[Ding!] [When the host enters a location with deep history, the exploration function activates.] [This function grants rewards based on the host’s exploration progress at the site.] [At 30% exploration: Soul Vessel Fragment ×1] [At 60% exploration: Spell Fragment ×1] [At 100% exploration: Warrior’s Dream] [Soul Vessel Fragment: Collect two to increase soul capacity by 1.] [Spell Fragment: Collect four to strengthen one spell.] [Warrior’s Dream: The lingering ghost of a powerful warrior.
Its exact benefits cannot be known until obtained.] …
The description felt painfully familiar.
If an ordinary person got dropped into the depths of Hallownest with zero preparation and no outside help, it was basically a death sentence.
That place was so dangerous even the Pale King had to seal it himself.
Yet here Thorne sat, safe and sound, calmly talking with an old bee.
All of it came down to the system glowing in front of him.
Almost on instinct, he pulled up the status panel.
[Name: Eric Thorne] [Race: Human / Bound Vessel] [Weapon: None] [Mask: Bound] [Charms: Bound] [Spell List: Three White Spells (Howling Wraith, Vengeful Spirit, Desolate Dive)] [Soul Capacity: 1/1] [Items: None] [Property: None] [Special Locations Unlocked: 23] [Current Special Location: St.
Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries (0.3%)] …
Screen full of “None.” Every important slot marked “Bound.” Thorne felt strangely calm.
The original owner’s life had been such a disaster that it almost made giving up feel reasonable.
“Mr.
Thorne?
Are you all right?” The old bee’s voice pulled him back.
“Uh—yeah.
I’m fine.” Thorne blinked, smoothed his expression, and managed something close to a normal smile.
This was good, he told himself.
At least he had the system.
Whatever happened next, it had to be better than getting kicked out of that shitty apartment with nothing.
He let out a long breath.
When he looked up again, a faint, genuine smile had settled on his face.
His whole posture had changed.
“Could we talk about a few more things?” His voice was steady now.
“For example… the Ministry of Magic.
Or you.” The old bee’s many compound eyes narrowed slightly, studying the sudden shift in Thorne’s attitude.
After a moment, he gave a small, knowing smile.
“Of course.” As the bee spoke in his unhurried way, scattered names and facts clicked into place in Thorne’s mind.
Dumbledore… Thorne silently repeated the name.
He was almost certain now.
He had landed inside another story.
Harry Potter.
He couldn’t even blame himself for not realizing it sooner.
Wizengamot.
Azkaban.
Who would immediately connect those words to Hogwarts?
If the guy had just said “Hogwarts” at the start, everything would have been obvious.
Besides, this world’s setting was almost completely new to him.
He’d only ever seen one movie.
The one thing that stuck with him was how dark it was.
Even Dumbledore had just been a name he half-remembered—until the guy fell off a tower and died at the end.
…Huh.
So wizards could die from falling.
Guess his power level wasn’t that high after all.
“All right, that covers the basics.” Dumbledore set his teacup down and smiled at Thorne.
“So, Mr.
Thorne, is there anything else you’d like to know?” Thorne’s eyes flicked to the cup.
Six sugar cubes sat at the bottom.
He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
That wasn’t “sweet.” That was a lethal dose.
Typical bee.
He looked away quickly before it ruined his concentration.
“Actually… yeah.
One more thing.” He kept his voice even.
“Mr.
Delis mentioned Azkaban earlier.
What is that place?
Another magic school?” Dumbledore choked on his tea.
He gave Thorne a very strange look, then shook his head.
“No.
Azkaban is not a school.” “It’s a prison.
A prison built specifically for wizards.” “Oh.
A prison…” Thorne tilted his head.
“Is there a difference?” Dumbledore looked like he wanted to leave immediately, but he kept his tone calm and serious.
“Mr.
Thorne, given your current situation… there is a real possibility you could be sent there.” Thorne’s eyes narrowed.
No.
If he couldn’t move freely, the exploration system was useless.
He would lose his last advantage.
He couldn’t let the snail take him.
The snail was still waiting right outside the door.
And Thorne only had enough soul for one spell.
Simple plan, then.
One spell for the snail.
Handle the other with his body.
He started gathering soul magic.
Dumbledore suddenly coughed.
“Ahem… these old bones of mine won’t survive another blast like the last one.” Thorne looked up and met the bee’s gaze for a brief second.
Then he let the magic go and sank back against the pillows.
“Sorry about that.” Dumbledore’s smile stayed gentle.
“It’s all right.” “As long as you’ve given up on blowing me through the ceiling, Mr.
Thorne.” “Your magic is… quite unusual.” Thorne’s stomach dropped.
He’d been seen through.
If Dumbledore had already noticed the preparation and could still speak so calmly, then the old bee was far more dangerous than he looked.
Thorne abandoned any thought of fighting.
Fine.
He’d just go to prison like a good boy.
Figure out how to break out later.
Maybe he should tattoo a map of the place on his skin first?
While Thorne was busy “lying flat,” Dumbledore watched him with open fascination, compound eyes bright with excitement.
“Fascinating…” “I’ve never seen magic like this before.” “So pure.
So stable.” He leaned forward slightly, the way someone might study an extremely valuable specimen.
“More importantly, when they pulled you out of the rubble, the white light coming off your body was actively repairing your injuries.” “I believe this is an entirely new system of magic.” “Very much worth studying.” He smiled and dropped the final line.
“So… would you like to be a teacher?” Thorne rubbed his temples.
“Sorry, Headmaster.
Setting aside the part where I’m supposed to go to prison—” He grew more serious.
“I need to be clear about something first.” “The things I did… they come from the fact that I’m not human.” Dumbledore’s expression froze.
A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes.
“…Not?” “Uh, that part’s not important.” Thorne waved a hand.
Compared to a bee, he figured he was still closer to human anyway.
“Point is, this is just something my body can do.
It’s not knowledge I can teach anyone else.” Even so, the look on Dumbledore’s face—the one that said “I am extremely interested in you”—didn’t fade.
If anything, it got stronger.
Thorne felt a chill run down his spine.
What the hell did this old man want?
“Enough!” The hospital room door slammed open.
“Dumbledore, this brat is not going anywhere with you!” Delis stormed in, cold eyes cutting straight to Thorne.
“Kid, you’re going to prison.” “Whether you knew the laws or not—you killed people.
That part doesn’t go away.” “Delis, hospitals have rules about shouting.” Another figure stepped into the room.
The moment Thorne saw him, an image flashed through his mind—those fat, oil-slicked noble bugs from the City of Tears.
This was a massive golden cockroach.
His shell shone with oil and power.
His antennae had been neatly trimmed into elegant curves.
Everything about him screamed authority.
Killing this one would probably be worth a lot of money.
“Minister?!” Delis’s face changed instantly.
“What are you doing here?” “Fudge.” Dumbledore’s voice stayed calm.
“It’s been a while.” “Yeah, it has, Dumbledore.” The golden cockroach snorted.
“And every time I see you, it’s never good news.” “But this time I’m cleaning up one of your messes, aren’t I?
All the Muggles have agreed not to press charges.
Saves everyone a lot of trouble.” “Besides, Mr.
Thorne has always been a Muggle.
He never showed any magical ability, so he didn’t actually break the Statute of Secrecy.” “You know how it works—Hogwarts handles the discovery of new wizards.
Handing him over to the school is the cleanest solution.
Oh, and the thing I asked for?” After a short silence, Fudge pulled a paper bag from his robes and tossed it to Dumbledore.
He walked further into the room, antennae twitching as his gaze swept over everyone and finally landed on Thorne, who was still sitting on the bed looking completely lost.
“You’ll get what you want.” Fudge waved an impatient antenna.
“You can take him.” Delis stepped forward immediately, voice sharp with disbelief.
“Minister, this man is a murderer!” “How can you let a killer teach at a school?
I won’t allow it!” “You will.” Fudge’s tone was flat.
“And right now, he’s no longer a murderer.” The words hit the room like a stone in still water.
Thorne stared.
So did Delis.
Dumbledore took a candy from the paper bag, popped it into his mouth, and smiled like he had expected this exact moment.
“A friend of mine sent over some… small gifts.” “Conveniently, they’re useful right now.” “Even someone who’s dying can still be pulled back, after all.” He handed the bag to Thorne, stood up, and straightened his sleeves.
Then he turned to the still-stunned young man on the bed, voice warm and natural.
“Well then.” “Professor Thorne.” “Please come with me.” “We’re going to Hogwarts.” “Wait—Headmaster.
I have one request.” Thorne suddenly spoke up.
“You know I’m a mental patient.
The hospital basically feels like home to me.” “So… could I visit my house first?”