It was clearly content recently added by Morgan.
"After measuring the 'Hope Factor' in 327 samples, it's confirmed that every fairy tale contains a positive magic fluctuation of specific strength. This fluctuation is positively correlated with the collective consciousness of 'expecting miracles to happen'..."
A paragraph that has been repeatedly edited and rewritten stands out distinctively:
"The most terrifying issue is not the disappearance of fairy tales, but the possibility that people no longer believe in them. When the last 'Muggle-born' stops gazing at the stars, the very foundation of magic will begin to shake..."
At the edge of the page, there is a scrawled arrow pointing to another astonishing discovery written in small print: "Addition: Among the new Hogwarts students in 1991, the proportion of those who 'completely believe in the existence of Magic Creatures' has fallen to 67% (compared to 98% in 1891). It is predicted that this figure will fall below the critical point of 50% in 2001."
Ian felt a wave of shock.
This is not just an academic study.
It seems more like a warning letter from Magic Civilization itself.
Teacher Morgan, using her unique approach, detected the subtle changes that the entire Magic World is experiencing within the seemingly whimsical realm of fairy tales.
Outside the window, the simulated starry sky had unknowingly turned into a somber gray. Inside the Observatory's Crystal Ball, a miniature storm was raging. Ian suddenly understood why Morgan disguised such important research as a fairy tale book—perhaps in this era of rationality, only the form of a "fairy tale" can still retain a bit of curiosity and imagination.
He gently closed the book, and the bell on the back cover emitted a crisp sound. Just then, a new line of gold-embossed letters appeared on the spine:
"To the Little Wizard who discovered this secret:
Remember, the most powerful magic,
is always the courage to believe in 'possibility.'
——M"
Ian held the book tightly to his chest. 1990 marked the end of the era of the last fairy tale and the beginning of a new era. He was unsure of what Teacher Morgan truly foresaw.
But one thing was clear—he was standing at a historical turning point.
"If the last fairy tale comes to an end, does it mean the end of magic as well? I'm just uncertain how many years Hogwarts, the last fairy tale, will continue."
Ian's thoughts lingered on Teacher Morgan's research.
Why does magic decline due to the wavering beliefs of humankind? Clearly, magic originates from the Creator and constitutes one of the basic laws of the world—why is it so closely linked to human 'belief'?
Could this be related to the reason fairy tales were conceived?
He recalled the Creator's heart of molten ravens in a black-and-white world, remembered the distorted rules governing the God of Death, and those vanishing fairy tale magics. A terrifying conjecture gradually took shape in his mind—perhaps what the raven intended to do was not merely to start anew, but also to save fairy tales and the eventual end of magic?!
Before he could fully comprehend it, a familiar sense of detachment suddenly struck. The time for the Misty Illusion Realm had come.
The surroundings began to fade; the Observatory's Crystal Ball, Magic Star Map, even "Mystery of Fairy Tales" in his hand, blurred as if colors were being washed away.
Ian felt his consciousness being gently tugged, as if an invisible hand was lifting him from the canvas.
At the final moment, he saw Teacher Morgan's silhouette appear at the Observatory entrance, her black robe fluttering like raven feathers. She seemed to say something, but the sound elongated into a strange hum and was no longer intelligible.
Darkness.
Then warmth.
Before opening his eyes, Ian smelled the sweet fragrance of Honey Duke's Candy Shop, heard the crackling sound of logs in the fireplace, and—Albus Dumbledore's voice.
"My dear Titan."
Dumbledore's gentle voice carried a hint of helplessness.
"Fox is a companion, not a dish."
He was advising someone.
"But I often stew my own Phoenix," the girl said confidently, "Add a slice of ginger to remove the fishy smell, simmer slowly for three hours, and the feathers will automatically have the texture of golden mushrooms..."
Amidst this debate.
Ian opened his eyes.