The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 159 Boundaries and the Little Trumpet

Chapter 159 Boundaries and the Little Trumpet

Life and death are not enemies here, but rather intertwined and inseparable laws.

Lin Qi suddenly opened his eyes, his deep pupils reflecting the alluring red light, as if he had just awakened from an ancient dream.

He slowly exhaled, and the breath, as it left his lips, condensed into tiny ice crystals on one side, while the other side gave rise to a few shimmering phantom fungi that flickered in the air for a moment before vanishing.

He gradually understood.

The "immortality" granted by the Philosopher's Stone is not true eternal life, but rather a domineering way of forcefully nailing the law of "life" into the mortal body, forcibly delaying the inevitable "silence".

It does not eliminate death, but merely postpones that moment indefinitely, leaving users forever hovering on the threshold between life and death, never truly understanding or transcending it.

His gaze fell on the raven carving perched on a branch.

The lifeless wood came to life, as if it were a living thing, precisely because this powerful "life" was driven into it.

But it has no soul; beneath the “life” that sustains its activity lies a deeper, more magical foundation of “death.”

"I see—" Lin Qi murmured, his fingertips unconsciously brushing across the smooth surface of the magic stone. This time, he truly felt the intertwining of ice and fire, the coexistence of life and death.

"It wasn't about prolonging life, but rather—forcibly freezing that sea of ​​death..."

"This is why Nicolas Flamel and his wife needed to take the elixir of immortality continuously—to fight death, a continuous and costly magical battle."

What he touched was not the mystery of life, but the vague yet insurmountable boundary between life and death.

He stood before the threshold, glimpsing the intertwined truth of the twins within, but also becoming more acutely aware of the absoluteness and majesty of this boundary.

Life at Hogwarts was like a calmly flowing river, returning to a steady, uneventful rhythm.

The students' daily routine consists of attending classes, burying themselves in the library or common room to finish their assignments, and playing around during their rare free time.

But for Harry and Ron, another heavy and unpleasant task was added to their schedules: solitary confinement.

Ron's punishment seemed particularly "flavorful".

It seems that Mr. Filch, the caretaker, is really determined to carry out his threat to "clean every washroom in the castle."

Ron, carrying his worn-out mop and pungent-smelling cleaning bucket, had already visited every nook and cranny of the castle.

Various types of washrooms.

He "visited" and "deep-cleaned" every toilet, from the old, damp, moss-covered stone walls near the dungeon to the slightly cleaner toilets in the tower that occasionally received sunlight.

He often complained that he always seemed to have a strange smell, a mixture of mint deodorant and something worse, and he loathed Peeves's habit of suddenly appearing in the toilet he was cleaning and throwing water bombs at the freshly mopped floor.

Harry's situation wasn't much better.

He was frequently "recruited" by Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.

His confinement consisted of dealing with endless fan emails in Lockhart's office, which was filled with narcissistic portraits.

This work was extremely tedious and put Harry's patience and conscience to the test.

He was forced to write replies to Lockhart's admirers using all sorts of exaggerated and nauseating words, claiming how much Lockhart loved the gifts they sent—magnificent jewelry, beauty potions, love letters—or to sort through boxes of Lockhart's works waiting to be signed again and again, while being careful not to drip ink on those gleaming photographs.

Each time detention ended, Harry felt his eyes and soul were tormented.

Speaking of Lockhart, something strange happened.

He actually brought out a cage of chattering, sharp-toothed Cornish elves again during a class.

One is the kind of creature that makes him lose face and exposes his incompetence in the very first lesson.

The students immediately stirred, especially those who had experienced the disaster firsthand; their whispers were filled with incomprehension and anticipation of a slap in the face.

Ron even mouthed "He's in trouble" to Harry.

However, to everyone's surprise, Lockhart appeared unusually calm this time, even sporting a mysterious smile. Instead of drawing his wand, he calmly pulled a strangely shaped, glittering little gadget from the inner pocket of his velvet robe—the object had a red rubber sac that needed to be squeezed by hand, with a small, round flared opening at the back, making it look more like a comical Muggle toy.

Just as the sprites screamed and swarmed out, rushing towards the nearest student like green lightning, Lockhart took a deep breath and squeezed the rubber bladder hard!

"Bang!"

A loud, sharp, and even somewhat comical screech suddenly erupted, instantly drowning out the squeaking of the elves and the students' exclamations.

The sound was merely a bit noisy to humans, but it had an incredible effect on the berserk sprites. They were as if struck simultaneously by an invisible hammer, frozen in mid-air, their arrogant expressions instantly replaced by extreme pain and confusion. They covered their ears tightly with their little paws, emitting weak, painful groans, completely losing their aggression.

Then Lockhart rhythmically squeezed the airbag several more times.

"Bang! Bang bang!"

Upon hearing the piercing noise, the tormented little elves seemed to hear an irresistible command. Dizzy, stumbling, and even pushing each other, they fled back to the open cage as quickly as possible.

Lockhart darted forward and slammed the cage door shut with a crisp "click".

An eerie silence fell over the classroom.

Everyone stared in disbelief at the small golden trumpet Lockhart held in his hand, then at the group of trembling, clearly terrified elves in the cage, before finally fixing their gaze on Lockhart, who wore a smug smile.

What—what is this?

Lockhart elegantly tucked the still-smoking horn back into his pocket, a radiant smile of "everything is under control" on his face.

He looked around at the surprised students and cleared his throat.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, in the first lesson, I allowed these little sprites to create a little—well, a little—chaos." His voice was loud, with just the right amount of instruction. "Do you understand the huge difference between these two lessons and my good intentions?"