Chapter 145: Chasing that Faint Glimmer
The strong wind howled as if the entire world was spinning and tumbling, everything visible twisting and distorting.
A powerful repulsive force erupted, as if the whole world was stretching. Every step Lockhart and Snape took forward was incredibly difficult.
But it was precisely this difficulty that made them realize the potion might actually have been successfully brewed.
After an unknown duration of walking, the repulsive force suddenly intensified, and the surrounding strong wind and dizziness abruptly vanished. The entire field of vision became dim.
Looking around, everything was shrouded in darkness, indistinct.
The window shutters creaked, echoing in the dead silent office. Faint tapping sounds came from the corridor outside, and a chilling sense of panic crept into his heart.
This was...
The power of a vicious werewolf?
Lockhart suddenly realized something and turned to Snape. "What exactly is this potion of yours—"
He didn't finish his sentence when he suddenly realized there was no one beside him.
"!!!"
His nose twitched; he vaguely smelled a strange, foul odor.
Looking around, he quickly noticed the fruit bowl on the table rapidly decaying and rotting, with clumps of colorful mold quickly flourishing.
All life seemed to be withering rapidly.
The hand holding his wand visibly turned pale, his skin wrinkled, as if he had aged many years in an instant.
His jaw itched. He scratched it with his other hand, only to find that he had grown a long beard at some unknown point. When he pulled at it, many hairs had already begun to turn white.
"Ha~"
"Interesting!"
Lockhart laughed, his eyes bright as he carefully savored the unique magical surge accompanying each change around him. He murmured in admiration, "Is this the power of time?"
He eagerly continued forward. This was incredibly difficult, as he found his lumbar spine beginning to ache. His legs were no longer strong, trembling as if he might fall at any moment.
But this couldn't defeat him.
He simply closed his eyes, held his breath, ignoring the cold sensations in his body and the clamor in the dead silence around him. He poured all his attention into the magic within his body.
That magic was so full of life, carrying the power of the sky, clouds, moonlight, forest, and earth, accompanied by the surging vitality of thunder and fire—a vibrant life utterly different from his decaying body.
"This is the truth!"
Lockhart murmured, lightly waving his wand. His entire body glowed with silver light, letting this power carry him forward.
He walked on, again for an unknown duration, as if crossing mountain after mountain, finally emerging from the hazy clouds. The warm sunlight once again fell upon his face.
Lockhart opened his eyes and found himself back in the real office, just one meter away from the magical cauldron.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating his real, healthy, youthful skin, a warm sensation.
Only the rotten, moldy fruit in the fruit bowl on the office desk clearly told him that everything that had just happened wasn't merely a hallucination.
If he hadn't found his way out, he would have surely become an old man during that long journey, losing an unknown number of years in vain.
"This potion is really something!"
Lockhart clicked his tongue, then suddenly saw a large amount of mist beginning to emanate from the cauldron. The bubbling potion repeatedly emitted various colorful dazzling lights.
For a moment, he felt like he was that cauldron, with countless dazzling colors bursting forth from his heart.
That was ecstasy, ecstasy because of transmigration.
That was bewilderment, bewilderment because of solitude.
That was joy, joy because of companionship.
That was delight, delight because he understood his own path.
That was anger and bewilderment, anger because he was deeply mired in conflict with Voldemort, bewilderment because of life's many entanglements.
That was everything in his soul—sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, salty—mixed and surging.
Thus, every step on the path of the soul felt like a question posed to his own heart, asking—Hey, mate, do you want to keep going?
Is that even a question?
He quickly arrived in front of the cauldron. Looking back, Snape, tightly gripping his wand, watched the cauldron with some reluctance, struggling to move.
At this moment, Lockhart said nothing more, only smiled as he watched the stumbling Snape, waiting for his friend's arrival.
He knew.
He was certain.
Snape, this man, was always filled with resentment, always seething with indignation. He was never content with the status quo.
This fellow just needed a push.
Being passively pushed forward was a push. Being pushed outward by immense pressure was also a push.
Could this proud fellow tolerate being pushed away? Ha, what a joke!
Human nature is sometimes that interesting, isn't it? Passivity and activity are actually the same state of mind. Actions sometimes don't necessarily represent the soul's choice, but rather the influence of the environment.
Lockhart quietly waited, observing the living-like potion in the cauldron with keen interest.
Life Unhinged?
Penetrating the root of life, touching the realm of time?
How wondrous.
He could clearly feel that this potion had interrogated his inner self three times, only then allowing him to approach it. Each interrogation was so perilous, a slight misstep would lead to the decay of life, the tearing of the soul, and self-negation.
"Severus, you've truly conjured up something incredible."
He sighed.
"Yes, it's quite magical." Snape finally arrived in front of him, silently gazing at the cauldron. Clearly, he had endured much inner struggle when facing the mental interrogations, his face looking somewhat pale.
Lockhart wouldn't mock him for this, or think he was superior to Snape.
His own spiritual wholeness, besides having a firm will to pursue magic, also stemmed from his life experiences not being as painful.
Snape was tormented by love, his desires unfulfilled. This was his spiritual flaw, but also a part of his rich life.
No one could assert that this was necessarily bad.
Life always needed to experience something, so that both the dark and bright colors could fall upon the canvas of life, leaving traces of the journey.
"What do we do next?" Lockhart asked with some curiosity.
"Wait!" Snape watched the cauldron warily. "The magical changes and mental power that erupted from our journey here have all become nourishment for this potion. It needs a process of transformation."
Lockhart exclaimed, "Wow!" He hadn't realized that brewing a potion could involve such interesting transformations.
Oh, right. The "Mischievous Brain Brew" potion Snape had helped him brew before also required traces of his life's journey as an ingredient, seemingly following a similar concept.
They didn't wait long.
The potion in the cauldron suddenly entirely evaporated, transforming into a bizarre, viscous substance that hovered in mid-air, expanding irregularly as if filling the entire office, then instantly collapsing into a small mass, breathing in and out with eerie murmuring sounds.
Finally, the potion completely stabilized, turning into a thick black, so black it seemed to have lost all color and become void.
Boom!
It instantly exploded, forming a vertical swirling vortex, two meters high.
Lockhart reached out and lightly touched the vortex, only to find his fingers passing right through it, not feeling any liquid or other sensation.
"Keep moving forward."
Snape quickly made his judgment. His wizard's robes billowed as he strode into the vortex, his figure instantly disappearing within.
Lockhart naturally didn't hesitate, following him inside.
Gurgle~
The black vortex quickly trembled. As the two entered, it shimmered with different colors. The rotten mold in the fruit bowl on the nearby office desk suddenly burst open. A vibrant green shoot rapidly grew out, extending upwards, unfurling leaves, and blossoming flowers.
"I wanted to ask you earlier..."
Lockhart followed behind Snape, looking at the seemingly endless blackness before them. "Is this potion of yours truly a regret potion?"
Snape paused. "What do you mean?"
"I just felt the magical properties of this potion through my wand; it's clearly targeting the mind!" Lockhart followed with uneven steps, feeling as if he were treading on a giant piece of gum. "I don't understand the magic of time, but I truly have deep insights into the properties of magic."
"Targeting the mind, targeting the body, targeting bloodlines, targeting society, targeting the environment..."
He shook his head. "This is definitely different. A regret potion, if it's truly meant to change things, should logically target 'society,' or perhaps be described as targeting changes in the material reality of collective will."
"But I can feel it; it only targets the mind, mate. This potion doesn't smell right."
"It wouldn't just deceive you to resolve your regret, would it?"
He genuinely didn't understand the two mysterious fields of potions and time very well, but he had very profound insights into things like magical properties, from his initial state as a "Forest Darling" to later being led by the Dragon Cave Rabbit to Professor Kettleburn and receiving guidance from his wand, as well as his research into blood magic, and so on.
Snape's brows furrowed deeply. "I've been researching regret potions for over a decade, and none have ever truly succeeded. I finally waited for a miraculous change, passed the test, and now you're telling me this potion is still useless?"
Lockhart spread his hands. "Fate is sometimes just that malicious, it's quite normal."
Snape's gaze once again turned somber.
He pursed his lips, silent for a long time, his eyes darkly fixed on the faint glimmer vaguely visible at the end of the dark passage.
It was the only glimmer in the darkness.
"You should go out. I'm not sure what this potion will bring us," his voice was deep. "I cannot give up even a shred of hope. I must go on."
Saying that, a bitter smile appeared on his face. "Just as you said, adventure is never a pre-arranged stage play. Adventure doesn't always have a good outcome, but only with an unwavering will, bravely embarking on the journey of adventure, can one await the blossoming of magic."
"I..."
His expression hardened. "I am willing to accept any price, even if I ultimately gain nothing! Even if I lose everything because of it!"
Just for that tiny, unidentifiable chance.
He no longer hesitated, continuing forward, chasing that faint, ethereal glimmer.
....
For 90 advanced chapters:
Get advanced chapters ahead of everyone else.
👉 Join now: p_treon.com/Chaos_God