[The Sovereign of Dream and Mist, the Bridge Between Life and Death, the Symbol of Eternal Good Fortune.
As you can see, these are merely the titles ordinary wizards have given to a god.
As one of the fortunate few, I traveled with him through a magical realm unknown and untouched by anyone until now.
And now, I will tell you that story.]
Sean quietly turned to the next page.
[Before I begin my tale, it would be best if you have already read Dream Stories.
In fact, I once wanted to title this book Dream Stories: Revised Edition, but reality was less accommodating. The company refused to grant me the rights, since I had once damaged their bookshop, which was, admittedly, an unintended consequence of retrieving a magical creature—]
The corners of Sean's mouth lifted slightly as he kept reading more carefully.
[A god is a cat. This is something I am certain of.
Or perhaps a powerful magical creature? That much I cannot say for sure.
But powerful magic always leaves traces. If you are fortunate enough to encounter Him, then this book will have meaning and use.
A wizard always contains conflicting beliefs. If you ever step into that divine domain, remembering this will be of necessary help.
Positive belief will guide a wizard, and I believe only pure-hearted wizards receive a god's favor. If butchers or murderers intrude into that realm, then it may become a cruel punishment instead.]
Why?
Sean grew curious.
Then he suddenly froze. He remembered Voldemort's soul fragment—and what had happened to it when he brought Harry into the dream…
Sean abruptly looked up at the Hufflepuff senior being surrounded by Hermione and the others, then lowered his eyes back to the page.
Whatever basis the senior had used, he had somehow gotten it exactly right.
[If angels exist, then within a wizard's soul there exists an aspect that symbolizes the angel.
Conversely, the soul has more than one side.
Among those different aspects, there exists a demonic opposite soul. Magical history often links it with devils.
This is one concrete manifestation of the opposite soul.
Judging from scattered fragments throughout magical history, the opposite soul is either the devil itself, or one of the devil's most loyal defenders.
When the opposite soul is exposed, revealed, or restrained, it usually flees through the window, shouting as it escapes.
This scene recurs again and again in the legends of Melusine. When a "female spirit" or "female demon" is discovered, she disappears or escapes through the roof.]
Sean was a little stunned.
The history of magic was simply too long, and Mr. Scamander's words had already been verified.
The exact same scene had appeared in canon.
It had been described like this:
Harry and Hermione were trapped by snakes, while Voldemort stood not far away. Then—"Harry, ignoring the broken glass slicing his cheek, grabbed Hermione and leapt from the bedside to the dressing table, jumping straight out the shattered window into empty air. Her scream echoed through the night as they spun in midair—
At that moment, Harry's scar split open in pain, and it was as though he had become Voldemort. He strode across the foul-smelling bedroom, his long pale fingers clutching the windowsill.
He saw the man and the little woman spinning away into nothingness, and he howled with fury. His cry merged with the girl's, echoing through the dark garden and drowning out the Christmas bells from the church—
His cry was Harry's cry, his pain was Harry's pain—"
At that moment, Harry and Voldemort became one another's opposite souls. Sean had also learned another term for it: antithetical embodiment.
[When a wizard enters a god's domain, one thing is certain—he is naked.
Only the soul is exposed there, and so the angel and the demon must fight for victory.
And unpleasantly enough, the angel does not win so easily. Once enough time passes, the angel's defeat becomes inevitable.
Therefore, it is very difficult for a wizard to enter a god's domain, and even if he is fortunate enough to do so, he cannot remain for long.
Except for one thing—
a god.
Next, I will tell you the story of the god—]
"Sean!"
Hermione and Justin came jogging back over, signed copies in hand. They stared at Sean, then at the cat on the cover.
The suspicion on Hermione's face was practically overflowing.
Justin, meanwhile, looked hesitant, as though he wanted to ask something but didn't know how to begin.
"This is—"
Hermione puffed up her cheeks.
"A black cat."
Sean answered without the slightest sign of annoyance at being interrupted.
"Thanks. My eyes aren't failing yet."
Hermione said irritably.
Then she examined the little wizard from head to toe.
Sean gently closed the book. He had already decided to buy a copy.
"All right, then—"
he prompted.
"Hmph. Nothing."
In the end, Hermione swallowed her suspicion.
Fine. Sean was always like this. If he thought they should know something, he would tell them.
That didn't mean she was giving up on investigating.
She knew who had dreamed such beautiful dreams—Ginny and Hannah.
She would find the answer herself.
Diagon Alley, that long cobbled street lined with the most enticing wizarding shops in the world—
Wizards could, at any moment, slip into the back courtyard, pull out their wand, tap the third brick up from the left on the wall—
and then step back and watch the entrance to Diagon Alley open in the wall before them.
One of the most eye-catching shops among them was, as always, the broom shop.
Today was no exception.
Quality Quidditch Supplies was crowded again.
Harry and Ron wanted to know what everyone was staring at, so they squeezed their way inside.
Sean didn't join them. He stood there reading.
The others quickly pushed their way through the excited witches and wizards.
At last they spotted a newly erected stand, and on it rested the finest broom they had ever seen.
"Just out—sample—"
a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion.
"That's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?"
a boy younger than Harry shrieked, tugging at his father's arm.
"The Irish International Side has just placed an order for seven of these beauties!"
the shopkeeper told the crowd. "They're the hottest thing for this year's World Cup!"
A large witch in front of Harry shifted aside, and Harry finally saw the sign next to the broom:
Firebolt. This latest high-speed racing broom features a streamlined design, a top-quality ash handle polished to perfection, and a hand-engraved registration number. Every carefully selected birch twig in the tail has been whittled into an aerodynamic shape, giving the broom unrivaled balance and superb precision. The Firebolt can accelerate from naught to 150 miles per hour in ten seconds and boasts almost magical braking power. Price on request.
Price on request—
Harry immediately started wondering how much a Firebolt would cost.
And while Harry stared at it with open longing, he paid no attention to the other witches and wizards around him, nor to the black dog that had appeared again.
And on this very day—on the day Sirius had decided to buy a broom, on the day he stood there clutching Dreams and Gods and looking fervently toward the wizard he had chosen to follow—
he never could have imagined it.
In the beautiful dream he desired, it was easiest to lose oneself.
Because a wizard's soul is not only light. It has a dark side as well.
"When a wizard enters a god's domain, one thing is certain—he is naked.
Only the soul is exposed there, and so the angel and the demon must fight for victory—"
~~~
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