“Sigh, the staff at Hogwarts really do lack manners.”
Lorin hung up his coat in the dressing room and slipped into a fresh set of loungewear.
“Two of them tried to scan me with Legilimency the moment they walked through the door.
Don’t the professors at Hogwarts know that prying into other people’s privacy so casually is an outright provocation?”
“And that Professor Snape.
Oh, Merlin, how has someone with such low social intelligence managed to live so comfortably until now?
That greasy hair is worse than the sloppiest house-elf at Beauxbatons…”
“And a caretaker who seemed terrified of me.
What a bizarre interview panel.”
“Fortunately, I passed.
I’ll just have to try and get along with my colleagues in the future…”
Lorin shook his head helplessly as he finished changing and stepped out of the dressing room.
Raynt, the butler, swiftly took Lorin’s discarded clothes and handed them to a maid for washing.
Walking all the way to the living room, a distance of over a hundred meters, Lorin continued to grumble about Hogwarts in his mind:
“That Professor McGonagall was actually a normal witch.
She was quite warm, too—a truly respectable magic professor.”
Although Lorin retained memories of his past life, he had inherited everything from the original Lorin after transmigrating.
Having lived as the heir to the Montmorency family for over a decade, it would be unrealistic to say he hadn’t learned any of the essential aristocratic arts.
The original Lorin was highly skilled in equestrianism, etiquette, fencing, ballroom dancing, and other compulsory noble subjects.
He was also fluent in English, French, German, and Latin, as well as the other common European languages.
Oh, and now there was Chinese.
Combined with his parents’ constant drilling over the past seven years and his seven years of schooling at Beauxbatons, a prestigious wizarding academy, he had inevitably been influenced by French etiquette and their prejudices against the British.
When he went to Hogwarts today, Lorin had actually set his prejudices aside.
In fact, Professor McGonagall’s appearance had briefly shattered the biases his parents had taught him.
But Albus Dumbledore’s offensive use of Legilimency, Severus Snape’s cold and rude manner, and Filch’s fear-driven interactions made Lorin feel incredibly uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong, my darling Lorin?”
Having heard of Lorin’s return from Raynt, Breya hurried out of her room, still wearing a Dior face mask.
“You look so sullen.
Did those Hogwarts wizards give you a hard time?”
“No, Mother.
I’m just a bit out of my element,” Lorin said, instantly shifting back to his elegant, composed self as he gently reassured her.
“Perhaps I just need time to adapt to British social norms and their way of speaking.”
“Well, if you ever feel wronged, you must tell us.
Worst comes to worst, you can just stay here with the Montmorency family.
There’s no need to take abuse from outsiders.”
Breya didn’t press further when she saw that Lorin was holding back.
She simply pulled Lorin into a gentle embrace, holding him just as she had when he was a little boy.
Unfortunately, Lorin was all grown up now, no longer a little child she could tease in her arms.
He leaned quietly against Breya, enjoying a rare moment of peace and tranquility that he seldom had time to experience…
*Buzz…*
*Buzz…*
A vibration from his soul echoed once more.
Lorin gently patted Breya’s hand.
“Mother, I’m going back to my room for a moment.”
“Alright.
You came back early today, little Lorin.
I’ll cook lunch for you in a bit.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you off to have a long chat on the phone with your darling Fleur?”
Seeing the teasing smile in Breya’s eyes, Lorin’s pale face flushed slightly, though he didn’t deny it.
“Yes.”
“If it’s convenient, you can invite her over during Easter or Christmas.”
“Okay, I’ll let her know.”
“Go on, look at your mirror.
Don’t keep her waiting.”
Breya giggled, pushing Lorin back into his room and shutting the door behind him.
“What are you up to, sweetheart?”
Fleur’s exquisite face, delicate as a porcelain doll, appeared in the mirror once more.
Every time Lorin saw her, he was struck anew by her beauty.
“My mother was right next to me just now.
Darling, you’ve gotten even more beautiful.”
“Oh, always flattering me.” Fleur’s eyes darted away, and she idly twirled a lock of her hair with her right hand, pretending to be nonchalant.
“It’s a sincere compliment.
By the way, sweetheart, my mother said she’d like to meet you during Easter.”
Considering he was supposed to spend Christmas with Fleur’s family, Lorin didn’t bring up that option.
“So soon?
Oh, Merlin, I’m not ready yet!” Fleur panicked, instinctively grabbing a lipstick to add some color to her bare face.
“We won’t meet until Easter.
Why are you so nervous?” Lorin looked at her with amusement, earning himself a playful glare.
“Besides, my mother is very easygoing.
Meeting her is as simple as saying ‘Merlin’s pants’ every day.”
“That’s different!
No, I have to prepare properly next term…”
“Oh, Merlin’s beard!
Gabrielle!
“Sorry, darling, you know how she is…”
“Haha, it’s fine, Fleur.
Shall we talk tonight?”
“Yes, see you tonight!
Gabrielle, get down from there!”
…
Lorin shook his head and ended the call through the Two-Way Mirror, though the smile on his face lingered, seemingly fixed there by Cupid himself.
“Let’s see what this worn-out book can show me besides ‘God’.
I hope it’s not another ridiculous joke.”
With nothing else to do, Lorin decided to study the dark red tome.
What if he could find a cure?
Retrieving the book from his engagement ring, Lorin raised an eyebrow in surprise at the neat, gold-embossed lettering on the cover.
“So formal?”
“God…”
“-dric…”
“This should be a suffix, not an independent word.
Judging by linguistic habits, it looks like a name favored by Germanic peoples…”
“Ruled by God…”
“Gryff…”
“Wait, no?!”
Lorin’s expression shifted dramatically.
He read the entire line of gold-embossed text aloud in one breath:
“Godric Gryffindor…”
“Godric Gryffindor?!”
“I take back what I said.
This book might not be some children’s prank after all…”
Lorin’s eyes burned with a manic intensity, contrasting sharply with his pale complexion.
“So, the first volume, *The Heavenly Scripture*, was written by Gryffindor.
According to him, this is a Knight’s Breathing Technique he created by combining the traits of ancient city-state knights, Vatican knights, and ancient wizards…”
“Aside from strengthening the physical constitution and surging one’s blood and vitality, it also seems to yield derivative techniques like Heavenly Battle Aura and the Sacred Vessel…”
“No matter what, I have to try training this!”
A flash of madness crossed Lorin’s eyes.
He no longer cared if this was a hoax.
After all, taking a wild gamble was better than a slow death!
Even though his magical power was immense, his physical body was far too weak.
If he went to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, Dumbledore wouldn’t even need to lift a finger—Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, could easily end him!
“Preparation ingredients: Blood willingly given by a unicorn, Thestral wings, giant’s blood…”
Looking at the series of highly difficult, dangerous, expensive, and obscure ingredients, Lorin let out a confident smile.
“Mother!”