The moment he heard the name Necronomicon, a strange light flashed through Theodore's eyes.
Again?
It was connected to the Necronomicon yet again?
That book seemed to be involved in far too many secrets.
Conveniently enough, Theodore wanted to raise his cultivation faster anyway, and he still needed to obtain the formula for the Myriad-Demon Golden Pill from Madam Pince.
Now he had an excellent excuse to question her further about any clues she might have regarding the Necronomicon.
At that moment, however, Ollivander's face was full of regret.
"Unfortunately, not long after this ancestor mentioned the Necronomicon, he died suddenly of illness."
"The Four Founders personally presided over his cremation."
"And the notebook ends abruptly there."
"Otherwise, perhaps we might have learned much more."
"Still, at least from that record I was able to infer several ruins that may contain traces of ancient magic. Perhaps one of them will yield further discoveries."
Theodore frowned.
When it came to wand-making, Ollivander was extraordinary—he had reached the very summit of the craft.
But in actual battle, he was nowhere near the top.
Practically any competent dark wizard could probably defeat him with ease.
And whatever dangers might lie hidden in the search for ancient magic would be far beyond even those posed by dark wizards.
If Ollivander encountered one of the truly twisted horrors, then death would likely be the best outcome he could hope for.
Theodore wanted to persuade him not to rush in so quickly.
But a man who had just been pulled back from the edge of death had clearly made up his mind instead.
The old wandmaker's gaze was as firm as iron.
"Theodore, I know perfectly well that this road will be extremely dangerous."
"I'll prepare as thoroughly as possible."
"I'll call upon every connection the Ollivander family possesses and hire as many guards as I can."
"But I've already come this far."
"I can't give it up now. Otherwise, wouldn't that make the magic you used on me meaningless?"
On the System screen, more lines appeared.
[Ou Yezi, having escaped death by a hair's breadth, speaks with you for a time. His determination to forge a treasure that will shake the ages only grows stronger.]
[My life seeks the Dao. A hundred deaths—no regret.]
Theodore let out a silent sigh.
Then suddenly, a faint golden light lit in his eyes.
His Microscopic Heavenly Eye, which had been shattered before, had recovered a little after one night's rest, and he opened it once more for Ollivander's sake.
At the same time, he invoked The Secrets of Heaven Can Be Measured again.
"This time, calculate the fortune or misfortune of Ollivander's journey."
What happened next caught Theodore completely off guard.
This divination produced not one outcome, but two.
In the first, Ollivander encountered a twisted horror, died in some foreign ruin, and met a death of unusual misery.
In the second, however, he received help from a powerful benefactor, escaped danger, and even reaped tremendous rewards.
More than that—Theodore felt, faintly but unmistakably, that Ollivander's trip might even benefit himself considerably.
"So fortune and misfortune are determined by people?"
After pondering for a moment, Theodore drew a deep breath. Light flickered in his eyes, and images of his own path through the magical world rose in his mind.
If one went by the "storyline" suggested by the System, then he was practically the undisputed number one among the younger generation of the primordial world.
He had split saintly manifestations with his sword. He had raised a blade against Hongjun himself.
Who else had accomplishments like that?
Even if Ollivander's journey truly held danger, then with Theodore involved, danger would turn into blessing and calamity into fortune.
"In that case…"
"I'll believe that man can triumph over heaven."
The next moment, Theodore flicked a finger.
A piece of wood in Ollivanders floated into the air.
With a few casual motions, he shaped it into a wooden talisman.
Then he pricked the tip of his finger, and a strand of golden blood emerged. The Heavenly Demon Treasure-Refining Art began to move.
At once, the spiritual radiance and auspicious cloud of the Purple-Gold Crown of Auspicious Clouds descended, and Theodore sealed one strand of radiance and one strand of cloud-vapor into the talisman.
When he finished, the ordinary-looking wooden piece began to give off a faint glow, radiating a gentle and peaceful aura.
Theodore handed it to Ollivander.
"Ollivander, no matter what happens, carry this talisman with you."
"If you encounter danger, it may be able to save you once."
"And if the magic inside it is triggered, I'll know immediately."
Emotion stirred visibly in Ollivander's eyes.
He did not understand at all what sort of magic Theodore had just used.
But that did not stop him from understanding one thing with certainty—
the wooden talisman Theodore had given him was absolutely no ordinary object.
He let out a soft sigh.
"Theodore…"
"You are the most extraordinary little wizard I've ever seen."
"You've helped me so much, I hardly know how I'm meant to thank you."
Theodore only laughed easily.
"Ollivander, that seal you gave me helped me a great deal too."
"So what's there to thank me for?"
Just then something occurred to Theodore.
"Oh, right."
"I have a friend who's been using an old family wand."
"This time I wanted to bring him here and let him choose a new wand that actually suits him."
Delight appeared immediately on Ollivander's face.
"And why should that be any trouble at all?"
"Bring him in at once."
"My wandcraft has improved recently. They're still nowhere near the Elder Wand, of course, but I have made several wands far stronger than any I'd produced before."
"One of them might suit your friend perfectly."
"And if not, I still have plenty of time—I can even custom-make one especially suited to him."
Only then did Theodore step outside.
Ron had been waiting at the door the entire time, face full of worry.
The moment he saw Theodore emerge, concern showed clearly on his face.
"Theodore, are you alright?"
"And Mr. Ollivander…"
Ron paused and looked distinctly sympathetic.
"Don't be too upset."
In Ron's mind, Ollivander was Theodore's friend. Watching a friend die with your own eyes—Theodore must be feeling terrible.
The next second, however, Ron froze.
Because Theodore simply gestured to him.
"Ollivander? Oh, he's inside waiting for you."
Ron's legs nearly gave out beneath him.
His face turned white with horror.
"What?"
"He… he's come back as a corpse?!"
Theodore burst out laughing, hauled the panicking Ron into the shop, and gave him a brief explanation.
Only after a good while did Ron finally regain his bearings.
So St Mungo's had already concluded that Ollivander was practically finished—
and yet Theodore had dragged him back from the edge?
Oh, wait.
Theodore was the one who had done it?
Then suddenly it made perfect sense.
At that moment, Ollivander brought out several specially prepared boxes, clearly products of his recent feverish work.
"Come, Ron."
"Since you're Theodore's friend, that makes you one of the most valued guests ever to enter my shop."
"Let me see whether one of these belongs to you."
A look of anticipation rose in Theodore's eyes as well.
Ron's current wand had originally belonged to Charlie Weasley: twelve inches, ash wood, unicorn hair.
It was not perfectly matched to Ron, but it had at least served him reasonably well.
In the original story, Ron's second wand from Ollivanders had been fourteen inches, willow wood, still with unicorn hair.
Willow was a rare wand wood with healing power, best suited to owners who, no matter how much they tried to hide it, often carried a deep lack of inner security.
That had matched the insecure Ron of the original timeline extremely well.
But now Theodore could clearly see that this Ron had grown far beyond the original.
He was genuinely curious whether Ron's new wand would still be the same.
To Theodore's surprise, it did not take long at all.
Out of the several newly made wands Ollivander produced, Ron very quickly found the one that resonated with him.
At once, Ollivander's eyes lit up.
"Unicorn hair."
"It produces the most stable form of magic, and it is also the most loyal."
"But the more important point is the wood."
"Black walnut."
"Only a wizard with keen instinct and deep insight can win the acceptance of black walnut."
"And if that wizard also possesses the precious qualities of sincerity and self-knowledge, then it becomes one of the most loyal of all wands—and one with remarkable talent in every class of spell."
"Ron Weasley…"
"You will become a very remarkable wizard."
Ron's own eyes grew brighter and brighter.
Even after leaving Ollivanders, he still could not stop admiring the wand.
It was, in every meaningful sense, the first completely new major possession he had ever owned.
Just holding it made him feel certain that the magic he cast with it would be much stronger than before.
"This is brilliant."
"Now maybe I can actually help you, Theodore."
Ron looked at Theodore and said softly,
"I can feel it, you know."
"Since yesterday, you've been worrying about something."
"I've never seen you like this before. Not with that kind of heaviness in your face."
"So whatever it is, it must be really bad."
"Maybe I still can't help right now."
"But one day I definitely will."
Theodore stared for a moment in surprise.
That sharp intuition—
it truly suited the owner of a black walnut wand.
Then Theodore smiled.
"It is an enormous problem."
"So enormous it could pull the entire magical world—even the whole world—into it."
"The so-called Dark Lord everyone in magical Britain fears so much?"
"Compared to that crisis, he may look no more than a helpless child."
Ron's eyes widened.
A threat greater than the Dark Lord?
For him, that was almost impossible to imagine.
But in the next moment, he tightened his grip on the wand and his eyes hardened with determination.
"I'm not afraid."
"And not just me. Harry, Hermione, Neville—we'll all help you."
"Theodore, the burden of everything can't rest on your shoulders alone."
"If there's anything we can carry with you, then we'll work twice as hard to be able to carry it."
Theodore looked at him in surprise, and there was unmistakable warmth in his smile now.
At that moment, another thought came to him.
He, Harry, Hermione, and Ron had all already reached the level of life-and-death friendship.
Perhaps now, once they returned to Hogwarts, it would finally be time to put one of his old ideas into practice.
Some of the methods from the primordial world—
he could begin experimenting to see whether Hermione and the others were capable of using them.
Even if they could not, simply drawing upon spiritual energy should already be enough to raise the intensity of their magical power.
And Theodore was certain that if this trajectory continued, their strength would eventually surpass anything their counterparts in the original story had reached at the same age.
They might even stand on equal ground with the young Dumbledore or the young Voldemort.
After all, primordial methods against the magical world's methods amounted to little less than dimensional suppression.
And while Theodore did not expect them to truly help him fight those hidden horrors—especially the one judged by the System as "Pangu"—
they would at least gain some real power to protect themselves.
If nothing else, the intensity of the "challenge game" Theodore had been planning could now be increased several times over.
Compared with it, the Triwizard Tournament would probably end up looking like a child's playground.
And as soon as he thought of the challenge game, another thought stirred in Theodore's heart.
"I wonder what Quirrell and Voldemort are up to now."
Before this, Theodore could only rely on the System's notifications to know what Voldemort was doing.
But now, a dim and profound gleam passed through his eyes. With the Microscopic Heavenly Eye paired with The Secrets of Heaven Can Be Measured, Theodore instantly saw the scene of Quirrell and Voldemort in the present.
And the moment that scene entered his sight, Theodore's face changed.
"What the hell?"
At that very moment, deep in the Forbidden Forest, Quirrell's face was full of a reckless, do-or-die determination.
After St Mungo's had confirmed that he was carrying a terrifying curse and did not have long left, Quirrell had come to feel that life and death no longer meant anything.
He had already cursed out Voldemort himself.
What was left in the world to fear?
A dying man, desperate to live—what would he not dare to do?
"Now, I can do anything."
"Now, I fear nothing."
"No matter what terror lies ahead, I will not stop walking."
At that same moment, Voldemort seemed to sense some dreadful impending danger and began to rouse.
The instant he saw what Quirrell was staring at, Voldemort's expression changed violently, and he screamed in horror:
"Quirrell, what are you doing?"
"No. No—don't go near that thing!"
"Calm down, Quirrell! Don't be extreme! It hasn't come to that point yet!"
"Stop! STOP!"
But this time, even Voldemort's commands could not halt Quirrell's steps.
The will to survive was so strong that Quirrell was, for a brief moment, actually resisting Voldemort's attempts to seize control of his body.
Slowly, painfully, he kept dragging himself forward.
"I want to live."
"Even one more day alive is still one more day of hope."
"For the Philosopher's Stone, I'll pay any price."
"Even the Dark Lord can't stop me from trying to survive!"
Voldemort screamed in outright terror.
For the first time in his life—other than when forced to bow before Dumbledore—he was pleading with someone beneath him.
"Quirrell, I'm sorry! Alright? I'm sorry!"
"I admit I may have been a bit harsh with you before, but don't do this! Don't go this far!"
"I swear I'll treat you better from now on. I won't punish you over every little thing. Stop. Stop right now…"
"I'm begging you, alright?! I can't accept this!"
But Quirrell only laughed wildly, baring his teeth.
"You know, suddenly the Dark Lord doesn't seem all that terrifying anymore. Not all that high and mighty either."
"But I can't help it."
"After last time, once we killed so many unicorns, every unicorn left in the forest fled far away from Hogwarts. I can't find any of them anymore. Even drinking unicorn blood as poison to prolong my life isn't an option."
"But heaven never seals every road. Merlin has shown mercy after all. This is a gift from above—how could I reject it?"
Quirrell staggered to a tree and gazed down at a still-warm pile beneath it as if looking upon treasure.
"Fresh unicorn dung."
"It may not be as good as unicorn blood, but it should still restore some life."
"And the key thing is—it won't curse me the way unicorn blood does. It won't speed up my death."
"Damn it, Master, why didn't I think of this sooner?"
"Drinking blood was a mistake. Unicorn dung is the true tonic for someone in our situation!"
"I'm doing it. Down the hatch!"
In the next instant, Voldemort let out a scream of absolute agony.
And Theodore instantly broke off the divination, his face turning green as he clapped a hand over his mouth and violently shook his head, trying to drive the scene from his mind.
Quirrell…
You absolute madman.
What was Voldemort in comparison?
I acknowledge you as the strongest.
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