“It is already 6 AM, and we truly do not have much time left.”
Elara, however, refused to leave just yet; she could hardly wait.
“In any case, let us continue our transaction.
I can tell you directly that Peter Pettigrew is hiding with The Weasley Family, living as a child’s pet.
Their youngest son, Ron Weasley, is starting school this year, so he should be his pet now.”
Sirius silently noted this information.
“So that is where he is…
He certainly knows how to hide, Peter Pettigrew.
You are truly terrified of death, aren’t you?
You still cannot let go of your master?” Clearly, Sirius had also guessed Peter Pettigrew’s intentions.
“According to our agreement, I still need to provide you with some insights on the Animagus transformation.”
“Give me the specific method first; the insights can be provided when we meet again in the future.”
“Very well.”
“Also, if you want this wand, that will count as a transaction as well.
You will need to provide magical items from the House of Black worth 1,000 Galleons in exchange.”
This was an extremely unfavorable deal.
Elara felt as if she could hear some ancestors of the House of Black cursing in anger.
“Very well.” Now, Black only desired revenge; his hatred for Lord Voldemort had grown even greater.
“Then I will also provide a piece of information—your godson, Harry Potter, is also going to attend Hogwarts this year.”
“Thank you.”
Amidst the great joy and sorrow, Kreacher, who had become much quieter, silently provided food for Sirius.
This master and servant did not have much interaction.
Elara requested a spell practice room and indicated that if she had not emerged by 12 o’clock, he should leave on his own.
As for her, she was a Dementor, and she was not wanted by the authorities.
She stayed alone in the spell practice room of the House of Black.
The surroundings were reinforced with magical inscriptions that could dissipate the effects of spell practice.
She could not help but marvel at the foundation of such an old, established family; they were truly resilient, like a centipede that refuses to fall even in death.
A portrait covered by a cloth that had previously hung on the wall had also been removed at Elara’s request.
Elara locked the door from the inside.
It was not because she was afraid of anyone barging in, but because she did not want anyone to see what might happen next, and she was not sure what she would end up with.
What if she failed?
To plan a spell far beyond her level with a mortal’s mind.
It was practically like a backyard scientist trying to build a rocket all by themselves.
She opened the panel, and then the shop.
She found the 9th-level spell “Shapechange”.
The basic transcription cost 50,000 GP, and the premium version that guaranteed mastery cost 250,000 GP.
She did not have that much time left.
She purchased the transcription materials, and a spellbook appeared before her.
It was written in an unknown script, but Elara understood its meaning immediately.
“Shapechange”—just looking at it made Elara feel a bit dizzy.
Requires Caster Level 9.
You can assume the form of any non-unique creature, of any size, with Hit Dice not exceeding your caster level (maximum 25), and can become incorporeal or gaseous.
Upon transformation, you gain all extraordinary and supernatural abilities of that creature; your original supernatural abilities disappear, and your creature type is replaced by the new form.
You can switch forms once per round as a swift action, and your actions are not interrupted before or after the transformation.
Equipment melds into your body, transformation does not cause confusion, and you gain a +10 bonus to Disguise checks.
In other words, after transforming, one possesses the instincts of that creature.
This thing was probably something only Dumbledore would be qualified to research.
“But the situation was better than she had imagined.”
She had thought she would not even have enough money to buy this spell.
Now, she could still afford two Wish spellcasting services.
She wrote her thoughts directly on paper with a pen to avoid making mistakes.
This might be her only chance.
Wish—the most powerful spell a mortal can master, yet it also has its limits, which are also the limits of mortals.
Once a certain limit is exceeded, your Wish will be implemented literally, but it will not be the result you expected at all, or only a part of it will be realized.
And these two spellcasting services perhaps came from a being of extremely high stature, so this was likely her only chance.
Every time, she was gambling.
But this time was different.
This time, the gamble was…
whether she could ever be human again.
Perhaps it was her only chance; otherwise, she would only die as a Dementor.
She remembered many things.
She remembered when she first transmigrated, touching the hollow space on her face, her fingers passing directly into her cranial cavity, finding nothing—no eyeballs, no nose, no lips, only a hole that forever leaked a cold, chilling aura.
She remembered when she first fed, absorbing a prisoner’s happy memories.
That feeling was like drinking the first sip of water in a desert, but it was only enough to moisten her lips, followed by an endless, burning hunger.
She remembered when she sifted through a prisoner’s memories and saw a witch recalling her graduation day—friendship, family, ideals, everything.
Elara stared at that image for a long time, then realized she could no longer remember what color sunlight was.
After being a Dementor for so long, even the word “warmth” had become an abstract concept.
Her fingers were trembling.
Not because of cold—Dementors do not feel cold.
But because of fear.
Afraid that if the Wish failed, she would not even be able to keep this ugly shell she currently had.
Afraid that if it succeeded, but the person who emerged was not her, but a stranger.
Afraid that if she was actually no longer human, even if she turned back, it would just be self-deception.
“Enough.”
She said to herself in her heart.
Could it be any worse than it is now?
She pressed purchase.
[Wish spellcasting service × 2, pay 20,000 GP, confirm?]
[Yes]
She would rather believe that she was currently favored by the gods, even if just for this moment.
She took a deep breath—although Dementors do not need to breathe, this action made her feel like she was still a person—and then began the first Wish.
First Wish:
Downgrade the “Shapechange” spell before her to a 7th-level Transmutation spell, and permanently modify its effects:
Only allow the user to transform into a single, fixed human image, appearing 18 years old;
Possess normal human wizarding talent, able to learn and use wands and magic;
Cannot transform into other creatures, do not gain other additional abilities;
Form switching is a free action, can be maintained normally, requires no concentration, and no continuous casting.
She did not ask for more; she did not even specify a gender.
As her words increased, she gradually felt the strain.
A strong sense of threat surged into her heart—this was a miracle, but how could a mortal ask for too many miracles?
Yet she dared not slow down her words.
The second after her words ended, the dust in the spell practice room suddenly stopped.
Not stopped by the wind, but time had paused.
Then, the Shapechange spellbook flew out from her arms on its own, hovering in mid-air, its pages flipping frantically, as if being quickly graded by an invisible hand.
A golden symbol appeared out of thin air, spun around in the air, and then branded itself onto the cover of the book like a seal.
The title of the book changed.
From “Shapechange” to—
“Mystra’s Human Transformation”
The light faded, and the book fell back into her hands.
She looked down at the cover, her fingers tracing the gold-stamped characters.
The first Wish had been realized.
But she had no time to reflect.
There were at most two hours until dawn.
People from the Ministry of Magic could pursue her at any moment.
She used the panel to identify it; it was basically the same as what she had wished for, though the image was fixed.
The specific effects could only be known by trying it herself.
The information given by the panel was too brief; she could only determine it was a 7th-level spell.
It seemed most of her requirements had been met.
She could not wait any longer; time waits for no one.
She wished again, this time even simpler, more urgent, and no longer cautious.
Perhaps she could just Wish for a new body directly, instead of being so cautious and tentative.
Perhaps she should change the Wish now, otherwise that spellcasting service would be gone, and she would have to study the next Wish spell on her own.
“Let it be; wishes have limits.”
She admonished herself.
She would continue with the original plan.
Second Wish:
Let me, without any class or spell slots,
Directly and permanently master the aforementioned rewritten 7th-level spell “Mystra’s Human Transformation”;
Without verbal, somatic, or material components, able to switch with a single thought,
And default to a permanent human form until she actively dispels it.
A faint light shone again, very light, very gentle, like a thin veil covering her body.
No knowledge flooded into her mind, no power exploded, only a feeling of inevitability descended.
She suddenly understood.
She understood how to switch, how to fix it, and how to wrap herself in a layer of human skin.
She also instinctively began to cast the spell.
The next instant, the shadows retracted, condensed, and took shape.
Pale skin, a quiet figure, body temperature returning to the normal range bit by bit.
The cold, chilling aura was forcibly suppressed to the deepest level, leaving only a trace of coolness that was hard to detect.
Human form, permanent, stable.
She looked down at her hands—unfamiliar, yet incredibly real.
There was no earth-shattering light, no divine pronouncement, no prompts of any kind.
To her, everything was just two simple wishes, exchanging for a human skin that allowed her to walk into normal society.
No matter where this power came from, no matter where her suffering originated.
She only knew:
From today on, she could be a human.