Chapter 414: The Wisdom of the Wizard

“Miss Ravenclaw.”

The black cat stared at the warm fireplace, instinctively wanting to draw closer.

“Dear Green.”

Ravenclaw offered a faint, elusive smile.

“Some pumpkin juice?”

Helena guided the steaming pumpkin cup with its little legs to the black cat’s paws.

“Thank you for the hospitality.”

The black cat bowed its head slightly, using its tail to lift the pumpkin cup.

It gazed around the room, questions rising in its mind.

What exactly is the Borderland?

Why has he recently lost all sense of Miss Iso, yet Miss Ravenclaw seems to draw nearer to him?

How do the souls of the Borderland move within it? What rules govern the world beyond the Veil of Death?

It could not understand—it was deeply curious.

“You have many questions?”

Ravenclaw stepped forward, and another ancient book appeared beside her hand.

“Yes, Miss Ravenclaw. I wish to know: what exactly is the Borderland? And what determines the distance between you and me?”

Asked the black cat.

“A fine question. Then what do you think? What determines the distance between wizard and wizard? Is it a measurable length?”

Asked Ravenclaw.

“It is the distance between hearts.”

After a few seconds of thought, the black cat replied.

“That is the first answer.”

Ravenclaw smiled.

“But what rules govern the Borderland? Why do I sense Miss Iso growing farther away?”

The black cat was puzzled.

“A wizard’s soul is something that moves—sometimes closer, sometimes farther.

Even when two hearts are near, the soul seeks freedom, and in seeking freedom, the wizard is alone.

Two wizards’ paths do not necessarily intersect.”

Ravenclaw sipped her pumpkin juice, a faint, teasing smile on her face.

“You mean…”

The black cat fell into deep thought.

“Yes, compared to other wizards, your distance from Ser is very close;

but Ser keeps moving forward. She has left space for you in the soul world, yet she may not let you catch up.

Only in special moments do wizards’ paths align.”

Ravenclaw explained again.

“I understand.”

The black cat suddenly realized. It looked at Luo Yina, then at Helena, its fur bristling slightly—but said nothing.

“You wonder why I am always with Helena?”

Ravenclaw was clearly wise.

“Because we have made our homes in each other’s souls. What do you think a home is?”

Ravenclaw gazed at the black cat and gently lifted it into her arms. The cat, still lost in thought, noticed nothing.

“Where love is, there is home…”

The black cat lifted its head and found the world had lowered—now it seemed to hover high in the air, watching Helena laugh uncontrollably.

“That’s not funny.”

The black cat leapt down.

The fireplace blazed fiercely; vines outside the cottage danced with rustling whispers.

Amidst a subtle, cheerful murmur, Ravenclaw’s voice rose in the cottage:

“Hmm. Excellent wisdom.”

In the moment of their contact, she seemed to have already understood something—causing the black cat’s tail to twitch.

“What?”

Asked the black cat.

“You asked about the rules of the Borderland—but you already know them, just as you do now.”

Ravenclaw tapped a finger, and small clusters of mist sprang from the edge of the black cat’s tail.

The first mist cluster showed a complex hand gesture, accompanied by obscure sounds.

A barely adequate magical wisdom.

Ravenclaw evaluated.

The second mist cluster shifted constantly—now a cat, now a leopard.

“Excellent Transfiguration wisdom.”

Ravenclaw smiled.

The third, fourth, and fifth mist clusters all radiated a chilling, pitch-black aura.

“...Dark Magic, Dark Magic, Dark Magic... What have you been learning?

Has Hogwarts changed so drastically over these centuries?”

Ravenclaw’s expression shifted slightly.

The black cat shrank its head, silent.

It understood now: these were wisdom clusters—like the bizarre desire clusters, common things in the Borderland.

“Hogwarts does not teach Dark Magic.”

The black cat finally whispered.

“Green, it’s fine.”

Ravenclaw stepped closer; the black cat could see the intricate patterns along her robe’s hem.

The black cat did not understand what she meant—until she spoke again.

“Dark Magic is a sharp blade. I am more curious: what forced you to raise it?

I recall wizards once defeated dragons, giants, and stood equal to goblins, building their own castles upon magical lands.

Did the goblins rebel?”

Ravenclaw sounded intrigued.

“That was long ago.”

The black cat chose its words carefully.

“Oh? Then this is a wizard war?”

Ravenclaw did not sound like she was asking.

The black cat nodded.

Ravenclaw did not press further—as if this were the inevitable outcome.

When wizards solved the problem of survival, differing beliefs naturally split them apart.

And wizards relied so utterly on belief for survival that magic was born from it—and war arose from it.

In the quiet cottage, mist rose naturally.

“I must leave, Miss Ravenclaw, Miss Helena.”

Said the black cat.

It had seen what it most wished to see.

“Then, good luck to us?”

Ravenclaw still wore her faint, teasing smile.

The black cat’s whiskers trembled slightly—but said nothing.

“Countless souls here cling to me, hoping to gain the lingering power wizards hold in the Borderland. Do you know what that is?”

Ravenclaw asked suddenly.

“Wisdom.”

The black cat replied.

“That is what I want you to understand.

Wizards hold so many beliefs—even cruelty has many followers. Yet true magic’s power never resides solely there.

Ancient wizards defeated dragons, giants, even subdued goblins. But according to Helena’s account, modern wizards no longer possess such magic...”

Ravenclaw spoke slowly; the black cat listened intently.

In the cottage, a pine tree hung with colorful lights bore a fluffy orange-yellow rug beneath it, a round stool, and a plush toy of a black cat.

The kettle boiled, steaming, and in its gurgling, the black cat smelled the fresh scent of pine.

It sat quietly on the rug, striving to memorize every word Ravenclaw spoke.

It always had a unique intuition about magic; now, that intuition told it it was about to encounter magic’s deepest and most obscure aspect.