By the time Sean got back to Ravenclaw Tower, the rain still hadn't let up. Droplets slid down the tall arched windows like slow tears.
Pretty soon the only sound left in the common room was the soft crackle of the dying fire.
After coming in from the freezing wind outside, Sean instinctively conjured a tiny fire-salamander that curled up around his ankles. In no time his whole body felt toasty again.
Under his shirt, the Hollow Rune glimmered faintly. He knew what that meant: the veil was thin tonight. He could step into the Borderlands.
The Borderlands, the world behind the curtain, the place beyond the Veil of Death… no matter what you called it, it was one of the deepest, most mysterious corners of the wizarding world.
Getting in and out followed ancient rules.
The beginner's guide to Hollow Runes listed a bunch of them: moon phases, planetary alignments, anchor objects, all that jazz.
In the end Sean's conclusion was simple: it mostly depended on how his Horcrux was feeling.
He suspected he'd overused it lately and the rune had needed time to recharge. That explained the recent dry spell.
Now the night had gone still and a thin mist was rising.
Outside a crumbling old sign that read "Children's Home," a sleek black cat (a little bigger than average, fur thick and shiny) padded out of the ruined street and slipped into the deeper fog.
Among the weird, shifting blobs of mist, the cat stopped beside one that had faint threads of inky black swirling through it.
One low meow later, a small red-headed witch appeared in the fog and walked toward him, hesitant but curious.
"Merlin's paws, a lucky black cat! Am I dreaming? Wait—of course I'm dreaming!"
Ginny's eyes sparkled. Her red hair looked like living fire as she reached out to pet him.
The cat dodged left and right, then remembered dreams don't last forever. His bright green eyes rolled in a very human way (pure exasperation).
"Ginny."
"Who said that?! That voice sounds so familiar…"
She whipped around, scanned the fog, and finally zeroed in on the black cat lounging on a cloud of mist.
"Hannah wasn't kidding—Hogwarts really does have the most magical black cat ever!"
Ginny practically glowed.
"How've you been lately?" the cat asked. "Any weird blackouts or anything?"
Ginny pulled her hand back.
Talking cat. Maybe scratching its ears right now would be rude…
"How do you know about that, Mr. Black Cat? Is this your dream?"
The cat blinked, mildly surprised.
Weasleys and their freakishly good instincts.
Was this his dream?
Yes and no.
This was the Borderlands, but a corner of the Borderlands that belonged to him alone. The book put it like this:
Here, souls are either timid or bold. Only a few wander. Only intruders feel like travelers.
Wanderers wait; travelers are waited for. Travelers bring change; wanderers are changed.
Sean's takeaway was straightforward: a wizard who enters through a Hollow Rune gets limited editing rights over a tiny slice of the Borderlands.
That meant things like:
- He could see the old Wool's Orphanage whenever he wanted.
- He could summon witches and wizards who didn't fight him.
- And, slowly but surely, he could peel away a certain Dark Lord's influence on someone's soul.
Because Voldemort had never been invited here.
When it came to dark magic out in the real world, Sean still had to be insanely careful around Voldemort.
But inside the Borderlands? A guy who'd ripped his soul into eight pieces was barely stronger than a baby.
The books described baby-Voldemort pretty perfectly: this raw, red, flayed-looking thing curled up on the floor, struggling to breathe, abandoned under a bench.
"I've been feeling so much lighter lately," Ginny was saying, totally at ease talking to the cat. "I think the nightmares finally stopped. Although when I'd wake up my robes were covered in chicken feathers and I have no idea how they got there."
She laughed, relieved to finally tell somebody.
"You'll be all better soon," the cat promised.
Ginny felt warm and floaty. She was talking to the exact black cat she'd always dreamed of meeting. He was so funny—he'd start to lick his paw then stop himself like he'd forgotten he was supposed to be human, whiskers twitching. Once his own tail whacked him in the face and he carefully pushed it back into place with a paw, like it had a mind of its own.
"Mr. Black Cat… will I see you again?"
Her voice was tiny, already half-asleep.
"If everything goes right, our paths won't cross again."
Because he was about to deal with the basilisk.
Once he had a fang, the diary was toast. He already had a hundred ways to destroy it without ever touching the thing.
"What does 'goes right' mean… what if it doesn't?"
Ginny sounded crushed.
"Things rarely go right," the cat said gently.
The words faded as the dream dissolved.
Ginny was left with the strangest itch in her heart, like a fluffy paw gently scratching at it.
…
"Good-luck black cat!"
Ginny bolted upright in bed yelling, hair sticking out in every direction. Her dormmates stared like she'd grown a second head.
She glanced at the clock—still plenty of time before breakfast—and launched into the whole story, complete with dramatic paw gestures.
By the time Sean reached the Great Hall, a whole knot of little witches was squealing over the tale. Ginny finished telling it for the third time, then bounded over to Luna, who was sitting just a few seats down from Sean and his friends.
"…and that's how Mr. Black Cat came to help me! But Luna—was that really just my dream?"
Luna rested her chin in her hands, looking dreamy as usual, then suddenly reached up and plucked a single long black cat hair from the top of Ginny's bright red head.
"It was real," she announced.
Harry and Ron were already crowded around. Hannah Abbott squealed that it had to go in the official record. Even Hermione shot Sean a suspicious sideways glance before scooting closer to hear better.
Sean quietly slipped out of his seat and headed upstairs.
On the second floor, right outside the girls' bathroom, Peeves was marching back and forth with a grim expression, carrying something that looked suspiciously like a harpoon.
"Scram, brat! If you even think about bullying poor Myrtle again, I'll gobble you whole!"
He pulled a hideous face at a terrified first-year girl, stole her hat, and hung it high on a torch bracket.
"Hey, ghost!" the girl yelled—she clearly had guts. "I literally just got here! I don't even know who Myrtle is!"
Read advance chapter in my Pat****
ilham20
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