Chapter 373

“How do you resist?”

Wizard Sean Green asked curiously.

Of course, he also remembered that spells like Legilimency could be interrupted.

For example, Harry had used the Shield Charm to deflect Professor Snape’s Legilimency.

Legilimency, Obliviation, Confundus Charm… even the Imperius Curse all have countermeasures.

Moreover, during spellcasting, the caster can be disrupted by offensive spells.

It makes sense, after all—witches and wizards cast spells, but they themselves are powerful in magic yet weak in physicality.

“You’ve agreed… Mr. Green, let me make this clear.

I will use a faint Legilimency to probe your meals today; then you will understand the feeling of resistance.

And finding that feeling is the first step in learning Occlumency.”

Quirrell hesitated before speaking.

Wizard Sean Green could roughly grasp that magic required some form of visualization.

Or rather, visualization made magic easier.

For instance, he struggled to imagine rain or snow out of nothing—he needed to summon at least one cloud to produce them;

the Separation Charm was hard to cast directly, but if he placed a sign and surrounded it with a ring of bushes, casting the charm became simple.

“Alright, Professor.”

Wizard Sean Green agreed immediately.

“Ah, ah, yes—if you have any trouble, I’ll stop at once.”

Quirrell stood rigidly before the fireplace, his fingers gripping the wand so tightly they turned pale.

“Shall we begin?”

Wizard Sean Green lifted his head and stared directly into Professor Quirrell’s eyes.

Legilimency required direct eye contact above all.

Or rather, most spells required the wizard to lock onto their target to cast them.

A clear example was when Harry, in his first year during a Quidditch match, was attacked—Quirrell and Professor Snape both had to keep their eyes fixed on Harry to act.

“Yes, if that is your wish.”

Quirrell forced himself not to look away; he raised his wand and gave Wizard Sean a slight nod.

“Legilimency!”

At that moment, Wizard Sean’s head felt as if lightly stung by a bee or something similar.

But soon, the sensation was pushed back outside.

One second, two seconds, three seconds… after more than ten seconds.

“Did you see it?”

Wizard Sean Green struggled to control his emotions, keeping them perfectly still.

“Ah, ah… soon, Mr. Green.”

Quirrell fell silent for a moment, his gaze of awe growing even more intense.

Then Wizard Sean felt the bee-sting again.

This time, the bee’s stinger was razor-sharp, trying to pierce through the mental barrier he’d built by emptying his mind.

Time slowed to a halt.

【You practiced Occlumency at a skilled level—Proficiency +10】

【Occlumency: Locked (10/30)】

After what felt like minutes—perhaps two or three—the veil finally burst like a balloon.

And Quirrell finally saw scenes unfold—

eating lamb chops, drinking pumpkin porridge, eating toffee, drinking pumpkin juice, dining at dinner, waiting for the pumpkin porridge to cook…

Quirrell couldn’t help but smile slightly.

Immediately, he lowered his head, fixing his gaze on the pumpkin juice on the table, no longer meeting Wizard Sean’s green eyes.

Strange—he dared not meet the eyes of the two wizards he had sworn to serve… though thankfully, for different reasons.

Wizard Sean could also see those scenes—the meals at Ilvermorny.

He grasped the feeling: it was simple—do not recall all memories, and show no emotional fluctuation.

But actually doing it was extremely difficult.

Because a wizard cannot constantly control his thoughts, nor can he keep his emotions and sensations perfectly still.

They were like birds—nimble, restless.

“Professor, I let my guard down.”

Wizard Sean felt discouraged; he believed he could have done better.

If he hadn’t glanced at the pumpkin juice on the table and exposed a crack in his defense, he might have held out longer.

“Oh, oh, you let it slip…?”

Quirrell hesitated, unsure what to say—he found this talent terrifying, but perhaps for the revered Mr. Green, it had barely reached his passing threshold.

“Professor, I have a question: a wizard’s resistance is always strenuous and limited.

If one is constantly subjected to Legilimency, must their memories be read?

Or do Occlumens differ?”

Wizard Sean stared at the pumpkin juice and asked.

“Legilimency is not easy to master—very few wizards learn it, and even fewer become masters…”

Quirrell explained seriously,

“Occlumens can resist instantly, just as some wizards are more attuned to certain branches of magic—Occlumens are especially sensitive to being watched, and can respond in the briefest moments.

As for whether a wizard must inevitably have their memories read…

Revered Mr. Green, wizards do not only counter magic with counter-charms—sometimes, we must strike directly.”

“I understand,” Wizard Sean nodded.

Magic’s power clearly varied by individual—Occlumens could naturally resist even a master of Legilimency.

In the end, the struggle came down to the gap in magical mastery between the two.

More precisely, if a wizard lacked the ability to resist mentally—or to attack with spells—then being subjected to Legilimency was no different from being forced to drink Veritaserum.

“Occlumency shields against external magical forces.

Once you find that feeling, you might try recalling—forgotten memories are merely buried deeper.”

Quirrell explained in detail.

Wizard Sean’s eyes gleamed brighter.

He looked outside: the colorful shop windows were frosted over, and Diagon Alley was filled with witches and wizards wrapped in scarves.

He recalled Hogwarts—he had never encountered such a mystery before.

The snow fell heavily.

If someone sat by the fire, staring at the snow-covered ground,

then those unclear, forgotten things would slowly sink to the bottom of the heart, growing clearer with the snow.

Being rescued from the orphanage by Professor McGonagall, boarding the Hogwarts Express, meeting Jia Jia Siting and Hermione, arriving at Hogwarts…

Scene after scene formed in his mind—even the +10 proficiency notification struggled to break his focus.

The buried things slowly surfaced.

Until they froze on one night.

At that time, Wizard Sean and the other two had just entered Hogwarts and discovered a hidden room.

On the wall hung a portrait—the canvas yellowed and cracked with age, depicting not a solemn wizard, but a snow-white owl wearing a velvet waistcoat and tiny pince-nez glasses.

With one claw, it struggled to adjust its glasses; with the other, it clutched an old scroll of parchment.

Its eyes never left them.