In the Great Hall, the textbooks Harry and Ron ordered arrived at school.
Harry used Diffindo to swap the book cover of the new book with the Half-Blood Prince's old book, then returned the new book as if it were old.
Aiden also returned from the Slytherin common room and came to the hall to begin writing to the Director of the Department of Mysteries, composing a letter with the key points of the personal terminal and his improvement suggestions.
"Aiden, come with me," Hermione said, coming to the Ravenclaw table and grabbing Aiden, dragging him to Gryffindor.
"What's wrong?" Aiden asked, puzzled, as Hermione inserted him between Harry and Ron.
"Look at them. They found an old book at school and treat it like gospel. I'm very worried this is another Riddle diary incident, but I've cast detection spells on the old book many times with no effect."
Hermione's worry for her two best friends was palpable. Aiden could sense it without using his abilities.
Aiden took Harry's Potions textbook, opened it to look, and a smile curved his lips.
"So, have you talked to this thing?" Aiden asked, holding up the textbook.
"No," all three said in unison.
"Then that's fine. Something without consciousness—why treat it as a magical item? Besides, there's no magical fluctuation on it."
Aiden cast a spell to tear the entire book into pieces, then used a Repairing Charm to restore it.
"See," Aiden said, handing the book back. Harry quickly tucked the book into his chest.
"So if you're curious about this book, why not try finding its owner?" Aiden asked.
"We tried. We contacted many former students trying to find this girl..."
Hermione waved her hand, then supported her forehead with her hand, elbow on the table.
"Wait, how exactly did you connect the Half-Blood Prince to a girl?" Aiden asked, his eyes widening.
"The handwriting! Look at how delicate the writing is, and the annotations about potions are so careful and detailed. Must be a very refined older student."
Hermione was immersed in her own theory, but Aiden could barely contain his amusement.
Fortunately, the Visionary pathway always controlled emotions well. His face showed no abnormality.
"Yes, anyway, good luck to you all," Aiden said, tipping his hat.
Leaving the hall, a figure appeared urgently behind him. The platinum-haired wizard in formal robes revealed the visitor's identity.
"Quick, where is it?" The Director caught his breath and directly grabbed Aiden.
Aiden extended his staff, tapped the ground, and brought the Director into Avalon.
"Production is limited. We can produce about three hundred per day."
Aiden pointed to a water pump of unusual design at Avalon's boundary. Beside it were many 'Aidens' emitting silver threads.
As the water pump extracted discarded thought fragments from the sea of consciousness, silver threads combined with thought fragments to form black spheres.
"So this is the personal terminal you mentioned?" The Director picked up a sphere and examined it.
"I performed external implantation on Mr. Malfoy and mental implantation on Mr. Filch. Using them as experimental control groups, I found both implantation methods didn't affect terminal function usage."
Aiden tossed the sphere to the Director. Filch beside them cooperatively removed his hat for the Director to see.
"Will it cause any damage to the sea of consciousness?" The Director's expression was grave.
"Would you retrieve thought fragments you've discarded yourself? If necessary, human mental power combined with memory will generate new fragments. Moreover, with so many people in the world, how many useless thoughts are produced daily?" Aiden said, pointing at the boundless ocean before them.
"That's good. Leave the rollout to the Department of Mysteries?" The Director shamelessly extended his hand.
"You're dreaming. Just because the Department of Mysteries has worked hard, I'm giving you a heads-up. I'll hand terminal distribution to Arthursi. She needs an official identity too. Can't have her always stay in Diagon Alley."
Aiden stroked his chin, happily making the decision.
"Tch, choosing romance over friendship," the Director muttered.
"Hmm," the dragon said, narrowing his eyes.
"Don't worry, we'll cooperate. Speaking of which, once terminals spread, that's essentially a magical internet. Is it really okay to keep Folly in your server?" The Director glanced at the purple core wrapped in alchemical matrices in the distance.
"He'll never wake again."
Aiden smiled. At this moment, Folly within the core was trapped in an endless maze of nested dreams.
Having lost all sense of self and acting purely on instinct, Folly destroyed everything in the dream.
But whenever He destroyed a dream completely, He would fall into a new dream, repeating the cycle eternally.
The Director glanced at it once and was almost drawn into the dream. Fortunately, Aiden reached out and steadied him just in time.
"What is that..." The Director said, covering his left eye.
"A labyrinth made of dreams. I discovered Folly's weakness and used the labyrinth to trap Him," Aiden said, adjusting his monocle.
"Even beings like this have weaknesses? Wait, how can something existing as a concept have weaknesses?"
Everything the Director thought he knew was being turned upside down.
It was like someone suddenly telling you the sky isn't blue—it's just painted that way.
"Existence means having weaknesses. This is the fundamental law of all things. If He were an absolutely perfect being, the entire universe would have been devoured long ago," Aiden said.
"So what's His weakness?" The Director asked, curious.
"The weakness is... I'm not telling you."
Aiden left him in suspense, then ushered the Director out.
He'd already seen Avalon's terminal processing factory. Subsequent transport would naturally be handled by the Unspeakables. This was their mutual understanding.
Coming out from the Mirror of Erised, Aiden wrote a letter to Arthursi, instructing her to start selling terminals from Knockturn Alley.
Wizards who used it first would definitely greatly improve survival with terminal assistance. After some tasted the benefits, other forces would follow suit.
"Let's see them compete for this," Aiden said, grinning mischievously in his dormitory.
"Compete for what?" Edmund asked, barging in.
The young master of the Lestrange media empire walked straight into the dragon's trap, completely oblivious.
"Edmund, my good brother," Aiden said, walking over and slinging an arm around Edmund.
"Wait, what do you want to do!" Edmund said, shoving at Aiden's face.
Being the nominal head of Lestrange affairs, Edmund found himself dragged by Aiden into signing a cooperation agreement.
"Are you a vampire? Taking a forty percent intermediary fee just to develop this," Edmund said, pouting.
"Then what do you think of this thing's prospects?" Aiden asked, pointing at Edmund's head.
"Absolutely wonderful."
A box floated before Edmund's eyes. He studied the text on it intently.
"Then that's settled. Letting you in on this opportunity—you should be thanking me. If you're really unsatisfied, this agreement can be voided, and I'll find someone else."
Aiden waved the contract in his hand.
"Don't!"
Edmund quickly grabbed the contract.