A golden light flashed, and Wade felt his vision blur. After experiencing the strange tug of the Portkey, he found himself standing in a dazzling living room.
The space seed to be completely filled with books and all sorts of peculiar items, yet it sohow maintained a sense of harmonious order. Wade didn't dare move recklessly, afraid that even lifting an arm might trigger a domino effect.
"Oh, you're here," ca the voice of Nicolas Flal from behind a stack of books. He said, "Sorry, I seem to have lost track of ti because I—oh, heavens!"
The old man let out a cry of pain. Wade tilted his head curiously and saw a figure swaying behind the book pile.
Carefully finding a spot to step, he walked over and discovered an elderly man with silvery-white hair and ghostly pale skin struggling with a silver, intricately carved teapot.
The teapot was hopping angrily on the floor, held down by one of Flal's hands. Suddenly, the lid flew up and hit him on the nose, only to be easily deflected by a spell.
The falling lid then spun and struck Flal's finger. Wade clearly heard a sharp "crack."
Snapping out of his daze, Wade quickly pointed his wand: "Immobulus!" (Freezing Charm)
The teapot froze in place, and the lid, which was about to make another attack, clattered to the ground. Flal picked them both up and stuffed them into a box.
"At last, that's taken care of. I never thought… one day even a teapot would ambush …"
Supporting his lower back, Flal struggled to his feet. Wade quickly reached out to help.
He didn't dare use too much force—Flal's arm felt as fragile as a corn stick, like it might snap at the slightest mishandling.
"Thank you, child," Flal said hoarsely. "Welco to my ho. Just… be aware that most of the things here have a mind of their own. You'll need to—oh, you'll need to be careful."
As he spoke, he used his good hand to draw a circle over his injured finger. Wade watched as the misshapen finger returned to normal.
Wade raised an eyebrow slightly.
That finger looked like its bone was completely shattered, yet not a single drop of blood was spilled, and it seed there was no internal bleeding beneath the skin either.
Nicolas Flal was now 664 years old. Though still alive, his body had beco extrely fragile from the erosion of ti—truly as brittle as dry kindling.
His immortality didn't seem the least bit enviable; in fact, it looked more like a curse.
Wade didn't show any of these thoughts on his face. He simply helped Flal sit down and asked curiously, "That teapot was one of your creations too, wasn't it? It actually attacked you?"
"Anything with a mind of its own will have its own temper. It's impossible for it to love its creator unconditionally and forever,"
Flal said with a sigh. "Of course, I can't really bla it. It's mostly my fault—I locked it up for too long… I packed it into a box when I moved, and then I accidentally forgot about it… for, oh, maybe around two hundred years?"
Wade was speechless.
Anyone shut away for two centuries would be furious—teapot or not.
Now he felt that the lid rely breaking Flal's finger was actually quite rciful.
"Please, sit down, sit down. Sorry you had to see the place in such a ss—I've been trying to organize things lately."
Flal took out his wand and gave it a wave. The clutter that filled the room suddenly whooshed to the sides, pressing against the walls and clearing out a small space in the center.
Then a chair shook off the heavy leather books piled on top of it and hopped over behind Wade.
The chair bumped into Wade, making him sit down involuntarily. Then he took out the gift he had prepared and said, "Mr. Flal, this is a little sothing I made myself—a small token to mark our first eting. I hope you'll like it."
"Oh?"
Nicolas Flal accepted the wooden box with great interest, gently slid open the lid, and saw a slender quill pen resting on a bed of black velvet lining.
"A quill?"
"I've been learning various techniques for crafting magical quills from Professor Murray recently. This is one of the results of my studies,"
Wade said with a smile. "It's nothing special, just a simple little trinket."
He leaned in to explain: "I used a feather from a Ruffled-Wing Demon, a tooth from a Burrowing Bat, along with moonstone powder, Devil's Snare spores, and Mandrake sap. And, of course, the most important part: the Daydream Charm."
"As long as you write a brief description on paper, such as 'a palace filled with endless delicacies,' the writer will enter a corresponding daydream, lasting anywhere from one to thirty minutes."
"To exit the daydream, you just have to say, 'This isn't real,' and you'll wake up."
The Daydream Charm had existed for a long ti—it wasn't sothing Wade had invented. Simply casting the spell on its own could also induce an incredibly vivid daydream, but the content was often a bit... unpredictable.
For instance, soone might want to dream about a romantic encounter with a beautiful woman, but halfway through the dream, the beauty might suddenly turn into a skeleton, then transform into a buff Barbie doll, and finally, the drear might wake up screaming while being chased by a fire crab.
Because people can't control their subconscious, they can't control how their fantasies materialize in dreams.
Wade's quill was designed to make these uncontrollable daydreams more concrete—more in line with one's desires.
"Oh… what an interesting idea," Nicolas Flal said with a smile. "Perfect for daydreaming during a boring class."
"Like I said, it's just a toy," Wade replied with a grin. "But if used for studying, it could help review books in your dreams, or even let you morize large amounts of information in a short ti."
"May I try it?" Flal asked, lifting the quill.
"Of course," Wade gestured invitingly.
Nicolas Flal pulled out a sheet of parchnt and, with a trembling hand, wrote a line on it. Wade politely turned his gaze away, not peeking at the daydream Flal was crafting for himself.
The Daydream Quill didn't need to be dipped in ink—it ca pre-filled with a full reservoir. Once the ink was used up, the quill would beco inactive.
However, the one Wade gave to Flal had been enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, allowing it to store enough ink to fill a beer mug—more than enough to last a very long ti.
As Flal finished his sentence, the words on the parchnt began to glow, then lifted off the page and flew up like a swarm of fireflies. They swirled around Flal's head, turning into specks of starlight before disappearing.
Flal leaned back in his armchair, his head was slightly lowered and his eyes were half open as if lost in thought—but in truth, he had already entered the daydream he had written for himself.
A few minutes later, he murmured: "This isn't real."
And with that, Flal gave a small jolt and woke from the dream.
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- 200 Chapters
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