24: Chapter 23: Magic Even Voldemort Has Never Seen?
24: Chapter 23: Magic Even Voldemort Has Never Seen?
“Really, Professor Quirrell?
I knew you were my kind of person.” Thorne’s eyes lit up.
He immediately stepped forward and shook Quirrell’s hand with enthusiasm.
“But there’s one thing in what you just said that needs correcting.” Quirrell’s weak, timid smile froze for a moment.
Thorne took a small glass bottle from his pocket.
Inside was a faintly glowing liquid.
“Soul.” His tone was serious.
“This is a substance I extracted through special means, used to sustain life.” He shook the bottle.
“Of course, if you use a bone nail I’ve made as a tool, you can also extract soul from living beings.” “But one thing is certain — soul can only be produced by living beings.” “W-Wait…” Quirrell stammered.
“P-Professor Thorne, I-I wanted to ask… why… only you can extract this substance?” Thorne raised an eyebrow.
“Well…” He thought for a moment.
“I’m not entirely sure myself.
Maybe it has to do with physique.” Quirrell’s expression immediately showed sudden understanding.
“Oh… s-so you’re saying it’s a talent?” “It’s alright, I guess.” Thorne tried to sound modest.
“It’s really only useful when extracting soul.” He quickly steered the conversation back.
“As for those deceased magic masters you mentioned earlier, they probably no longer possess souls.” “But in this world, another form of ‘residue’ still exists.” He turned slightly and pointed into the distance.
“For example — ghosts.” Right at that moment, a massive figure slowly floated past.
The Hufflepuff ghost, the Fat Friar.
In Thorne’s eyes, he was an abnormally large “worm” with a kindly smile on his face.
As he passed, he even waved at Thorne.
Thorne politely nodded back, then turned again to Quirrell, who had fallen into thought.
“They exist in this world not because of soul, but because of dreams.” “Dreams contain a vast amount of the emotions and thoughts they had while alive.” “Generally speaking, when a person… uh, bug — no, human — possesses an extremely strong obsession, they will turn into a dream after death and linger in this world.” “I believe these ghosts are the same.” Quirrell listened intently, blinked, and asked cautiously: “T-Then, Professor Thorne… is it possible that some dreams left behind in this world… c-can also produce soul?” The moment Thorne heard this, his entire body lit up with excitement.
He narrowed his eyes and licked his lips with visible enthusiasm.
“You — know of such an existence?” “Where?!” Quirrell was startled by the sudden change in his demeanor.
“W-What’s wrong?” Thorne took a deep breath, speaking noticeably faster.
“What you’re describing is extremely rare.” “Only warriors who were extraordinarily powerful in life can form a special kind of dream existence —” “A Warrior’s Dream.” His tone carried undisguised fervor.
“This kind of existence produces something called ‘Dream Essence.’ That’s an excellent material for nourishing a Dream Nail!” “D-Dream… Nail?” Quirrell unconsciously repeated the name.
“How should I put it.” Thorne thought for a moment, tone casual yet undeniably serious.
“It’s quite an incredible treasure.
It can cut through the barrier between dream and reality, allow you to peer into others’ dreams, and even move while ignoring spatial restrictions.
I suspect it could even be used in places where Apparition is forbidden.” He paused, then added, “As far as I know, it was most likely crafted by the moth tribe.” “Anyway, that’s not important.” Thorne changed the subject.
“You just said you’ve seen a Warrior’s Dream.
Where?” Quirrell, who had already been somewhat stunned by the earlier explanation, calmed down a little after hearing “moth.” “Uh… I-I actually haven’t seen one.” He gave a dry laugh and waved his hands.
“I-I was just asking casually, haha.” After a pause, Quirrell asked as if it were an afterthought: “T-Then… Professor Thorne, do you possess this so-called Dream Nail?” The light in Thorne’s eyes dimmed for an instant.
He shook his head.
“I used to.
But I lost it later due to certain circumstances.” As for whether he could get another one — for example, if the system was in a good mood and gave it as a reward — that was hard to say.
After all, the final reward for completing a single special environment was a Warrior’s Dream.
It wasn’t impossible that a Dream Nail might come along with it.
Thorne thought this to himself, but his expression quickly brightened again.
“But it’s fine.” He suddenly grew excited once more.
“I think this kind of situation definitely exists.” “How about this — shall we collaborate?” Quirrell blinked.
“Collaborate?” “Yeah.” Thorne grew more animated the more he spoke.
“We can start a research project on dreams, and at the same time extend it into the direction of soul extraction and injection.” “In other words, those discarded proposals I originally wrote into the lesson plan but that got rejected.” He lowered his voice and showed a meaningful smile.
“That way, since we won’t be in the same research group as Professor McGonagall, she won’t be able to control us.” The moment this thought appeared, Thorne himself felt thrilled.
However, the next second he glanced at the time.
“Shit, almost late.” “If I go any later, Madam Pomfrey might have already gone to dinner.” “I’ll head off first.” Thorne turned to leave, but Quirrell’s slightly hesitant voice suddenly came from behind.
“O-Oh, right, Professor Thorne.” “Um… about the soul…” Thorne turned back with a smile, took the small glass bottle of liquid soul from his pocket, and handed it straight to Quirrell.
“It’s yours.” “I’ve still got dozens of jars on my end.
It’s fine.” Quirrell accepted it with both hands.
His gaze was almost glued to the faintly glowing liquid inside.
His breathing unconsciously slowed.
“Hmm…” “S-So this is… the soul that could replace existing medical magic…?” Quirrell was so focused that he didn’t notice Thorne had already muttered under his breath: “Running a bit late… whatever, this works too.” Before the words finished, he had already dashed to the spiral staircase.
The next moment.
Thorne suddenly leaped into the air!
Mid-flight, his figure paused for an instant.
Then, under Quirrell’s horrified gaze, Thorne transformed directly into a blinding streak of white light and dove straight down through the gap in the center of the spiral staircase!
Boom!
A dull, heavy impact echoed from below.
Quirrell stood frozen in place for a long moment before coming back to his senses.
He quickly stepped to the railing and looked down.
Below, Thorne’s figure had already disappeared.
All that remained was a scattering of shattered bricks and a small crater in the center of the floor, its edges still glowing with faint traces of white light.
“T-This… is this the true power of soul magic?” Quirrell murmured to himself.
He didn’t even realize that his voice had stopped stuttering.
His tone now held only pure shock and fanaticism.
But at that moment.
A low, cold voice suddenly sounded behind his head.
“Idiot.” Quirrell’s entire body jerked.
His legs went weak almost instinctively, and he nearly collapsed to his knees on the spot.
He gripped the railing tightly with both hands.
Cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead.
His voice trembled uncontrollably.
“M-Master…” The voice spoke again, carrying unmistakable gloom and suspicion.
“Power… is not important.” “That Thorne… just now, he directly disappeared from this world.” After a brief silence, the voice carried a trace of undisguised shock for the first time.
“Incredible… to think there exists magic capable of producing such an effect.” Quirrell’s pupils shrank sharply.
Even the master… had never seen it?
And right after that, the voice lowered, making a decision.
“A talent like this—” “Either he works for me.” “Or…” “He must be eliminated as soon as possible.”