Chapter 412: The Dream of Luck

The outside world buzzed with chaos, but the wizard in the dream knew nothing of it.

The cat-leopard, its fur dyed ink-black, lifted its paw; mist surged through its body and swiftly enveloped it, transforming it into a black cat in the blink of an eye.

The magic of soul transformation is wondrous—just as some wizards can freely shift between their human form and their Animagus form, Wizard Sean can switch effortlessly between his own magical beast forms.

And achieving this required no effort.

The black cat gazed at the white expanse of the Borderland; as it lifted its paw again, clusters of mist spontaneously gathered together.

There were dream-clusters of Hogwarts professors; there were dream-clusters from the distant orphanage; and even farther away, in Ilvermorny, there existed large dream-clusters as well.

The black cat summoned them as a cat chases a ball of yarn.

It carefully scanned them, then gently pulled aside some, pushed away others.

Observing… exploring…

Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall had not yet fallen asleep—strange;

Headmaster Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, despite having said he intended to speak with Wizard Sean in the dream.

Wizard Sean wondered what had delayed Headmaster Dumbledore?

This was Hogwarts Castle…

Setting aside his meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore, the black cat gathered faint, barely visible threads from the tower’s surface.

These were special threads—they did not point toward the dream-clusters near Victoria’s building, but toward deeper regions of the Borderland.

—These were Ravenclaw’s threads.

Following a faint, elusive guidance, Wizard Sean sensed that two Ravenclaw women were nearby.

This meant he might first attend to other matters.

So he quickly pulled in more threads.

These threads were smaller than the others, more bizarre and colorful, yet undeniably composed half of the entire cluster.

These were the threads brought by the Castle Spirit Cat Club.

The black cat gazed thoughtfully at the threads.

Finally, as if making a decision—it needed to know what changes occurred when the Borderland connected with wizards, and it needed to understand the key reason these threads had appeared.

After all, the Castle Spirit Cat Club had been established long ago, yet the thread-cluster had only appeared today.

Was it due to quantity… or…

Meanwhile, in Hogwarts Castle.

Behind a large barrel on the right side of the underground kitchen corridor.

Though the holiday had just ended, everyone was already looking forward to the next break.

Thus, on the final day of the holiday, many Hufflepuffs had not yet fully fallen asleep.

Inside the Hufflepuff common room, round and cozy, tables and sagging armchairs filled the space, the hearth crackling warmly.

A few young wizards whispered quietly, or played the strange night version of Wizard’s Chess.

It was a new version—only at night did the pieces awaken.

After all, the pieces were special kinds: werewolf wizards, vampire kings, and the like.

According to unofficial statistics, the strange night version of Wizard’s Chess had reduced Hogwarts’ bedtime rate by one hundred percent.

—From the statisticians Fred and George.

The young wizards believed it wholeheartedly, and it became wildly popular for a time.

Today, some young wizards still played.

Though many Hufflepuffs stayed awake, the club’s president, Hannah, was not among them.

She had organized another night patrol after Valentine’s Day and its following weekend; seventy-seven club members nearly turned Hogwarts Castle upside down.

Unfortunately, the lucky black cat that had once helped her never reappeared.

She was disappointed again.

She further connected this to her own theory: the Castle Spirit Cat only appears at pivotal moments.

Like guiding Harry to the truth, protecting Ginny from harm…

Then how could she find it?

The Castle Spirit Cat must be secretly battling terrible dangers, hence its busyness—she understood this well.

But disappointment, like windborne seeds, took root and grew in the soft soil of her heart.

“Oh, just one glance, just one meeting—Christmas Eve’s messenger, the Castle Spirit Cat who governs luck, the towering castle is your ear, the turning staircases your breath…”

As usual, murmuring with modest hope, she drifted into sleep.

When Hannah opened her eyes from the dream, she gasped, jaw dropping.

—She had never dreamed this before!

Everywhere were bizarre mist-clusters, a vast, white, sacred expanse—except for one abrupt black shape, crouched atop the mist-clusters, staring at her with emerald eyes.

“Good evening, Hannah.”

The black cat said.

“G-G-Good evening, Mr. Black Cat!”

Hannah struggled to keep from screaming.

The black cat nodded with human-like grace, then subtly glanced at Hannah’s thread-cluster.

It had grown enormously.

The black cat understood.

Deepening a connection with a person affected the size of the thread.

That was easy to grasp.

But one thing remained unclear: how had these threads suddenly appeared?

“Mr. Black Cat!”

Before the black cat could speak, Hannah could no longer hold back.

Good heavens, she had so many questions, so much she wanted to know—how could she possibly wait?

“C-Can I ask you some questions?”

Hannah realized she was acting improperly and hurried to recover.

“It doesn’t matter. In dreams, we have plenty of time.”

The black cat said.

Hannah thought this made sense, but she didn’t know why.

She could only pour out all her vague, urgent, anxious thoughts at once.

“Is this my dream—or yours? Have I truly dreamed of you?

Will you appear again in the castle? Can we meet you in the castle?

Will you like our club? Oh, heavens, I have so much more to say…”

Hannah finished and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth.

How many questions had she asked? Would Mr. Black Cat find it annoying…?

“Ask more if you wish—this dream exists for you alone.”

The black cat pressed its tail gently and spoke slowly.

“Really?!”

Hannah couldn’t hold back—she let out a quiet gasp.

“Yes.”

The black cat seemed to smile; its whiskers trembled slightly.

It pulled out a thread—within it, a shy little witch lay smiling softly on her bed.

It was herself!

This dreamlike scene made Hannah doubt her senses; she looked at the black cat, who nodded with human-like assurance.

She covered her mouth.

It seemed that tonight,

the free wind stirred the dull trees, and the talkative little witch had dreamed of luck.