and announced loudly to Luna, as if sharing momentous news:
"Luna! This Caesar, he can see! He saw the wisp of dream thread that slipped away!"
She looked at Caesar again, her face beaming with pure, unreserved enthusiasm:
"You must visit often! Anytime. Our home always welcomes friends who can see the real world!"
"We can observe the migration paths of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks together and verify the influence of Wrackspurts on the boiling point of Potions."
"Oh, and so many, many more interesting experiments and conjectures! What do you think?"
Meeting her burning gaze, a hint of faint shyness and just the right amount of curiosity appeared on Caesar's face at the perfect moment.
"I'd be happy to, Mrs. Lovegood. It's very interesting here."