Merpeople.
At least four of them.
Grindylows.
A massive swarm.
Their numbers were still growing.
Further down.
The most massive entity of all.
The Giant Squid.
It lurked in the deepest depths of the lakebed, entrenched among the silt and jagged rocks.
Every one of its tentacles was as long as a castle corridor, and every suction cup was as large as a washbasin.
Aaron’s Sensory Network had only brushed against the periphery of its vital signs from afar, but it already yielded a single piece of information: the magic contained within this Giant Squid was far denser than that of all the believers in his Divine Kingdom combined.
*If I could recruit it…*
Aaron stopped himself from pursuing that line of thought.
No rush.
He had to take things one step at a time.
Secure the near before reaching for the far; target the weak before challenging the strong.
Just as he was about to withdraw his perception, the waters outside the window suddenly shifted.
A merperson surged out of the gloom.
It moved at extreme speed, like a deep-water torpedo fired toward the surface.
Gray-green scales covered its lower half from the waist down into a fish’s tail.
Its upper half was a humanoid torso, but its facial features were worlds apart from human.
With a flat nose, sharp, jagged teeth, and yellow eyeballs, it radiated territorial hostility.
It lunged straight for the glass window.
*Thud.*
The glass didn’t budge in the slightest.
The magical runes of a reinforcing charm flared for a brief instant.
Pressed against the windowpane, the merperson’s face was less than two inches away from Aaron’s.
It bared its teeth, revealing three rows of serrated fangs, and let out a screech distorted by the water.
This was the standard intimidation tactic of the Black Lake merpeople.
Every year, newly admitted Slytherin students would get a scare during their first few days from the merpeople pressing themselves against the windows.
Most first-years’ reactions were to scream, take three steps back, draw the curtains, and write letters home saying that the Slytherin dorms were haunted by evil spirits.
Aaron didn’t back down.
He stood his ground, quietly locking eyes with the merperson through the glass.
His grayish-blue eyes stared into its yellow, slitted pupils.
The merperson’s screech grew louder, its mouth opening wider and wider until its sharp fangs practically brushed the outer surface of the glass.
Then, Aaron raised his right hand.
He extended his index finger and deliberately pressed it against the inner side of the glass.
The position of his fingertip precisely aligned with the spot between the merperson’s eyes.
He didn’t release his divine pressure.
He didn’t release anything at all.
He simply placed his index finger there.
Yet, the moment his fingertip touched the glass, the merperson stopped screeching.
Its mouth froze half-open.
Its yellow, slitted pupils abruptly contracted into thin needles.
It wasn’t out of fear. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
It was due to its instincts—a pure biological instinct written deep within its bloodline, transcending any level of intelligence, screaming a maximum-priority warning to its brain.
*Retreat.*
*Retreat.*
*Retreat immediately.*
*This is not prey.*
*This is not an intruder.*
*This is…*
The merperson never finished that thought.
Its body reacted faster than its brain.
With a violent flick of its tail, its entire body recoiled from the glass, shooting away three times faster than it had approached.
It clutched its head with both hands as if its brain had been scorched by something, rolling twice in the water before desperately fleeing toward the deeper, darker waters.
A few seconds later, tranquility returned outside the window.
Only a few stirred-up grains of silt slowly drifted back down.
Aaron withdrew his index finger.
He stood in the darkness for a moment.
The lake water outside was deep green and silent, resembling a colossal, unopened treasure vault.
“Through the glass…” he murmured.
“How boring.”
Turning around, he walked over to his bed and sat down.
No rush.
Rest tonight first.
Classes would start tomorrow; he would first map out the daily routines and patrol schedules of Hogwarts.
Once everyone became accustomed to his “nonexistence”…
…he would go into the water.
Aaron took off his school robes and lay down on the bed.
Outside the bed curtains, the green watery light drifted lazily across the ceiling, like a massive eye peering through the surface of the water to observe this quiet room.
He closed his eyes.
His consciousness descended into his Divine Kingdom.
The star-like signals of his believers flickered in every corner of the Divine Kingdom.
The Naga was coiled by the pool; sensing its master’s consciousness, it reared the upper half of its body and flicked its tongue in greeting.
On the steps of the altar, the Demiguise rolled over, its silvery-white fur rippling.
Two Fire Salamanders poked their heads out of the magma, puffing out small bursts of sparks in welcome.
All was well.
Aaron did one last thing before sleeping.
He pulled up the global map of his Divine Kingdom and plotted the distribution of the Black Lake creatures he had sensed tonight.
Merpeople colonies: Four to six individuals, distributed near the rocky caves on the western side of the lakebed.
Grindylows: Massive numbers, provisionally estimated in the hundreds, concentrated in the weed beds of the mid-level waters.
Water spirits: Scattered across various areas from shallow to mid-level depths.
Giant Squid: At the deepest part of the lakebed, a single entity.
These markings lit up on the map of the Divine Kingdom like a topographical chart of a hunting ground.
Aaron studied it for a moment, then closed the map.
He needed a way to move freely underwater.
Not a spell, and not a potion.
Those would leave magical traces that could be tracked by anyone looking closely.
He had over three hundred insect believers, including aquatic ones like water spiders and diving beetles.
Their talents were faint and virtually worthless on their own.
But Aaron’s talent-sharing function had a unique property.
Quantity breeds quality.
When enough talents of a similar kind were stacked and fused, they would evolve under the catalysis of the Godhead, giving birth to a brand-new, higher-tier ability.
The bubble storage of insects, combined with cutaneous respiration, plus the physiological adaptability of the Demiguise…
Aaron simulated the possibilities of this fusion in his mind.
Feasible.
But it had to be triggered within an actual underwater environment.
He rolled over and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow.
No, the day after.
Observe the school’s routine for one day first.
Then choose a late night.
The hunting map of the Black Lake remained suspended in his mind even after he closed his eyes, each marker as distinct as an incision line on a surgical table.
Precise, calm, and utterly confident.
Outside the window, the lake water flowed silently.
The fleeing merperson was violently shaking its head in the deep water, trying to rid itself of the searing sensation between its eyes.
It couldn’t be shaken off.
It wasn’t a burn.
It was a brand.
Through three inches of enchanted glass, an eleven-year-old boy had branded his own aura onto the soul of a Black Lake merperson without casting a single spell.
And this was only his very first night in the Slytherin dungeons.
…
Three days passed.
Aaron used these three days to accomplish a few things.
First, he mapped out all the class schedules and daily routines.
Breakfast at 7:30 AM, first class at 8:30 AM, lunch at 12:00 PM, classes resuming at 2:00 PM, and dinner at 6:00 PM.
After 9:00 PM, junior students had to return to their respective house common rooms.
Lights out at 11:00 PM.
Filch and his cat, Mrs.
Norris, patrolled at irregular intervals between 11:30 PM and 5:00 AM, with their primary area of activity concentrated above the third floor.
Second, he verified the nighttime conditions in the Slytherin dungeons.
After lights out at 11:00 PM, the vast majority of students fell asleep within half an hour.
The prefect, Flint, occasionally stayed up in the common room until 1:00 AM, but his attention was entirely consumed by a smuggled Quidditch tactics manual; he paid absolutely no heed to his surroundings.
Third, he used his Sensory Network to repeatedly scan the magical structure of the dormitory’s glass wall.
Three inches thick.
The base material was alchemically reinforced crystal.
The outer layer was coated with at least four layers of enchantments: an Unbreakable Charm, a water-repelling waterproofing charm, a temperature-regulation charm, and an ancient barrier that Aaron couldn’t identify.
It was highly likely a protection placed by Salazar Slytherin himself, one of the four founders when the school was built.
A thousand years of accumulated magic.
No conventional means could break this wall.
Physical demolition was useless, Reductor Curses were ineffective, and even Expelliarmus combined with strength multipliers would fail.
This was the result of a thousand years of continuous reinforcement by countless generations of wizards.
Aaron had no intention of breaking it.