Chapter 472: The News (3k)

The black cat woke up.

When it opened its eyes, the mist of the Borderlands was churning thickly.

“You remind me of one of my… teachers.”

Rita said, as if chatting idly.

She conjured a scene—the black cat recognized it as the classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

—Seventy-nine years ago, the lesson that day was on Boggarts.

Dumbledore was guiding a line of boys forward, encouraging them to try.

“Riddikulus…” “Riddikulus…”

The young wizards’ voices rose and fell; the Boggart shifted from a shark to a buoy, from a zombie’s head to a pumpkin, from a vampire to a rabbit with tiny buckteeth—laughter followed in waves.

“Come on, Newt. Be brave.”

Dumbledore said.

The black cat had never seen Headmaster Dumbledore so young.

Sixteen-year-old Newt stepped to the front. The Boggart transformed into a Ministry of Magic desk.

“This is unusual. So what, Mr. Scamander, do you fear most in this world?”

Dumbledore smiled warmly.

The black cat watched Headmaster Dumbledore—he’d always enjoyed watching performances, even as a professor.

“Working in an office, Professor.”

Sixteen-year-old Newt replied, earnest and sincere.

The whole class burst into laughter.

“Go on, Newt.”

Dumbledore laughed too.

“Riddikulus!”

Newt turned the desk into a playful wooden dragon, then stepped aside.

“Well done. Excellent transformation.”

Dumbledore clapped.

Now it was sixteen-year-old Rita’s turn, but she didn’t move.

She was terrified.

“Rita, it’s only a Boggart—it can’t hurt you. Everyone fears something.”

Dumbledore spoke kindly to Rita.

Before him, a group of girls huddled together, relishing her fear.

“Look at her humiliate herself.”

The girls said.

Rita stepped forward. The Boggart began to shift—and instantly, all laughter vanished.

Green light reflected on every terrified face. The Boggart became a shadow, with a tiny human hand.

Rita let out a sob and ran from the classroom.

The black cat and adult Rita followed behind, watching as she hid in another empty classroom.

After who knew how long, young Rita still sat on her old desk. Then Dumbledore entered.

“What a surprise.”

Dumbledore said.

“Because you saw me in class? Am I that bad a student?”

Rita said coldly to Dumbledore.

“On the contrary, you’re my brightest student.”

Dumbledore said.

“I said bad, not stupid. Don’t bother thinking of an answer. You never liked me.”

Rita dropped these words coldly.

“That’s not true. You’re not a bad child.”

Dumbledore came closer and sat down.

“Then you’re mistaken.”

Rita refused to look at him.

Yet Dumbledore studied her carefully.

“Rita, I understand the rumors about your brother Corvus have caused you great pain.”

Dumbledore said.

“No, you don’t understand. Unless your brother had also died.”

Rita snapped.

“I lost my sister.”

Dumbledore said.

She stared at him; both were hostile, yet equally curious.

“Did you love her?”

Rita asked.

“I didn’t love her enough.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were gray and dim.

“It’s never too late to find peace. Some say honesty is liberation. A release.”

Rita kept staring at him.

Wondering what he knew.

“Regret has long been my companion. Don’t let it become yours.”

Dumbledore left.

The illusion shattered.

“I once doubted him. I wondered if he, too, was a monster—until I met someone.”

Rita said to the black cat.

The black cat’s ears twitched; Rita now knew for certain that her beloved Bastet wandered not only through Newt’s dreams.

“A witch who forgot her own name—no, she wasn’t quite a witch at all.”

Rita’s expression turned reflective,

“She remembered only that she had two brothers at Hogwarts, and she waited. In my memory, very few fit that description…

A few simple deductions—I realized who she was.”

The black cat naturally knew too.

“That was when I realized my teacher’s words were true—we are the same kind.”

Rita said.

“And you, my dear Bastet—can such a being truly understand a witch’s heart?”

“I am a witch.”

The black cat said.

Rita burst out laughing.

“Yes, I understand—you’re not a cat. You’re a witch.”

Rita said solemnly.

The black cat nodded its head up and down in agreement; Rita laughed until her whole body shook.

A powerful magical creature, possessing magic beyond a witch’s imagination.

Yet it was willing to listen to a witch’s wishes—even willing to fulfill them.

How strange.

Rita felt today’s wonder surpassed all her expectations.

“Lady Lestrange, can you find her again?”

The black cat asked.

“Oh, her? Of course.”

Rita’s eyes flickered,

“You rushed through the Borderlands just to bring witches good fortune? Whose wish will you grant this time?”

The black cat remained silent.

“I’ll help. For my teacher—and for you.”

Rita sighed.

The mist churned more fiercely; both the black cat and Rita knew it was time to part.

“When will you come again?”

Rita placed a trimmed Gabriel flower into a vase and asked the black cat, as if speaking to a longtime friend.

“I don’t know.”

The black cat shook its head.

And Lita understood that good fortune might never come again—or perhaps it would return tomorrow.

After a while, the black cat glanced back at her, then turned and sank into the deep mist, vanishing without a trace.

The borderlands were now left with only a witch who loved trimming flowers; occasionally, she would tell the creatures she had bound and brought here for destruction the story of a black cat.

……

Hogwarts.

The bell rang three times.

Wizard Sean rarely woke at his usual time; this journey to the borderlands had not gone smoothly—he had used the Empty Rune’s power far too thoroughly.

This resulted in a disappointing outcome: he could not return to the borderlands for the time being.

But this state would not last long; Wizard Sean estimated it would be about a full month.

He recalled Lita’s words and unexpectedly thought of the headmaster’s office, filled with silver objects.

The old wizard guarded this castle as if it were a cage he had built with his own hands.

As he passed the headmaster’s office, the bell was still ringing; Wizard Sean could already smell the sweet scent of pumpkin in the Great Hall.

He remembered Lita’s pumpkin pie and ultimately decided her cooking was better than that of his Ravenclaw teacher.

Yet he quickened his pace—the exam week was approaching, and he still had a Potions exam in the afternoon.

Potions, for wizards, was no longer an outright disaster.

With some truly useful notes, they at least avoided making Professor Snape’s face turn as black as coal.

Harry remembered how embarrassed he had been during the last in-class Potions quiz, when he simply could not thicken his Forgetfulness Potion.

Snape had watched with clear delight, jotting something down in his notebook before leaving—something that looked suspiciously like a zero.

Such things were now firmly in the past; he could even pass the Potions exam with relative ease.

When they emerged from the dungeons, everyone was still discussing the narrow escape of that test.

That night, young wizards took their Astronomy exam atop the highest tower.

Gazing at the star-strewn night sky, Wizard Sean always thought of his Divination magic.

Despite studying with the Centaur teacher for so long, he still had not unlocked Divination magic.

The Centaur teacher inevitably frowned, recently searching through Centaur knowledge for answers.

In addition, Wizard Sean had already spent more than three hours in the borderlands.

The Book of Dream Tales mentioned that after seven hours, the borderlands’ sky would darken, the stars would blaze brilliantly, and one could see a clear, pure night sky—the perfect moment for divination.

This unusual progress made Wizard Sean think of the borderlands’ legend—the legend of the black cat of good fortune.

At the same time, reading the Book of Dream Tales as the Merlin Tales made Wizard Sean realize that soon, perhaps, he would witness a different borderlands—a starlit borderlands, one where wizards might glimpse even a corner of “the future.”

What changes the borderlands would undergo then—perhaps only Merlin knew.

That night, the weather was clear; after the Astronomy exam, Wizard Sean returned to study Divination with the Centaur teacher.

Though his progress in Divination magic remained stalled at the final stage, it did not prevent him from learning the Centaurs’ knowledge of prophecy.

And the exams continued, unhurriedly.

History of Magic was on Wednesday morning; when Professor Binns’ ghost told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, the young wizards burst into cheers.

Anyone who had read the Green Notes could expect to get a perfect score in History of Magic, and the History of Magic section of the Green Notes was one of the most popular extracurricular books among wizards.

Its popularity nearly rivaled that of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

And it was rumored that the Green Notes would soon release a new section, titled A History of Magical Positions; in recent days, order letters had nearly filled the entire Green Bookshop.

Wednesday afternoon was Herbology exam; baked under the sun in the greenhouses, they returned to the common room with sunburned necks. Everyone looked forward to this time tomorrow—then everything would be over.

Thursday morning was the final exam: Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Snape happily took on the role of examiner; wizards had to duel their classmates in front of him.

In his words:

“Feeble fools have long needed such training.”

Though spells flew wildly during the exam, astonishingly, no one was injured.

When it ended, everyone hurried out of the dueling arena, buzzing with excitement.

Only Wizard Sean was kept behind by Professor Snape.