The next morning, the first rays of sunlight slanted through the arched, high windows of the West Tower, spilling into Viktor's quarters.
Viktor slowly opened his eyes. There was none of the usual grogginess or fatigue that accompanied waking up.
Instead, his mind felt exceptionally clear and sharp, as if it had been washed by the purest mountain spring.
He felt completely refreshed.
Lying on his soft bed, he didn't get up immediately. He just let his thoughts flow freely.
In his mind, the vast tapestry and countless fragments of inspiration regarding spatial magic, contract magic, and cognitive architecture he had seen in the diadem's mind palace last night hadn't blurred with sleep.
Instead, they seemed activated by the morning light, becoming even sharper and more vibrant.
Countless novel ideas, bold hypotheses, and exquisite structural concepts bubbled up continuously like a fountain.
"The Nested Stability of Spatial Folding," "Dynamic Equilibrium Nodes in Contract Magic," "The Coupling Effect of Mana Flow and Spatial Expansion," "How to Spiritually Graft an Animal Companion Contract onto a Magical Artifact"—
They collided, intertwined, and evolved, forming a swirling vortex of infinite inspiration.
Viktor couldn't help but chuckle softly. The feeling was simply too incredible.
He rolled over and looked at the luxurious cat bed nearby.
Sure enough, Tom was still fast asleep inside, his silver-white belly rising and falling with each breath.
His four paws would occasionally twitch unconsciously; he was clearly deep in a sweet dream filled with dried fish and grand adventures.
Viktor reached over, expertly and gently scruffing and rubbing Tom's fluffy head and the back of his neck.
The cat let out two comfortable purrs in his sleep, the tip of his tail flicking unconsciously as he shifted into an even more stretched-out position, showing zero signs of waking up.
"Sleep well, little explorer," Viktor whispered, pulling his hand back with a smile in his eyes.
Wasting no more time, he got up quietly.
After a quick wash, he didn't even bother to eat the hearty breakfast the house-elves had delivered right on time.
He just downed a glass of perfectly warmed pumpkin juice, then hurried over to the recliner by the window, eagerly picking up Ravenclaw's diadem from the side table where he'd left it the night before.
The cold touch of the metal returned.
Viktor took a deep breath and placed it firmly on his head.
Instantly, the noise of the outside world faded away, and that profound internal tranquility and clarity descended once more.
His consciousness was gently pulled, instantly sinking back into his own newly revitalized mind palace.
The deep blue circular room. The shifting silver star charts. The towering bookshelves reaching for the ceiling.
Everything was exactly as it had been last night, yet it seemed to possess an indescribable spark of "vitality."
Viktor's consciousness immediately homed in on the hidden gift triggered the previous night—those profound insights and design concepts regarding the true nature of spatial and contract magic.
He was no longer just browsing and memorizing; he actively and purposefully began to organize, analyze, and extrapolate.
The first thing to catch his attention was Madam Ravenclaw's stroke of absolute genius when designing the Room of Requirement.
Anchoring the core architecture of the magical space directly onto key nodes within Hogwarts Castle's massive, hyper-stable, ancient magical network.
In the "blueprints" and "streams of inspiration" projected by the diadem, Viktor clearly "saw" it:
The Room of Requirement was not some isolated, artificially created extra-dimensional pocket.
While its entrance could manifest at a specific spot on the eighth floor...
...the foundation of its existence, the energy required for its transformations, and the "intelligent" logic used to respond to users' needs were all deeply rooted in the magical ley lines of Hogwarts itself.
It was like a masterfully crafted magical parasite, or rather, a symbiote. It drew the magic needed to sustain its existence and perform miracles directly from the castle.
Simultaneously, by virtue of its unique existence, it added a flexible "variable node" to the castle's magical network, greatly enriching its overall defense and functional systems.
Anchoring... Magical nodes...
The spark of Viktor's consciousness danced with excitement within his mind palace.
A bold, brilliant idea flashed through his mind like lightning!
What about his own suitcase's expanded space?
That portable micro-world he had painstakingly built, integrating the Undetectable Extension Charm, spatial stabilization runes, ecological simulation magic, and various other systems.
Currently, it relied entirely on his own magical input and pre-stored magical crystals to maintain its stability and expand.
Although excellently designed and highly self-sufficient, it inherently had its limits.
But what if... just like the Room of Requirement, he could "anchor" the core of his suitcase space onto Hogwarts' magical nodes?
Viktor's mind began to race at top speed. Boosted by the diadem, he simulated the specific details of this possibility.
The accumulated millennium-old ley lines and castle magic of Hogwarts possessed a volume and stability that dwarfed any individual wizard.
Once successfully anchored, the energy supply for his suitcase space would be fundamentally guaranteed. The spatial structure would become unprecedentedly stable, and its ability to resist external interference and internal anomalies would increase exponentially.
And with near-infinite, stable magical support, expanding the internal space of the suitcase in the future—adding more complex environmental simulations like extreme weather or specialized magical fields, or constructing stronger protective and functional zones—would be a breeze.
He could even attempt to build advanced magical ecosystems or experimental grounds that required a continuous, massive drain of magic.
But the most crucial point! Currently, the entrance to the suitcase moved with the physical case itself.
If he could establish a permanent, stable spatial anchor point within Hogwarts Castle, it would be the equivalent of opening a "fixed portal" to his suitcase right inside the school.
The benefits were obvious. Entry and exit would be vastly more convenient and discreet. He wouldn't need to carry the physical case around at all times, and the case itself could serve as a backup entrance or be reserved for special uses.
He could permanently install rarely used but vital facilities, reserves, or even dangerous experimental zones inside the suitcase space, accessing them safely via the fixed entrance.
This could even lay the groundwork for eventually developing the suitcase space into a sort of "demi-plane," an "affiliated secret realm," or perhaps a genuine, self-sustaining micro-world!
The thought made Viktor's heart pound with excitement.
And doing so would also benefit Hogwarts—adding to its foundation, stabilizing its spatial fabric, and enriching its defensive measures and species diversity.
Of course, he was wide awake to the massive challenges involved.
How to precisely locate a node within Hogwarts' magical network that was suitable for "anchoring," while remaining relatively safe and hidden.
How to establish a stable, secure, and controllable spatial tunnel without interfering with or damaging the castle's existing magical systems.
Furthermore, given that Hogwarts' magical network possessed strong autonomy and an ancient guardian contract, how would he even get "permission" to anchor to it?
Perhaps he could start by crafting a transitional tool—something to first establish a basic link between his suitcase and the castle.
The young wizards themselves might actually make an excellent medium.
Young wizards, the suitcase, magical creatures...
"Perhaps a game would be a good entry point. This direction should work perfectly, and the potential is limitless..."
Viktor muttered to himself within his mind palace, his eyes flashing with the fanatical light of a true researcher.