Chapter 348: The Branches of Fate

The alchemy professor in silver robes and silver hair nodded to his colleagues:

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape.”

The two who had just been arguing also nodded silently in response.

“Albus, you know—as we suspected, the child…”

Professor Tera entered and spoke urgently.

At that moment, both colleagues turned their gazes toward her; Snape stared coldly at Tera, while McGonagall frowned.

“This Christmas, I will take him away. Eugenia Herrera would be delighted—the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry awaits us…”

As Professor Tera spoke, she noticed the atmosphere in the room had grown tense.

Dumbledore rose from his high-backed chair behind the desk, his pale blue, piercing gaze fixed on the window.

A snowy owl was flying toward it.

“Take him away?”

Professor McGonagall fixed Tera with a sharp stare.

Professor Tera’s expression turned unreadable; after a moment’s hesitation, she said:

“The child didn’t tell you?”

“Please—say—”

Snape’s cold gaze grew more dangerous; his low voice suppressed his anger.

“Albus… I must say…”

She had intended to speak directly to Dumbledore, but upon noticing the identities of the two others present, she paused slightly, then continued with quiet reassurance:

“Little Green is the most extraordinary wizard I have ever encountered—he may possess more than one soul embodiment.”

He mentioned the leopard cat—I suspect this is it: his second soul embodiment.

In the headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore’s beard bristled as he took the snow-dusted letter from the owl’s claw and beamed at the scene:

“Youth—how wonderful, still capable of feeling love so intensely…”

As if to validate his words, Minerva McGonagall sprang to her feet:

“Impossible! Olivia!”

In many Celtic, Scandinavian, and Germanic legends, certain animals—such as boars, does, and stags—have a direct connection to wizards.

These otherworldly beings often “choose to become someone’s guardian embodiment, accompanying them,” symbolizing that “a person’s fate takes on both human and animal form.”

Fate—what an obscure word.

People always glimpse fragments of their own destiny through their soul embodiment: whether in Norse legends of Norway and Scandinavia or in wizarding lore, stags and does are always “guiding animals, sacrificial animals.”

So how could a wizard possibly possess multiple animal forms?

In other words, how could he break free from his destined path and branch off a new fate?

“It is true, Minerva.”

Professor Tera spoke with certainty.

She had guessed the situation in the office, and so she understood: she would ultimately take Little Green away.

For here gathered those most invested in her pupil—meaning they would eventually yield for him.

Minerva McGonagall fell into a moment of daze, her heart filled with an instinctive, complex emotion:

She wished him to excel, yet not too much.

“Hmph—”

Snape let out a cold snort, casting a chilly glance at Dumbledore.

Professor Tera and Professor McGonagall discussed the details of soul embodiments and Ilvermorny School, while Professor Snape stood silently to the side—like a student listening in class.

In recent years, outside of Dark Arts research and potion-making, he had rarely shown such focused attention.

The two men before him had once been his own professors.

The feeling was strange, for Dumbledore had once been McGonagall’s professor too.

In this snowy winter, the teaching positions at Hogwarts felt like a legacy passed down, flowing in the blood of every wizard who loved magic.

The kettle bubbled, silverware clinked.

Dumbledore’s eyes softened; he stood before the wooden table, smiling as he watched the students—nothing pleased him more than seeing them gathered together.

After a long while, he lowered his head and slowly opened a letter sent from distant New York:

{To Professor Albus Dumbledore,

Headmaster’s Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry;

Professor Dumbledore:

I have arrived at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

—Yours faithfully, Newt Scamander}

…

Christmas had come.

On this day, the castle added another layer of decoration for the holiday.

Everywhere, colorful Christmas ornaments were hung as usual, though few students remained to admire them.

Halls were draped once more with thick garlands of holly and mistletoe; every suit of armor glowed with mysterious lights.

In the Great Hall, the usual twelve Christmas trees stood, their branches adorned with glittering golden stars. A rich, mouthwatering aroma of cooking drifted through the corridors, so thick it roused Bai Yi from her lethargy—she perched on Wizard Sean’s shoulder, forcing herself awake to gaze at the Great Hall.

The term had ended; a silence as heavy as snowdrifts blanketed the entire castle.

Wizard Sean watched the introduction to Ilvermorny School by the crackling fire, not feeling bored, but peaceful.

When he reached the Great Hall, his seat was already piled high with gifts.

“Merry Christmas, Wizard Sean.”

Jia Jia Siting always noticed him, even the moment he entered the hall.

“Merry Christmas.”

Wizard Sean felt content on such days—snow falling thickly, everyone gathered warmly by the fire.

He had received many gifts; they nearly reached Jia Jia Siting’s seat.

All of them had been delivered by Bai Yi, who had labored day and night.

Among the gifts, the most striking was first a set of potions worth thousands of Jin Jin Jialong; then a gleaming, brand-new Firebolt 2001.

In the corner of the crystal vial lay a note: 【Drink】.

As brief as ever.

Until Wizard Sean put the Firebolt 2001 back, Harry watched it with longing eyes.

It was the latest Firebolt 2001—the exact same broom Harry dreamed of every day while watching Slytherin practice. He stared at the broom; its handle shimmered brilliantly.

“Wizard Sean, who gave you this?”

Ron, unable to contain his excitement, whispered.

“Good heavens, who would spend so much on you?”

Hermione gasped, then paused, thinking.

“So many people—I can’t guess.”

“It’s the professor.”

Wizard Sean replied. He opened the broom’s wrapping, and a note floated out—a small cat-shaped slip that bounced into his hand and unfolded itself into a letter:

{When there’s no time to rest, that’s when you rest.

Do something joyful.

I want you to know, my child, that during the holidays, there is no magic study.}

Wizard Sean fell silent for a long while, carefully putting away both letters.

Outside, fine snow continued to fall; according to the newspaper, all of Scotland was blanketed in snow.

The Blanket Demon is too powerful—two more chapters at noon.