“Don’t turn around.” The moment Professor McGonagall uttered those three words, Arthur had already shielded half of Helen’s body with his own.
He didn’t have a wand, and he didn’t know magic, but there wasn’t the slightest hesitation in his movement.
Helen wanted to pull Lynn back, but Professor McGonagall raised her hand to stop her.
The private room fell dead silent.
The sounds of Diagon Alley from outside the window came through the glass, sounding very distant.
The tea cups on the table were still steaming, but the candlelight had dimmed.
Lynn sat in his original spot, motionless.
He stared at the copper mirror in the corner.
The dust on the mirror hadn’t decreased, but the image inside was becoming clearer.
An elderly woman stood behind him, wearing an old-fashioned robe, her hair neatly combed, her face very thin, as if she suffered from chronic sleep deprivation.
She didn’t attack.
She merely raised her hand and straightened her collar.
Lynn’s gaze paused.
He had seen this gesture before.
Whenever Helen was nervous, she would subconsciously adjust the edge of her apron or wipe fingers that weren’t dirty at all.
Bloodline sometimes preserved habits better than a portrait.
“Who is she?” Arthur’s voice was tight.
“Helen, do you know her?” Helen stared at the mirror, her face pale.
“I…
I’ve only seen her in old photos.
She might be Great-Grandmother.” “Might be?” Arthur grew even more tense.
“Does this kind of thing masquerade as relatives?” “In the wizarding world, that’s not the most ridiculous thing,” Lynn said.
Professor McGonagall didn’t turn around, pointing her wand at the mirror.
“Mr.
Grey, now is not the time for jokes.” “I’m not joking.” Lynn still stared at the mirror.
“Her movements repeat.
Straightening her collar, pausing, lowering her fingers.
About once every seven seconds.
She is not alive, nor does she look like a ghost.” Professor McGonagall’s brow furrowed even deeper.
“Are you sure?” “I’m not sure,” Lynn said.
“But compared to ‘Great-Grandmother suddenly resurrecting from a mirror,’ I’m more inclined to believe she is a moving letter.” This sentence stabilized Helen’s emotions slightly.
Arthur, however, did not relax.
“A moving letter is also very scary, son.” “Yes,” Lynn nodded.
“But at least letters usually don’t bite.” Professor McGonagall traced a short arc in the air with her wand, whispering a detection spell.
The light fell on the mirror, not bouncing off, nor triggering a counterattack, but spreading out like water.
Her expression didn’t improve.
“It’s not ordinary portrait magic, nor is it a residual ghost.” Hearing this, Lynn made a judgment in his mind.
An old Prince family experiment.
Allowing thoughts to remain in objects.
This was more personal than a portrait, more fragmented than a ghost, and more dangerous than a letter.
Because it could carry an obsession, or even lead someone astray.
The old woman in the mirror finally stopped repeating her movements.
She raised her head, as if she saw Lynn.
She spoke from within the mirror.
“If you can see me, it means the Prince bloodline has once again sent a child back to the wizarding world.” Helen’s shoulder trembled.
Arthur shielded her even closer.
Professor McGonagall’s wand remained raised.
Lynn said nothing.
He was observing.
The old woman’s lip movements and voice were slightly out of sync, indicating this wasn’t a complete consciousness communicating in real-time.
Her gaze didn’t truly follow people as they moved, but was locked onto a specific area in front of the mirror.
This afterimage would respond, but only in a limited way.
Like an old book whose pages could be turned, not a real person sitting across from you.
The old woman’s voice continued to ring out.
“Remember, what the family left you is not glory, but a mess that hasn’t been cleaned up.” Helen’s already red eyes froze completely.
Arthur was also stunned.
He probably expected an ancestral bequest to be “My child, I miss you so much,” but the opening line was “There’s a pit at home, watch your step.” Lynn, however, found it reasonable.
A witch who could cut off her descendants from the wizarding world for generations was obviously not someone who would waste emotion in a crucial bequest.
He leaned forward slightly.
“Madam, can you hear us speaking?” The old woman in the mirror paused for two seconds.
“If you ask who I am, I am Eileen Prince Grey.
If you ask what I left behind, the answer is a warning.
If you ask if you can trust the Princes, the answer is, not entirely.” Lynn narrowed his eyes.
Preset response.
She heard key terms, but it wasn’t a full conversation.
Professor McGonagall had clearly realized this as well.
“Mr.
Grey, don’t ask too much.
First confirm if this object is safe.” “Professor, safety doesn’t usually walk up to us on its own,” Lynn said.
“Since it has appeared, it means the trigger conditions have been met.
If we don’t ask now, we might not get another chance next time.” Professor McGonagall didn’t agree, but she didn’t stop him either.
She knew Lynn was right.
Many ancient magics weren’t textbook materials in libraries; miss a single trigger, and you might never find the entrance again.
Lynn looked at the mirror.
“What did the Prince family study back then?” The old woman’s face in the mirror seemed to grow a bit clearer.
“Allowing thoughts to remain in objects.
Allowing memories not to be taken away by death.
Allowing secrets to be passed down without relying on pen and paper.
At first, it was just the pride of the family’s scholars.” She paused.
“Later, someone wanted to leave behind pain, someone wanted to leave behind hatred, and someone wanted to leave themselves behind.” Arthur couldn’t help but swear in a low voice.
“This sounds like anything but a proper field of study.” Lynn gave his father a mental thumbs-up.
Indeed, highly improper.
In the Harry Potter universe, anything involving souls, memories, or thoughts lingering long-term was mostly unfriendly.
Portraits were relatively gentle, Pensieves leaned toward recording, ghosts were a post-death choice, while Horcruxes were the most extreme form of corruption.
Where the Prince family’s experiment fell was still hard to judge.
But the direction was already clear.
Mind, memory, obsession, objects.
These things aligned perfectly with the later stages of the Spectator pathway.
Very useful.
And very easy to get killed doing.
The old woman in the mirror continued: “I married an ordinary man not to escape magic, but to keep my children away from those speaking old things.
People die, but desires do not.
If a family stuffs its desires into objects, it will eventually be consumed by its own creations.” Helen lowered her head, her breathing ragged.
“So that’s why you didn’t let us touch magic…” The old woman didn’t look at her.
She only looked at Lynn.
“Child, if you inherit the key, do not be in a hurry to open every door.
Especially do not touch the black mirror.
It will use the answers you want to know most to trade away the things you shouldn’t lose.” Lynn lightly tapped the tabletop with his finger.
The answers he wanted to know most.
This phrase was too precise.
To others, temptation might be wealth, power, family, or revenge.
To Lynn, the answer itself was the temptation.
He wanted to know why the Spectator pathway appeared here, whether the source of magic could complete his pathway, and whether he was a transmigrator, a wizard, or some stranger anomaly.
If there was a mirror that could answer these questions, would he approach it?
Lynn gave his answer.
Yes.
But he would first find seventeen ways to observe it through a wall.
“Madam,” Lynn spoke.
“Can you tell us where the black mirror is?” Professor McGonagall immediately looked at him.
Helen also panicked.
“Lynn!” Lynn raised his hand, gesturing that he hadn’t lost control.
“Mom, I’m just confirming the location of the danger.
Knowing where the furnace is doesn’t mean I’ll stick my head in.” Arthur fell silent for a moment.
“Son, that analogy doesn’t make me feel better at all.” The old woman in the mirror didn’t answer the location.
She only repeated a sentence.
“Do not go near a speaking black mirror.” Lynn made a mental note of this.
Either she didn’t know, or this residual image was restricted from speaking.
“What about the relatives?” Lynn changed the question.
“Which of those claiming to be Prince relatives cannot be trusted?” The old woman’s expression changed for the first time.
Not with anger.
More like annoyance.
“All of them.” Arthur was nearly choked by this statement.
“How bad must this family’s social standing be?” Professor McGonagall didn’t laugh.
Instead, she grew more vigilant.
Because this kind of answer was abnormal.
If a deathbed remnant didn’t even name specific enemies and instead said none could be trusted, it meant the Prince family’s internal strife was likely so chaotic that friends and foes were indistinguishable.
Lynn asked, “Does that include people at Hogwarts?” The old woman in the mirror paused even longer.
Tiny bits of dust slid down the mirror’s surface.
“Hogwarts is safe, and it is also unsafe.
The castle will protect children, but it will also lead them to places they shouldn’t go.” Lynn understood.
To anyone else, this sounded cryptic.
To him, who knew the original story inside out, it was practically a spoiler.
The three-headed dog, the Chamber of Secrets, the Forbidden Forest, the Dementors, the Goblet of Fire, the prophecy orb, the Horcruxes.
Hogwarts did protect its students.
But it was indeed very good at delivering them to the brink of danger.
The old woman in the mirror suddenly raised her hand, pointing at Lynn.
“You see too much.” Lynn’s heart stirred.
This wasn’t a preset generic reply.
“What did you see?” “Quiet eyes, a heavy heart, and an onlooker’s perspective that a child shouldn’t have,” the old woman’s voice grew dry and raspy.
“The Prince family once thought that seeing through human hearts would allow them to control them.
Later, they realized that the clearer you see human hearts, the easier it is to miscalculate yourself into the equation.” Professor McGonagall’s grip on her wand tightened.
Helen looked at Lynn, worry mounting on her face.
But Lynn smiled.
“Madam, that makes a lot of sense.
But forbidding a Ravenclaw from asking questions usually only makes the questions more attractive.” The old woman in the mirror fell silent.
On her thin face, a look akin to helplessness appeared for the first time.
“Then at least learn Occlumency first.” Professor McGonagall’s expression shifted slightly.
This wasn’t something an ordinary first-year should encounter.
Occlumency was magic used to prevent others from peering into one’s mind, requiring extremely high aptitude, and was not suitable to be taught casually to young wizards.
But at this moment, Professor McGonagall didn’t immediately reject it.
Because the issues surrounding Lynn were no longer explainable by “an ordinary first-year being a bit clever.” Lynn nodded.
“I will remember.” The image of the old woman in the mirror began to fade.
The candlelight restored itself slightly, and the tea in the cups stopped shaking.
Helen hastily spoke: “Wait!
Why did you leave back then?
Did you have any regrets?” The old woman looked at her.
This time, she seemed to truly see Helen.
“A child who survives doesn’t need to carry the regrets of the dead.” Helen froze.
Arthur took her hand.
The mirror dimmed once more.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, casting several sealing charms in succession.
Dust covered the surface of the copper mirror again, making it look as though nothing had happened.
But Lynn didn’t look away.
Because in the final instant, the old woman in the mirror had suddenly looked at the empty space behind him.
Her lips moved.
Her voice was very soft, but clear enough for him to hear.
“Don’t let that Malfoy child bring the snake into the school.” Lynn’s brow finally furrowed.
Professor McGonagall looked at him sharply.
“Mr.
Grey, what did she say at the end?” Lynn fell silent for two seconds, then looked up at Professor McGonagall.
“Professor, are Hogwarts first-years allowed to bring snakes as pets?”