At exactly twelve o'clock, Leon tapped his wand gently on his head.
"Disillusionment Charm."
A sensation like an egg being smashed on his head spread out, as if something cold and viscous was flowing down from his scalp to cover his entire body.
This was a spell recorded in the Half-Blood Prince's notebook, and its versatility for students wandering at night was simply too strong.
The reason this spell wasn't mentioned much in the original story, Leon guessed, was that Harry didn't need it and therefore never learned it. After all, he had the Invisibility Cloak—he didn't need the Disillusionment Charm at all.
Snape was indeed brilliant. He had detailed the principles of the Disillusionment Charm in his notebook: the basis of the spell's function was to make the target's surface display a perfect mirror image of the environment behind it.
When you cast the Disillusionment Charm on an object or person, the magic doesn't make you "invisible." Rather, it precisely replicates the scenery, lighting, and textures behind or around you and overlays them onto your body's surface.
From the perspective of physical optics, this meant light no longer hit you and reflected into other people's eyes—it passed through you, or more accurately, was "deceived" by the mirror magic on your surface. What the observer saw was the wall that should be behind you, not you yourself. It was like wearing a skin-tight suit woven from an "environmental snapshot."
So simply put, the Disillusionment Charm was like applying a continuously active, dynamic, high-precision optical camouflage. It didn't make you disappear; it turned you into the wall behind you.
Fully prepared, Leon crept out of the common room passage, and the barrel door closed silently behind him. The underground corridor was cold and damp, and his footsteps made almost no sound... This was a skill he had practised, as the Disillusionment Charm couldn't muffle footsteps.
While passing through the kitchen corridor, he was almost bumped into by a house-elf. The elf was carrying a stack of frying pans taller than herself, muttering as she walked: "Winky needs to polish these pans brighter. The masters will use them for breakfast tomorrow. If the fried eggs stick to the pan, Winky is a useless elf..."
Leon pressed himself against the base of the wall to make way, holding his breath. The elf walked past him without any reaction.
Phase one, successful.
He climbed the stairs, navigating the shifting steps—fortunately, he had used the system in advance to mark the movement patterns of the stairs for today; otherwise just finding his way could have taken until dawn. Passing the fourth floor, he heard Peeves humming a song from a classroom:
"Pink toad, wearing pink socks, sitting on the podium, turning into a toad~"
Leon silently gave Peeves a thumbs up and continued upward.
The library was on the fifth floor.
He stood before the main doors, his heartbeat beginning to accelerate. The heavy oak doors were ajar, revealing a faint glimmer of moonlight through the crack—the moon outside was full, and its silvery-white light poured in through the high windows, paving a cold halo on the floor.
Madam Pince was not there.
Leon squeezed sideways through the door and moved slowly, keeping close to the bookshelves. His eyes swept across the rows of towering shelves, searching for any potential threats.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
He walked to the centre of the library, stopped, and pricked up his ears to listen carefully.
There was only the sound of his own heartbeat—thump, thump, thump—sounding like a beating drum in the silence.
He continued forward, moving toward the Restricted Section. In the game, this path had at least three waves of ghost patrols: one circling from the eastern bookshelves, one floating over from the western reading area, and one guarding the iron gate of the Restricted Section, completely unavoidable.
The Disillusionment Charm was utterly useless against ghosts; they could detect life energy. In the game, he could only control the protagonist to throw things to distract them, break some armour or something to create noise, and exploit the timing gaps in the ghosts' patrols—only then could he barely slip in.
But now—
Let alone ghosts, there wasn't even a shadow of a spirit.
As he passed a row of History of Magic tomes, a spider crawled out from behind a book spine and slowly crossed his line of sight. Leon stared at the spider for five seconds, suddenly feeling a sense of absurdity.
There were more spiders than ghosts.
He continued forward, passed through the reading area, bypassed the giant oak table, and arrived at the familiar iron gate.
The gate was open.
Not ajar, but wide open, as if welcoming him in.
Leon stood at the entrance in silence.
The Restricted Section was pitch black inside, with only the moonlight shining through the high windows, plating the rows of book spines with silver edges. The titles on those spines loomed in the moonlight: Magick Moste Evile, Curses and Counter-Curses, Dark Arts: From Beginner to Mastery (With Practical Cases), Twelve Ways to Split the Soul...
Leon stepped inside.
There was not the slightest obstruction or triggered alarm.
He walked to the centre of the Restricted Section and raised his wand.
"Revelio."
An invisible ripple spread out from the tip of his wand, sweeping across the entire Restricted Section. Halos of various colours began to emerge in Leon's vision—the ordinary books on the shelves were light grey, a few particularly ancient tomes were dark yellow, and a dust-covered chest in the corner was brown...
Then, he saw it.
In the deepest part of the Restricted Section, next to an inconspicuous bookshelf, a cluster of eerie blue light flickered quietly in the darkness. That light wasn't a reflection of the moonlight, nor was it a Lumos charm—it was its own light source, like a shrunken star, or a drop of solidified blue ink, pulsating in the dark, brightening and dimming as if it were the heartbeat of some ancient creature.
Leon's breathing stopped for a moment.
He walked over, bypassed the row of bookshelves, and arrived in front of the light.
It was an irregular crystal.
About the size of an adult's fist, shaped like a squashed star, with countless tiny facets on its edges. It hovered in the air about half a metre off the ground, without any support—just hanging there quietly, emitting a faint blue glow. The halo formed a faint mist around it, looking very much like a miniature aurora.
He reached out his hand. The moment his fingertips touched the surface of the crystal, a bizarre sensation transmitted from his fingertips—not cold, not hot, but a tingling tremor, as if something was awakening inside the crystal, probing through that hard surface to tentatively touch his skin.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Read Advanced Chapters :
patreon.com/Roja348
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.