Harry Potter: A Certain Ancient Rune Professor of Hogwarts (TL)

Finally, the semester was over, and the young wizards lined up to board the train home, leaving Hogwarts mostly empty for a while.

The usual silence of the morning after a heavy snowfall completely enveloped the entire castle.

Felix walked through the castle, only occasionally encountering a young wizard, but he did not feel the least bit stuffy, but rather peaceful.

He picked a remote place near the frozen black lake, used magic to turn the rock into a chair, comfortably lying on it. He lightly snapped his fingers, a bright blue flame floating above his head.

Felix took a book out of his ring and read it with interest.

What he had in his hand is “Ravenclaw Manuscript (Volume II)”, where the descendants have compiled the information left by Rowena Ravenclaw and divided the contents into twelve whole volumes according to different categories.

The second volume consisted of Ravenclaw’s daily entourage, which did not involve specific wizarding knowledge, and to his eyes, it’s filled with large paragraphs of cloudy, poetry-like mumblings.

A random quote –

The stone became a bird, chirping, and chirping. Across mountains and lakes, it brought back daisy flowers from the red plains.

Felix: “…” It is difficult to understand the state of mind of Lady Ravenclaw at that time.

Felix also assumed that Ravenclaw had been educated as a noble lady in her youth, and had a special preference for poetry because of her family’s education.

But were there any famous poets at that time?

Felix scratched his head a bit, with his not very good historical knowledge, he only knew the four founders of Hogwarts active in the Middle Ages, but it seems that the poetry of that period is inseparable from the category of religious hymns.

He read on –

The river said to me, O Creator, you gave me thought, but never gave me form. One day, I will merge into the ocean.

Felix: “…”

When you think about it, it’s still quite meaningful, or at least it reads lofty and mysterious.

He also did not consume his mind to ponder the subtle meaning of the words, but lapped up the words and quickly skimmed through them. In less than half an hour, he turned to the end.

“Tsk!” Felix smacked his lips, do not know what to say.

Without a little literary appreciation, he didn’t deserve to study magic?

He simply lay down on the chair, looking at the distant lake covered with ice and snow, recalling the knowledge he had gained from the diary in the past few days. With his vision, he was able to tell which part would be more useful to him, even though the diary had covered up everything for him and even tried to pass on the wrong information, but then again, he was only dealing with the young Dark Lord, who had yet to graduate from school and who was still very young in every way.

In this point, Voldemort and once himself are somewhat alike, they are with the “external” force to force a single branch of study to improve the ability to achieve far beyond the level of their peers.

But when it comes to understanding and perception of magic, they are still too shallow.

If you don’t reach a certain level, you won’t be able to experience it.

Felix had a feeling that most wizards spent their lives learning other people’s magic without ever improving it. It’s not that they don’t want to, but they can’t.

“Wait, I seem to have thought of something.” Felix sat up sharply, ” little bird, river, creator, magic, consciousness …”

Felix quickly opened the Ravenclaw Manuscript (Volume II) and turned to one of the pages, he looked at the familiar words on it-

“Stones became little birds, chirping and chirping. Across mountains and lakes, it brought back the daisy flowers of the red plains.”

Would it be possible to see this little poem as a true account of Ravenclaw’s own experience?

The first line is undoubtedly about transfiguration, perhaps Lady Rowena Ravenclaw turned a rock into a beautiful bird on a whim one day.

So what does the second sentence say?

That Ravenclaw used magic to manipulate it to make a sound? Felix shook his head and connected to the next two sentences, the legendary bird that had apparently leaped a short distance and brought back a daisy flower.

This is not something that transfiguration can do.

Perhaps Ravenclaw had given it some kind of ” trait “, like life, soul, or something like that, so that it could maintain a certain degree of autonomy even after it was out of the spellcasting range.

He suddenly remembered part of the conversation he had had with the Sorting Hat that day…

“Sorting Hat, do you remember how you were born?” Felix asked it in his mind.

“Of course, oh, I vividly remember that.” It said wisely, and then the dirty, ragged hat sang in his consciousness.

“It was over a thousand years ago.

I had just been woven into shape.

There were four great and famous wizards that

Vowed to nurture the young wizards into being.

These four great wizards.

Each had a different view of the talent they valued.

It was Gryffindor who came up with the idea–

He lifted me from his head.

All four great wizards infused me with their thoughts.

From then on it was up to me to pick and evaluate!”

…

The Sorting Hat almost became an independent living entity after acquiring the thoughts of the Four Greats on it.

How alike to that little bird that leaps over mountains and lakes and brings back a daisy flower!

What is the key here? It is autonomy. They both exhibit extreme autonomy, just like real beings, and can still make self-decisions and complete complex behaviours when they are out of the magical range.

How can this autonomy be achieved in a miraculous way?

Excluding the fields of “life” and “soul”, which he could not touch anywhere, Felix quickly thought of a way he could achieve it – injecting memories.

He happened to get this part of knowledge from the diary.

He waved his wand so that a palm-sized pebble flew to him, and then he lightly points his wand on the stone, the stone quickly turned into a delicate, small rain swallow.

But if you distinguish carefully, you will find that the eyes of this rain swallow is very dull, like a puppet, every move needs guidance with the wand.

Felix constructed a small memory in his mind, he touched his forehead with his wand, pulling out a silver, shimmering thin wire.

He incorporated this false memory into Rainbird’s body and relied on the knowledge that diary had given him to bring the pieces together.

He simplified this step as much as possible, just to verify what he had in mind.

Under his watchful eye, the rain swallow’s eyes became animated, and without his control, it swung its wings and stumbled to take flight.

Then it plunged headlong into the snow, leaving only two legs twitching continuously.

Felix yanked it out, and the rainbird bounced and trudged through the snow, watching it walk rather not like a sparrow – this is because he had constructed a memory so poorly.

But he stared unblinkingly at the little guy in front of him.

After almost two or three minutes, wisps of silvery mist spilled out of this rainbird’s body, and the fictitious memory dissipated.

It returned to its dull state.

Felix waved his wand and made it turn into a pebble again.