Hogwarts: I graduated before the system came

“The remaining anger, hunger, and that key are the continuation of the movement.”

This is an impeccable deduction based on real-world logic.

Douglas did not refute, but just looked at him quietly with a hint of inquiry in his eyes.

"I'll take charge."

Bill raised his wand, like a symphony orchestra conductor about to take the stage, with a gleam of concentration in his eyes.

He did not cast the spell immediately, but first drew a light circle in the air with the tip of his staff, as if setting a soft tone for the following music.

He pointed his wand at the clay urn that represented sorrow.

A very thin, silver-white strand of magic power flowed out from the tip of the wand, like a spider silk, silently resting on the mouth of the jar.

The tone of Tao Weng's whisper changed slightly, and there seemed to be a hint of peace of being listened to in the helpless crying.

Successful.

The corners of Bill's mouth rose slightly, and he turned his wrist lightly. The silver magic thread drew an elegant arc in the air and extended towards the pottery jar representing fear.

He wants to connect these two notes together.

Just at the moment when the silver thread touched the second pottery jar.

An accident happened.

"Om-"

The whispers in the entire tomb seemed to be switched from slow tempo to the sharpest high notes in an instant as if by an invisible hand.

It was no longer background noise, nor was it a resonance of emotion.

It turned into red-hot iron needles with barbs, piercing into the two men's brains brutally and mercilessly.

The tomb disappeared.

What Bill saw before his eyes were no longer the cold stone walls and ancient pottery jars.

He saw the Burrow.

The crooked but extremely warm house that held all his childhood memories was now on fire.

The orange-red flames greedily licked the wooden walls, and thick black smoke billowed out of every window like the open mouth of a devil.

He heard his family's cries for help.

Ginny's shrill cries, Ron's desperate roar, and his mother's heart-wrenching call.

Every sound was like a knife, piercing deep into his heart.

He rushed towards the fire like a madman, but was bounced back hard by an invisible, cold wall.

He could only watch helplessly as the house groaned and collapsed in flames, and as the figures of his loved ones were swallowed by the flames.

Powerless.

This was the deepest anxiety in his heart, the most extreme anxiety for his family's safety, which was magnified a thousand times at this moment and turned into a burning hell.

"Armor protection!"

Bill roared in the illusion, and powerful magic burst out from his body, trying to build a defense.

But all he saw was his own spell passing through the flames in vain, without causing a single ripple.

The illusion remains stubborn, like a maggot attached to the bone.

Meanwhile, Douglas's world was changing.

But unlike Bill's decline, he was more like an audience member who took the initiative to walk into the screening room.

The scene of the car accident when he was seven years old slowly constructed around him.

The cold rain fell, the harsh sound of brakes scraped against my head, and the blurry faces of my parents appeared again through the broken car window.

Then came the tall, empty corridors of the orphanage, the smell of disinfectant and cheap stew in the air, accurately replicated in his nostrils.

The feeling of being abandoned by the world came like a tide.

But this time, the tide did not drown him.

His soul is different.

It was not a blank sheet of paper, but a parchment that had been written on, carefully wiped clean, and then written on again.

The memories of his previous life had long since faded, but they had left a tough, invisible foundation deep in his soul.

This background made his feelings at the moment become extremely wonderful.

He could clearly feel the power of the ancient curse, like an experienced doctor holding a probe, probing and examining the deepest scars on his soul bit by bit.

The pain is real, and the loneliness is real too.

But he was like an observer who was detached from the matter, observing all this calmly.

Instead of resisting, he let go of his mind and allowed that power to wreak havoc in his spiritual world.

Even enjoying this feeling.

It's a free, in-depth soul checkup.

He could clearly "see" where the trauma from his childhood had left the deepest scars in his soul.

He could "touch" how that sense of loneliness, like a vine, was entwined around the core of his vitality.

He could even analyze which negative emotion the power of the curse would encounter the strongest resistance when trying to amplify.

He was like a hacker. When his firewall was under attack, he calmly recorded every exploited vulnerability and analyzed the operating logic of the attack code.

His body was trembling slightly, which was the instinctive reaction when his soul was touched, but his consciousness was clearer and calmer than ever before.

When he saw Bill struggling in pain beside him, like a lion trapped in a net.

Douglas knew it was time to end the physical examination.

He slowly raised his hand and pointed it at the source of the scream. His voice was not loud, but it was majestic and penetrated all illusions.

"enough."