After finishing afternoon tea, Isolde finally had time to thoroughly argue with the system: “System, what on earth is Talent Resonance?”
“System, explain how to use the resonance.”
“Hey, playing dead, are you? Come out and make it clear!”
No matter how she shouted, urged, or even secretly complained in her heart, the depths of her consciousness remained utterly dead silent.
That cold electronic voice vanished without a trace, as if it had never appeared.
Isolde secretly gritted her teeth; she had never felt this aggrieved even when being workplace-PUA’d in her past life.
This system was simply the ceiling of absentee landlords; giving tasks without guides, giving talents without instructions, clearly intending to let her stumble through in the dark on her own.
Not even illegal underground labor was like this!
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to suppress the apprehension in her heart.
Fret over the system right now was useless; it was better to first grasp what was within her control right in front of her.
For example, the wand that would accompany her throughout her entire Hogwarts career.
Seeming to notice her daughter’s distraction, Mr. Winnier, who was polishing a wand, stopped what he was doing, his lightly calloused fingers gently tapping the table with a warm expression on his face.
“Isolde, my dear child, stop daydreaming. You know, the wand you sent for maintenance today can be brought back.”
Isolde’s attention was instantly pulled back, and her eyes lit up slightly.
A wand was a wizard’s second life, and even more so the core reliance for her to gain a foothold in this Wizarding World and complete her task.
Especially when facing the eldest daughter of the Black family, Bellatrix, who was proud to the extreme and only acknowledged the strong.
Talking big online was one thing, but in reality, who with a wand wouldn’t want to go to Hogwarts and have a duel with Bellatrix?
Mrs. Winnier smiled as she took out a dark brown oblong box from the oak cabinet in the living Room; the velvet-textured surface was soft and delicate, exuding a low-key luster.
She gently placed the box on the coffee table in front of Isolde.
“It has been delivered.”
Isolde put down her teacup, her fingertips trembling slightly as she stroked the velvet box lid.
She slowly lifted the lid.
An exquisitely proportioned wand lay quietly on the deep blue velvet lining, instantly capturing all her attention.
The wand body was crafted from cedar wood, with a warm, light creamy-white color and very faint amber grains.
The wand was eleven and three-quarters inches long, neither too long nor too short, perfectly fitting the arc of an eleven-year-old girl’s palm.
Holding it in her hand, it neither appeared clumsy nor too slender to lose a sense of power.
The wand body had a tiny, natural curvature rather than being completely straight.
“Cedar wood, eleven and three-quarters inches, dragon heartstring core.”
Mr. Winnier leaned over, his tone filled with ultimate familiarity and recognition of wand craftsmanship.
“The master of a cedar wand often has keen intuition, a firm will, and a powerful explosive force hidden beneath a gentle exterior, making it most suitable for clear-minded and goal-oriented wizards.”
“And the dragon heartstring can provide you with the most stable power support. Whether it’s basic charms, or the more difficult Defense Against the Dark Arts in the future, or even offensive curses, it can perfectly match.”
“My dear, this is a wand that is absolutely suited for you.”
Isolde gently raised the wand, her fingertips gripping the handle.
“Incendio!”
Waving the wand gently, she traced a faint light trace in the air that landed on the fireplace’s fire, causing the originally dancing flames to instantly leap higher by an inch.
Seeing this, her parents both showed pleasantly surprised smiles.
“That’s wonderful, Isolde!” Her mother excitedly grasped her hand, “Your magical talent is very stable, this wand completely acknowledges you!”
Isolde was stunned for a moment.
Hugging the wand, she made an excuse to return to her Room to organize school supplies, hurried upstairs, and went back to her bedroom.
The moment she closed the door, she immediately locked it and gently placed the wand on the bedside table.
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, closing her eyes tightly, she frantically called out to the system in her consciousness.
“System, stop playing dead! How do you use Talent Resonance? Give me a straight answer!”
“I chose Bellatrix, at least tell me whether this talent is useful for winning her over, right?”
“Hey! Mute? Weren’t you quite vocal before?”
Ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour passed.
The setting sun outside the window completely sank below the horizon, and twilight crept up the windowsill, dyeing the bedroom a faint purplish-gray.
…
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters…
Isolde pushed her heavy luggage trunk into the carriage, found an empty window seat and sat down, her fingertips still subconsciously stroking the wand in her pocket.
The slightly cool touch of the cedar wood made her settle down a little.
The train slowly started, and the wheels ground over the rails, emitting a rhythmic roar.
She casually found a place to sit down, and just as she wanted to close her eyes to sort out her thoughts, the compartment door was pushed open, and an arrogant and domineering aura hit her face.
The newcomer was none other than Rodolphus Lestrange, dressed in the precious attire of a Pure-blood family, yet his eyes carried undisguised bullying and contempt.
He swept his gaze across everyone in the compartment, finally landing on Isolde.
“What is your last name?”
Isolde: “Winnier.”
“Oh, this isn’t where you should sit.”
Rodolphus’s tone was nasty, and he reached out to push her luggage trunk.
“Go to another compartment.”
Isolde raised her eyes: “There are plenty of empty seats in the compartment. If you don’t like it, you can leave by yourself. There’s no need to be so rude to a newly enrolled freshman.”
“Also, what is your name?”
Rodolphus clearly didn’t expect that an inconspicuous little Pure-blood would dare to talk back to him in public.
His expression instantly sank, and he raised his hand to lash out.
“Rodolphus Lestrange!”
Before he could continue speaking, Isolde had a look of understanding.
According to years of experience reading novels and the like, she was being picked on by a future villain with a prominent family background.
But shouldn’t this be the treatment the protagonist gets?
Fine, she could guess the routine; presumably if she rebuked Rodolphus a couple of times, someone else would come over to talk.
After provoking a Lestrange, she probably wouldn’t have many peaceful days after school started.
However, so what?
Isolde really couldn’t stand Rodolphus.
He was also Bellatrix’s husband in the original plot; shouldn’t they be considered… love rivals now?
Thus, interrupting his casting: “Has this compartment been chartered by you? Bullying Young Master Lestrange?”
At this moment, a tall, cold, and glamorous figure slowly paused at the compartment door.
Bellatrix Black leaned against the door frame, watching Isolde with keen interest, her gray eyes flashing with a light of appreciation.
She walked in slowly, her gaze falling on Isolde, the corners of her lips curling into a playful smile.
“There aren’t many people who can make Rodolphus suffer a loss, my dear.”
Her voice was lazy yet carried a sense of oppression.
She gently raised her hand: “Tell me, what is your name?”
Black’s physical features were too distinct; Isolde guessed the identity of this peer girl almost without thinking.
She was probably her target to win over, Bellatrix Black.
Isolde met her gaze and calmly spoke:
“Isolde Winnier.”
As her words fell, Bellatrix’s extended hand suddenly stopped in mid-air.
The appreciation and interest on her face faded away instantly, as if doused by cold water.
Her gray eyes turned cold, she gave a slight nod, withdrew her hand, and there was not a trace of warmth left in her tone.
“Winnier…”
She softly repeated this unfamiliar last name, and the playfulness in her eyes completely disappeared.
Seeming to prove Isolde’s guess, Rodolphus loudly demanded: “Bellatrix, what do you mean by this?”
“No special meaning.”
The atmosphere inside the compartment suddenly dropped to freezing point.
Seeing this, Rodolphus proudly raised his chin, preparing to make trouble again.
Isolde gripped the wand in her pocket and thought of a few basic spells.
But Bellatrix suddenly raised her eyes, her gaze falling back onto Isolde.
This time, there was a hint of heart-palpitating inquiry in her eyes.
“Wait, on you…” She spoke slowly, her voice lowered to the extreme, “There is a very familiar scent of magic.”
Isolde’s heart tightened abruptly.
The next second, Bellatrix took a step forward, her fingertips almost touching her cuff.
[Beep——]
[Congratulations to the host for completing the first conversation with the target to win over, “Bellatrix Black”, and obtaining the reward…]