"A dream that exists solely for you."
This sentence left Hannah in a daze for a long time. She looked at her own sleeping profile, then turned her head. The black cat was batting at a clump of mist, gently nudging it closer to her.
At the same time, the mist surrounding the black cat seemed to come alive. Over seventy distinct clusters floated out, drifting to Hannah's side.
She could see them clearly—her fellow club members. Faint, silvery threads now connected each of them to her. Even the ones she had argued with yesterday, and even those she hadn't spoken to in a week.
"Sleep liberates the wizard's soul. Reality and distance are no longer obstacles here..." the black cat said. "What the daylight locks away, dreams deliver to us."
He naturally understood the secret connections between the young wizards' dream clusters.
"I see Susan, Ernie... and Neville..."
Hannah was astonished, but she observed the dream clusters with high spirits. Through the misty surfaces of these orbs, she could glimpse the dreams of her friends. How magical!
"One, two, three... seventy-six..."
She counted on her fingers. The final number made the black cat's ears twitch slightly.
He had his answer.
"Oh! Would you be willing to answer my remaining questions? Will you appear in the castle again?"
After finishing her observation, Hannah asked cautiously.
"I have always been there," the black cat replied.
"Oh, Merlin—" Hannah's face flushed red.
"Then we... we held a massive event during the Valentine's Day holiday. There were exactly seventy-seven participants... Did you..." Hannah's voice trailed off into a whisper.
"Yes." The black cat nodded.
"That's wonderful..."
Hannah looked up, watching as the black cat gathered the mist clusters and let them settle near the Victorian-style architecture in the distance.
"Well then, sweet dreams."
With a flick of the black cat's tail, a faint, glowing orb of mist floated over.
Perhaps, as Hannah had asked: Whose dream is this?
Was it Hannah's, or was it the black cat's?
In truth, both were correct. However, as the dominant party, it felt more like the black cat's dream. This was demonstrated by the fact that the black cat could simply manipulate the mist, control certain desires, and partition parts of his consciousness.
These two elements—desire and consciousness—were the magical components of a wizard's soul and the root of a wizard's existence in the Borderlands.
Just like now, the black cat was manipulating pleasant dreams, guiding them to Hannah's side.
The young witch would have a sweet dream tonight.
But what the black cat didn't know was that she was already having one.
"Can I ask you one last question?" Before the mist rose to envelop her, Hannah asked nervously.
The black cat, having jumped down from a mist cluster, nodded.
"Will you always be there? When can we find you?" Perhaps realizing she was about to leave, Hannah's voice grew louder.
"I will only leave when I am no longer needed," the black cat thought for a moment and said. "At Hogwarts, wizards will always find that help is given to those who ask for it."
With a sway of his tail, Hannah vanished into the mist, carrying with her a sense of unreality.
---
The Borderlands became increasingly white and vast.
The black cat followed a specific, unique thread, weaving through the world behind the Veil.
He understood the source of those thread clusters now.
It appeared that a special ritual had established a connection between the young wizards and him.
Seventy-seven people. That specific number was likely the key to the ritual magic.
Enough wizards, generating enough magical energy, creating a unique form of belief, and establishing a deep bond. This kind of connection was undoubtedly tied to the most profound ancient magic.
But Sean didn't yet know the specific mechanics of it. He could only ponder and guess...
The black cat moved with increasing agility, his speed picking up. Exploring the mysteries of magic always made his blood pump faster.
After several minutes, the black cat stopped at a very particular location.
This place had once been a lakeside—tranquil, but slightly desolate. But now, a small cottage had been built here.
Smoke puffed cheerfully from the chimney, and a front garden blooming with flowers lined the wooden walls.
Curious, the black cat stepped into the front yard. He noticed several unique objects placed in front of the house.
A rusty sword encrusted with rubies was stuck into the ground; a variety of colorful plants were arranged in a winding row along the wall; and there was an exquisite locket, heavy and ancient, resting nearby.
The black cat walked into the garden. Copper-bottomed flowerpots hung from upright pumpkin vines. These pots contained curling ferns and creeping vines that tried to groom the black cat's fur as he passed beneath them.
The black cat felt this garden resembled something Lady Hufflepuff might have planted. After all, the Hufflepuff common room boasted similarly unique flora.
Observing as he went, the black cat arrived at the wooden door. He raised a paw to knock, only to see a smaller door cut into the bottom of the wood. Written on it were the words:
[Reserved for Black Cat]
"Helena, did you hear that? Luck is knocking at the door," a voice spoke from inside the house.
The black cat stood at the door, motionless. He felt that entering through the pet flap was out of the question. He was a wizard, after all.
"Come in, my dear Druid," the voice said again.
"It's Animagus," the black cat corrected.
"Green—"
Fortunately, a familiar figure opened the main door.
"Helena."
The black cat's whiskers twitched, feeling the joy of reuniting with an old friend.
Helena's once grey-white, ghostly body had become solid. Sean could see the blue of her eyes and the vibrant bronze of her gown.
"You see, Green? Because of you, a part of me no longer lingers in the grey. It has color," Helena said with a smile.
The black cat froze for a moment, suddenly at a loss for words.
Eventually, he entered the cottage.
But what he didn't see was that after he went inside, another wizard happened to be passing by.
He held a book in his hands, his eyes wide and his mouth agape as he witnessed the entire scene. His quill didn't stop for a second, scratching across the parchment with a rustling sound:
[Yes, I, the Wizard Ritter, have always believed the story of the Lucky Black Cat is true.]
[But no wizard ever knew how to properly wait for it. However, now, Wizard Ritter understands.]
[A wizard in the Borderlands, no matter the time, must leave a small flap in their closed wooden door. That is where luck enters.]
Wizard Ritter didn't leave. He held the parchment in his hands as if holding a sacred treasure.
He looked at the garden. He remembered coming here once before.
Originally, there had been no cottage and no garden. It was as if fireworks had exploded in his mind, and he quickly raised his quill to write:
[This place was once desolate, barren of grass or tree. But after the Cat arrived, flowers bloomed everywhere.]
[Wizard Ritter thinks: To possess flowers is to possess good luck.]