Chapter 354

When Wizard Sean reached the fireplace, he saw a ghost.

Beside the ghost stood a Puck, short in stature, gray-skinned, with long ears.

He carried a bow and arrow and seemed to glare at Wizard Sean with displeasure.

“You may call me Mo Mo Ruigen.”

The ghost lady said.

Wizard Sean knew this was one of the mysteries Headmaster Herrera had mentioned.

“Sai… Lady Mo Mo Ruigen.”

His mind was racing with thoughts, and he slipped up.

“Has anyone ever told you how sharp your observation is, child?”

Mo Mo Ruigen—Isa Ser—smiled warmly.

“Headmaster Dumbledore and…”

Before Wizard Sean could finish, a startled voice cut him off.

“Isa, your judgment is as terrible as ever.”

The Puck named William stared wide-eyed at Wizard Sean—even with a Puck’s simple mind, no one would answer like that.

Wizard Sean was confused, but Bai Yi, who had been resting on the bed, let out a loud “gurgle” and lunged for the Basilisk biscuit hanging from her chest.

“Sorry, William always does this—William, today you forgot to polish the statue.”

The ghost lady offered a faint apology.

The Puck named William snorted, then vanished instantly.

Bai Yi flapped off in a huff, and Wizard Sean’s Soul Artifact emitted a fleeting flash of light.

Wizard Sean knew Bai Yi was already exhausted from constant travel, and now was precisely the time owls hunted—though Pucks possessed powerful magic, Basilisk stares gave no time to react.

“Bai Yi, come back, please.”

Wizard Sean called out. Bai Yi pecked his robe hem in anger before returning to the perch beside the bed.

“You seem to be quite favored by magical creatures.”

The ghost lady asked curiously.

Wizard Sean remembered his Epic Magical Creature Talent and nodded.

“In that regard, you’re just like me… You’re from Hogwarts? If you don’t mind me asking, which house are you from?”

The ghost lady asked again.

“Ravenclaw.”

Wizard Sean said.

“And in Ilvermorny?”

The ghost lady’s smile grew warmer.

“Horned Serpent.”

Wizard Sean replied.

“Wonderful!”

The founder of Ilvermorny leapt up in delight, her head vanishing into the ceiling.

Wizard Sean could guess why—this founder’s childhood dream had been to enter Ravenclaw at Hogwarts.

“It seems you have many questions?”

The ghost lady drifted down from the ceiling.

“Why… do you remain here?”

Wizard Sean asked carefully.

“As long as equality and justice remain absent, as long as prejudice and persecution endure, I shall not fade.”

“These children are still so young. I must ensure those sorrowful days never return.”

The ghost lady spoke calmly and steadily.

Wizard Sean looked at the ghost lady and saw sorrow in her eyes—strangely, ghosts were supposed to have no emotions.

“You’ve done enough.”

Wizard Sean fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly.

No wonder Ilvermorny had never strayed from its path for centuries—Isa had always been here.

But for those with clear minds, death is merely a great adventure—and Isa, who always embraced adventure, had lived a life full of adventure, family, and love; at twelve, she had dared to sail alone to escape her evil aunt Gormlaith—so perhaps staying was harder than leaving.

“Lovely little wizard, may I say it’s because I haven’t finished engraving all my knowledge yet?”

The ghost lady laughed merrily, waved her hand, and the room grew colder—this chill caused the runes on the walls to glow into view.

“William helps me engrave these teachings and manage the school—all the legacies left by the love of us who came before.”

“And I am content with Ilvermorny, my beloved school. It is time to leave.”

“You mean… leave?”

Wizard Sean was bewildered.

As far as he knew, no spell in known magic—not even Avada Kedavra—could kill a ghost a second time. They could be dispersed, but always reformed; physical attacks had no effect.

Nor could they truly experience sensory pleasure—eating, sleeping. Over time, they grew forgetful, detached, trapped in the emotions of their death moment. This was itself an eternal torment.

So in the vast history of magic, ghosts could never “die”—but perhaps what they longed for most was “rest.”

“You show no surprise at all… dear child. If you’re willing to attend Ilvermorny from now on—forgive me, Herrera has been nagging too long—I’ll teach you everything I know.”

The ghost lady drifted before Wizard Sean, seemingly overjoyed.

Before, she had seen him only as a sudden prodigy. Now, she saw only a dear child.

“I’m sorry,”

Wizard Sean’s expression remained calm, as if nothing could unsettle him—but now, he felt this persuasion wasn’t enough.

“Hogwarts…”

The long winter night continued outside, snow still falling.

But Wizard Sean knew this was not his snow.

His slightly lost expression seemed stuck on the word “Hogwarts.” He gazed long at the pale blue sky before speaking slowly:

“Hogwarts is my home.”

“Then, very well.”

The ghost lady smiled faintly and stepped aside from the fireplace.

“The Floo Network here keeps malfunctioning. Would you mind checking it for me? In return, I’ll tell you some things… about ghost death and the magical creatures tied to Ilvermorny.”

She vanished as she finished, and Wizard Sean had no idea where a ghost could go.

He could only follow the ghost lady’s wish and approach the fireplace.

Unexpectedly, green flames surged violently. Wizard Sean stared into the fire, where a large figure spun rapidly.

Seconds later, Professor McGonagall stepped out of the fireplace, brushing ash from her robe.

“Crude conditions, a remote stone cottage—this is what they gave you to live in?”

Professor McGonagall’s voice held suppressed fury.

“Professor.”

Wizard Sean froze—he hadn’t expected Headmaster Isa had connected him to Hogwarts’ Floo Network.

“Child, where’s Tera?”

Professor McGonagall scanned the room again. Bai Yi flew to her shoulder, cooing as if angrily complaining.

“Professor…”

Wizard Sean realized Headmaster Isa hadn’t gone far—meaning they were likely witnessing this confrontation face to face.

“What, child?”

Professor McGonagall turned to Wizard Sean.

“...Merry Christmas.”