The moment Raven came to a stop, he found himself in a pitch-black space.
The only visible surface was the mirrored floor beneath his feet.
A cold, synthesized electronic voice echoed from all around.
“Greetings, Host of the [Strongest Wizard System]. Welcome to the Trial Space. Complete three Wizarding Trials to pass the test and receive exceptionally lavish rewards. Please choose your first trial.”
As the voice faded, a light screen materialized in the air.
It was a pop-up window formatted in the style of Windows 10:
[Trial of Magic – My magic will tear you to pieces]
[Trial of Might – I will tear you to pieces]
[Trial of Mind – Tear you to pieces]
Embarrassment?
What was that?
Raven had no such concept—and besides, there was no one else here anyway.
This so-called “[Strongest Wizard System]” was just the name Raven had slapped onto the Field Guide after tinkering with it.
He had created the thing purely for kicks and giggles, and the grandiose name was meant to take the absurdity all the way to the end.
Whether anyone inherited it or not, his base would continue to run smoothly under Old Deek’s management.
And even if Old Deek passed away from old age one day, there was still Phineas Nigellus Black the phoenix—even the phoenix itself didn’t know the natural lifespan of its kind.
So, as the product of a temporary whim, this “system” wasn’t particularly complex.
Spell amplification—or rather, allocating talent points—was its primary function.
When an inheritor reached a certain level, they would receive a prompt.
For example:
[Use Ancient Magic to activate the Field Guide, then trigger the Room of Requirement to begin the Base Inheritor Trial]
Under the original settings, an inheritor would only trigger this message after unlocking ten talents, because these trials were quite difficult for ordinary wizards.
Raven, however, possessed complete confidence.
Not because he had left himself a back door, but because he knew exactly what lay behind these trials, and with his current abilities, he could easily complete them by clever means.
Without hesitation, Raven decided to go in order and pressed his hand onto the Trial of Magic.
“My magic will tear you to pieces.”
A cold, haughty female voice resonated through the dark space.
The environment shifted once more.
The floor beneath his feet changed drastically from the mirrored surface to hexagonal stone tiles.
Instead of absolute darkness, he now stood high in the sky before an isolated floating island.
Connecting Raven to the island was a crystal bridge—though calling it a bridge was generous, as it was merely a single layer of glass plating.
Every talent point spent increased a young wizard’s base magic capacity.
The talent [Spell Knowledge] could directly double a young wizard’s total base magic.
And that talent could be taken three times, meaning that even without counting the bonus magic from other talent upgrades, a wizard who inherited the Field Guide would possess four times the magic power of peers their age.
Strictly speaking, a talent like that shouldn’t have been called [Spell Knowledge]; it should have been named Magic Amplification.
But who cared?
It was a talent name Raven had lifted directly from a game and customized himself.
He could call it whatever he liked.
Raven stepped onto the crystal bridge and walked over to the floating island.
The moment his feet touched the island’s soil, a duel platform manifested in its exact center.
A middle-aged wizard with dark hair, a goatee, and a tailored green jacket was standing on one side of the platform.
Phineas Nigellus Black.
The most unpopular Headmaster in Hogwarts history, and a quintessential Slytherin wizard.
The reason Raven had named his phoenix Phineas Nigellus Black was precisely to mock his dear Headmaster.
The figure in front of him wasn’t just a mindless phantom; it contained memories Raven had copied directly from Phineas Nigellus Black’s portrait.
“Let’s see who we have here. Ha! Raven Nicholas Weasley? A Weasley?!”
Phineas Nigellus Black—or Birdman Black—read the challenger’s information from the trial data.
He then addressed Raven in a thoroughly arrogant tone.
“A second-year Hufflepuff? Goodness, a Weasley sorting into Hufflepuff? Does the Weasley family actually produce such trash?”
“That fellow copied my thought-projection and kept it sealed here for a hundred years! This is the first time I’ve ever seen anyone enter. Your ancestor Black is furious right now, Weasley! Get up here and draw your wand. The trial consists of a magic duel against me. As your elder from your great-great-great-grandfather’s generation, I shall allow you to strike first. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you—at most, you’ll just be stuck in bed for a week, unable to move.”
Listening to Birdman Black’s boastful taunts, Raven merely smirked without saying a word.
If Black recognized his true identity, wouldn’t half the fun be ruined?
So he silently walked up to the right side of the duel platform.
Seeing Raven’s smile, Birdman Black seemed to recall an unpleasant memory and hurled another threat.
“Wipe that ugly grin off your face! I’ve changed my mind! Headmaster Black is going to keep you in the hospital wing for a whole month!”
Raven didn’t respond to Birdman Black’s bluster.
He simply reached into his robes and drew a second wand.
The wand made of the Philosopher’s Stone—Misty Dust.
The first impression this wand gave was not one of elegance. Read this novel at novelping.com for the best experience.
Its granite-like stone surface was speckled with pale golden points of light, resembling a night sky full of stars.
Its sheer texture gave off a heavy, dense feeling.
And why didn’t it look like a wand?
Because it was as thick as two fingers combined.
Coupled with its ten-inch length…
If it were sturdy enough, even a Muggle knight in full plate armor probably couldn’t withstand a single hit from this…
hammer—err, stick.
Birdman Black had never seen a wand like this before, but that didn’t stop him from sensing the surges of powerful magic radiating from it.
With a slightly grave expression, Black bowed slightly to offer a dueling salute, and Raven raised his wand to return the gesture.
Whether as an elder, a former Headmaster, a Slytherin, or a pure-blood wizard, he couldn’t afford to lose his grace in front of a junior.
“[Expelliarmus]!”
Black, on the left, cast a crimson Disarming Charm.
At the same time, Raven, standing on the right, chose a spell that was relatively easy to swing, given the weight of his wand.
“[Avada Kedavra]!”
Drawing a lightning bolt downward took the least effort!
A green beam of magic as thick as a water bucket erupted from the stone wand.
Raven could feel the core of the wand—made from powdered Philosopher’s Stone—resonating with the Philosopher’s Stone components inside his own body.
Without the slightest delay, it drew magic directly from inside his body, violently pouring it into the wand shaft made of Misty Dust, continuously feeding the spell that had already taken shape.
At that moment, Raven felt immensely glad he had chosen to use this wand.
If he had used the Prismatic Wand, the surging torrent of magic likely would have burned it to ashes long ago—much like the projection of Black across from him, which was currently being blasted apart by the magical stream.
Birdman Black vanished with a look of utter horror on his face.
Honestly, he was just a projection, an object.
Of course the Killing Curse wasn’t going to actually kill him in the real world—it just destroyed the construct.
As for his current body, Raven only knew it possessed a massive reservoir of magic, but ever since he was incarnated into flesh, he had never had the chance to unleash his full power.
After this quick demonstration, Raven roughly calculated that his total magic capacity was already comparable to Albus Dumbledore’s.
It made sense, though.
More than half of Nicolas Flamel’s Philosopher’s Stone had ended up in Raven’s stomach.
The Flamels had used the stone together to live for over six hundred years, and Old Nicolas had used it for countless experiments in between.
Yet in the end, they hadn’t consumed as much of it as Raven had.
Thinking about it that way, Raven felt his magic capacity was quite reasonable.
Equivalent exchange, after all.