Chapter 282: The Cat with Closed Eyes

Don’t judge your past self from the perspective of now.

This was the only thing En wanted to say.

Dumbledore raised his pale blue eyes, and only then did he fully feel the emotions Millieva and Severus had once held.

What a wonderful child he is—

he thought.

If a person possesses great power and extraordinary talent yet remains humble;

if a person has struggled fiercely against death in barren soil yet still feels moved by every weak and tiny struggle;

if a person has never known much beauty yet has always held the purest goodwill toward the world and given his utmost effort to help anyone in need…

then such a person might truly be called the greatest.

Because when compared to him, no one could have done better.

The Daily Prophet called him the successor to the greatest wizard, but whose mantle is he to inherit? In some sense, he is not a student.

“If you knew how terribly wrong I once acted…”

Dumbledore felt as if he had returned to his student days, speaking with a great soul recognized by the Soul Relic.

“That doesn’t matter, does it? If the person you wish to reclaim is a soul…

then please, do not pity the dead, Headmaster. Pity the living—above all, pity those who have known no love in their lives.”

En looked at Headmaster Dumbledore; his gaze told Dumbledore that here was someone who needed pity.

“Child—”

Dumbledore’s long beard trembled; he suddenly realized these were the very words he had always wanted to express but had never quite formed in his mind.

Or rather, the words he had never dared to speak before ending his shameful life.

“I will do it, Headmaster.”

En heard his own voice grow rough; everyone here wanted Dumbledore to be an unyielding wall, even himself.

But how many cared about the broken, lonely heart of this old man?

What he wanted most was wool socks? Perhaps…

Dumbledore was utterly stunned; he could not describe his feelings, and his words were no richer than anyone else’s at that moment.

He was sending this child into the dangerous boundary himself, even though he knew clearly how much such a wizard would change the Wizarding World.

“Ignore…”

He tried to speak several times but found no words.

“Ignore my request, child, ignore me…”

When an owl flew out of the Headmaster’s office and delivered a letter from Hogwarts to En’s hands, Dumbledore spoke as if he had unburdened himself.

His blue eyes narrowed, regaining their usual kindness.

“Many in the Wizarding World deserve help, but I am not among them.”

Dumbledore looked directly into En’s eyes again.

Only now did he understand the storm beneath that calm surface.

Even a man like him could be scorched by such a sincere soul.

En said nothing; he knew exactly what Headmaster Dumbledore was thinking—he knew the boundary was extremely dangerous, and its danger lay in wizards’ helplessness before the realm of souls.

But En was different; he always had an advantage in learning any magic, and he would eventually accomplish everything within his reach.

If the lost Ariana truly existed in the boundary… then entrusting the task to En, rather than placing hope on the Resurrection Stone, would raise the chance of success from zero to nearly ninety-nine percent.

“Forget our conversation, child. Every Saturday of the summer holidays, I still hope to see you here.”

“Though I am not as clever as you think, time is long—it grants even the most dull-witted some reward.”

Headmaster Dumbledore smiled kindly,

“For instance, speaking within the boundary is merely a small problem.”

As En walked out of the Headmaster’s office, Dumbledore could still see something in those calm green eyes.

“There are no accidents in this world, Albus. If that child must find something, he will find it.”

Dumbledore remembered Millieva’s words then.

He is a stubborn child; on the right path, he always moves forward without hesitation.

So… had he made another decision he would come to regret?

…

Sunlight spilled across the corridor, casting a thin halo over En.

He quietly moved the importance of Soul Transfiguration higher up—no one could remain unmoved by the plea of an old man who had guarded the Wizarding World for decades.

For now, Professor McGonagall was still waiting for him.

He took out the letter; the handwriting glinted in the sunlight:

【Come to me, child.

—Millieva】

At the door of the Transfiguration office, Professor McGonagall stood by the window.

Why do all Hogwarts wizards like standing by windows?

En’s thoughts drifted.

“Child, come to me—”

Professor McGonagall called softly,

“When you are joyful, perhaps you should remember someone is waiting to share it with you—”

En didn’t understand; what did she mean?

“You… actually think this is a minor thing?”

Professor McGonagall read something from his confusion.

She recalled Olivia’s sharing with her in the Great Hall about that great achievement, and now felt both shocked and amused.

“You’ve taken a step in Transfiguration no one has ever taken before; everyone will remember your transformation into a magical creature…”

Professor McGonagall smiled.

“Actually, Professor, I still don’t understand the principle—I haven’t mastered the ancient magical runes of Self-Transfiguration, and this Self-Transfiguration is still unreplicable…”

Only then did En finally grasp it.

It was his own accidental achievement: the magical creature version of Animagus transformation.

Thus, for the rest of the afternoon, En trained under Professor McGonagall to master his Catling form.

As before, he struggled to deeply control his own body, so Professor McGonagall’s help came just in time.

In Catling form, after practice, En could even sense his environment through his whiskers.

With his eyes closed, he could run and leap by sensing the flow of the breeze, though he still kept crashing into things.

The tabby cat watched the black cat slam into the softened wall again, covered its head with its paws, and its long whiskers vibrated with delight.

Sunlight bathed the castle; plants on the windowsills emitted sweet scents; in the warm Transfiguration office, soft meows echoed constantly.

…

Even as he stepped out of the Transfiguration office, En still felt dizzy.

But he did not abandon this attempt—if he could run at such speed with his eyes closed, he would have another escape route when facing the Basilisk.

As a magical creature, the Catling possessed far more incredible abilities than an ordinary cat.

And En felt his own Reincarnation form, even among Catlings, might be among the strongest.

Now, he needed to find another magical creature to serve as an interesting opponent for the Basilisk.

“Hagrid—”

At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, En called out.