Over the following days, the students of Hogwarts noticed a strange phenomenon.
The Gryffindor freshman who used to tell bizarre jokes at the dinner table that no one understood, constantly cracking cheeky quips—Rayleigh Stark—had suddenly underwent a complete change of character.
He no longer joined in Wizard’s Chess matches, nor did he linger to complain about Snape with the others.
“Rayleigh!
Come on over!
Ron just got a brand-new set of Exploding Snap cards.
We’re waiting on you for the first round!” Harry called out, waving from by the fireplace in the common room.
Rayleigh didn’t even raise his head.
Hugging three books on magic history that were thicker than bricks, he hurried past.
“Can’t, can’t!
I’ve got a meeting.” “A meeting?” Ron poked his head out from behind Harry, his face brimming with gossip.
“Who with?
A girl?” Rayleigh paused, turning back to give him a profoundly mysterious smile.
“Something far more important than a girl.
My knowledge, my power, my future—they’re all waiting for me.” With that, under the stunned gazes of Ron and Harry, he plunged headfirst down the corridor leading to the library without looking back.
“Has he lost his mind?” Ron whispered to Harry.
Harry shook his head, equally stumped.
“Maybe…
it’s just a rich-guy quirk.” *** Rayleigh wasn’t crazy, of course.
He was just on the verge of being driven mad by an elite monster named Corpsefire.
Classes by day, diving headlong into the library by night—his life now was even more intense and nerve-wracking than cramming for college entrance exams.
Hogwarts’s library was a treasure trove, but it was also a labyrinth.
When Rayleigh first arrived, staring up at rows of bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling, he felt as tiny as an ant.
“Excuse me, do you know where I can find books on the weaknesses of undead creatures?
Preferably the kind dealing with…
physical exorcism?” Rayleigh caught a passing upperclasswoman.
She looked at him as if he were an idiot and casually pointed a finger.
“Restricted Section.
Turn right out the door, get a signed slip from a professor, and good luck.” Rayleigh: “…” Fine.
That door was firmly closed; no professor would ever grant a first-year permission to enter the Restricted Section.
He had to resort to the dumbest method available: flipping through them one by one.
Just as his head was spinning over a volume titled *On the Intrinsic Connection Between Runes and Ancient Alchemy*, a crisp female voice spoke up beside him.
“What are you looking for?” Rayleigh looked up and saw Hermione Granger.
She was clutching a stack of books that was even taller than his, her bushy brown hair making her instantly recognizable.
“I’m looking for…
how to take down a zombie that can absorb a ridiculous amount of damage,” Rayleigh answered half-truthfully.
Hermione’s eyes lit up.
“A zombie?
Is it an ordinary Inferius, or a special breed modified by Dark Magic?
Is its movement slow or swift?
Has it shown any specific resistances, like to fire or freezing?” The barrage of questions caught Rayleigh entirely off guard.
*Talk about hitting the right subject matter expertise.* “Blazing fast, incredibly tough.
Fireballs barely singe its hide.
Frost magic can slow it down, but it’s got minions to soak up hits for it,” Rayleigh described concisely.
Hermione was instantly intrigued.
Though she felt Rayleigh’s description sounded rather absurd, she set down her books and pulled up a chair beside him.
“That doesn’t sound like a regular undead creature.
According to *The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection*, most zombies fear fire and move sluggishly.
The kind you’re talking about sounds more like it was reinforced by some powerful curse or alchemy.” “Yes, yes, exactly!” Rayleigh nodded furiously, feeling like he’d finally found someone on his wavelength.
“Miss Know-it-all, is there any spell that can deal with something like this?
Ideally wide-area, high-damage, capable of blowing away both the boss and its minions all at once?” “Your request is far too vague,” Hermione said, knitting her neat eyebrows together.
“A spell’s power depends on the wizard casting it.
Besides, the spells taught at school are intended for defense and control.
Very few exist purely for destruction.” Seeing Rayleigh’s disappointed expression, she added, “However, I can help you look into it.
I’m quite interested in ancient Dark magical creatures myself.” From that day on, the Gryffindors grew even more astonished.
Rayleigh Stark, that unserious fellow, had actually become thick as thieves with the top student in their year, the “nerd” Hermione, camping out in the library together.
The two were constantly huddling over piles of dusty ancient tomes, whispering in quiet conversation.
Hermione became Rayleigh’s most powerful external brain.
“Rayleigh, I found something!
*Deadly Monsters of the Wizarding World* mentions something called ‘Corpse Puppets.’ They’re created using the corpses of soldiers from battlefields mixed with special potions.
They know no fear of death and even retain certain combat instincts.” “And this!
*Forgotten Ancient Spells* has a curse called the ‘Bone-Rotting Curse.’ It acts directly on the bones of undead creatures, causing them to collapse from within.
But the incantation is extremely obscure, and the hand gestures are insanely complex.” Hermione pushed a heavy book in front of Rayleigh, pointing to a passage written in Ancient Elvish.
Rayleigh stared at the squiggles and felt a massive headache coming on.
“Sister, mind giving me a translation?” “Of course!” Hermione pushed up her nonexistent glasses, flashing the confident smile of a top student.
*** With Hermione acting as his super search engine, Rayleigh’s understanding of magic advanced by leaps and bounds.
Nor did he slack off on his end.
Every night, he would appear right on schedule before the portal in the Rogue Encampment and resolutely step into the Den of Evil.
Grinding experience was tedious and dangerous.
He stopped provoking Corpsefire, sticking to the outer perimeters of the cave to clear stray Fallen and zombies using Fireball and his Gut-Wrenching Hex.
His experience points ticked upward bit by bit.
Finally, one night, as his last Fireball set the final Fallen ablaze, a burst of golden light erupted around him.
[Congratulations!
Level up to Level 6!] [Maximum Health increased!
Maximum Mana increased!] [You have met the requirements to learn a new skill.
Please select your new skill:] Rayleigh chose Inferno without a second thought.
A surge of searing energy flooded his body, and the casting method and mana flow paths for Inferno were instantly imprinted into his mind.
He raised his hand, pointing it at a bare cavern wall.
“Inferno!” A jet of dark red, almost black flame spewed from his palm, carrying a stench of sulfur and the aura of destruction.
The stream lacked the fierce heat of ordinary fire, radiating an eerie chill instead.
Where the flames licked the stone walls, they left behind blackened, indelible scorch marks.
What thrilled Rayleigh even more was that he could sense the flame burning something invisible and intangible beyond mere matter.
Souls!
“Holy crap…
this thing is a hard counter to all kinds of fancy nonsense!” Rayleigh’s eyes opened wide.
His mind instantly flashed to Voldemort.
The Dark Lord who had chopped himself into multiple pieces and hidden them inside Horcruxes.
Ordinary spells were completely useless against the Dark Lord’s soul form, and magic capable of affecting souls was invariably high-tier—like the Patronus Charm—which was obviously far beyond Rayleigh’s current caliber.
But Inferno was different!
A skill granted by leveling up in the Diablo system could be cast instantly and mastered on the spot.
“Huge profit!
Absolute jackpot!” Rayleigh practically leaped into the air with excitement.
Now that he had Inferno, he at least possessed some fighting chance if he ever had to face Voldemort.
However, once his excitement cooled, Rayleigh tested Inferno’s effectiveness against zombies.
The results were utterly disappointing.
Against regular zombies, Inferno worked wonders; the dark red fire clung to them and burned them to ash in no time.
But when he carefully lured over one of Corpsefire’s minions and blasted it with a stream of Inferno, the zombie merely wobbled.
Its health bar drained even slower than when hit by his Gut-Wrenching Hex.
“Damn it, I forgot this skill was practically useless in the game!” Rayleigh slapped his forehead in frustration.
Inferno was a channeled spell that rooted him in place while casting, turning him into a sitting duck.
Its soul-burning special effect was heavily diminished against undead creatures that either lacked souls entirely or possessed incomplete ones.
And a pure physical monster like Corpsefire had massive HP and high defense; Inferno’s continuous damage was like giving it a mild scratch.
Hope dashed once more.
Rayleigh returned to Hogwarts in defeat.
*** “Listen up, class!
The Levitation Charm is one of the most fundamental and crucial spells you will learn!” In Charms class, tiny Professor Flitwick stood atop a stack of books, shouting in his high-pitched voice.
“Remember: *Wingardium Leviosa*!
Swish and flick!
Come now, everyone together!” A chaotic choir of incantations echoed through the classroom.
Rayleigh waved his wand listlessly.
“*Wingardium Leviosa.*” The feather before him didn’t budge an inch.
His mind wasn’t on the lesson at all, consumed entirely by thoughts of how to survive Corpsefire’s charging attack.
Next to him, Ron was flushed red, waving his wand at his feather with violent gusto like a conductor’s baton.
“*Winggar-dian levi-o-sa!*” Hermione immediately corrected him.
“No, stop!
It’s *Leviosa*, not *levi-o-sa*!” Ron snapped back defensively, “You do it then, if you’re so clever!
Go on, make it fly!” “*Wingardium Leviosa.*” Hermione executed an elegant swish and flick, and the feather in front of her floated gracefully into the air.
Ron’s face immediately fell.
On the other side, Seamus Finnigan was clearly running into trouble too, poking his feather and spraying spit as he chanted.
“*Winggar…
BOOM!*” With a loud bang, the feather exploded, leaving his face caked in black soot.
The classroom instantly erupted in cheerful laughter.
Watching this scene, Rayleigh couldn’t bring himself to laugh at all.
He felt his situation was hardly better than Seamus’s feather; at any moment, Corpsefire’s iron fist could turn him into a bloody burst of splatter with a loud *BOOM*.
Professor Flitwick cleared his throat, trying to draw the students’ attention back.
“Never forget the importance of incantation accuracy!
Every single syllable matters!
When I was young, a classmate mispronounced the Levitation Charm—instead of making the feather float, he summoned a bull right through the ceiling!” The professor’s anecdote sent the whole class into giggles.
*Summon a bull?
Just how badly do you have to mess up for that?* Yet what sounded like a mere joke to everyone else struck Rayleigh’s ears like a bolt of lightning.
His body gave a sudden jolt.
A rusty string in his brain was fiercely plucked.
*Mispronouncing it…
summons a bull?* *A bull…
falling from the sky?* An utterly insane, ridiculously bold, insanely abstract idea instantly took shape in his mind.
What if…
What if, just as Corpsefire charged right up to him…
He intentionally mispronounced the Levitation Charm…
Wouldn’t a bull materialize out of thin air and…
crash directly onto Corpsefire’s head?
*Holy crap…
isn’t that literally justice from above?!* *Not only does it deal damage, but it also acts as a roadblock to stop those rushing mobs!* *The only risk is making sure the bull doesn’t crush me instead.* “Holy crap…
I’m a genius!” Rayleigh was so excited he nearly leapt out of his chair.
He stared at the motionless feather in front of him, his eyes blazing with unprecedented fervor.
“*Wingardium…
levio-bull!*” He lowered his voice and mumbled a butchered syllable at the feather.
Nothing happened.
*It seems even the wrong way requires a precise mistake.* “I need to study this thoroughly!” Rayleigh resolved.
He only had one life; he needed to be completely prepared.
The gaze he fixed on Professor Flitwick turned intensely eager.
*Professor, please, tell us more about that stupid classmate of yours!*