The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 523, Section 532: The Eternal Gamble

Jorkins was shaken to his core.

Ian gave him a good talking-to.

He lowered his head, looking at the remaining food on his plate, his voice hoarse: "You...you're right, sir. I...I've never really thought about these things. I...I'm ashamed."

This is a heartfelt reflection—the world of wizards has always been like this, where the words of powerful wizards are the truth, something that Jorgins has to ask himself.

After all.

The other party is stronger than me.

They definitely need to be convinced.

strength.

This is the strongest evidence to prove whether the wizarding ideas are correct.

Ian looked at him but said nothing more. Some ideas take time to digest and change. He pointed this out today not to preach, but simply to go with the flow.

A wizard who can work at the Ministry of Magic and be involved in Muggle affairs might benefit slightly in the future if he can change some of his deep-seated prejudices.

"Let's eat, the food's getting cold." Ian picked up his knife and fork again, ending the conversation.

Jorgins nodded silently and resumed eating, but his state of mind was completely different. As he chewed, his gaze involuntarily followed Ian, looking more at the Muggle world outside the window. The hurried pedestrians and familiar street scenes seemed to take on a different color and warmth in his eyes.

The lunch at the ordinary Muggle diner ended in a subtle silence. Jorgins ate with a heavy heart; the shepherd's pie and fish and chips seemed to taste strangely different from usual. Ian, on the other hand, ate leisurely, even ordering an apple pie for dessert at the end.

Then, enjoy it slowly and deliberately.

When it came time to pay, Ian used the modern banknotes. Joggins tried to pay, but Ian stopped him with a look. The proprietress smiled and said, "Welcome back next time," her smile genuine.

"You think I'm poor? I'm very rich!"

Ian showed off a bit.

Stepping out of the restaurant, the afternoon sun was slightly brighter, but the air remained chilly. There were more pedestrians on the street; during lunch break, people hurried along.

Jorkins followed half a step behind Ian, feeling as if his brain was a jumbled mess of conflicting information and emotions—fear and awe of Ian's power, lingering fear from the previous battle, confusion and unease about the mysterious black-robed man and the magical implications, and the profound self-reflection and shame triggered by Ian's recent remarks about wizards and Muggles.

He secretly glanced at Ian walking ahead. The young man's back was upright yet relaxed, his steps steady, seemingly completely blending into the Muggle environment around him, yet subtly exuding an air of detachment.

Who exactly is this person? Where does he come from? What is his purpose? He saved me, treated me to a meal, and said those thought-provoking things…

Was it really just a matter of seeing injustice and acting on a whim? Just as Jorkins' thoughts were in turmoil, Ian led him into a relatively quiet alleyway lined with tall brick buildings on both sides. There weren't many people in the alley, only a few pigeons cooing on the walls, and the sunlight was cut into alternating bands of light and shadow by the buildings.

Ian stopped by a shady, relatively clean wall, turned around, and faced Jorgins. The silence in the alley was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the restaurant and main street just moments before.

Is it coming?

Jorgins' heart leaped into his throat again; he knew the easy time was over. The real business was about to begin.

"Alright, Mr. Jorkins," Ian said, the casualness he had displayed during the meal gone, replaced by his previous calm and profound expression, though less of the initial coldness and aloofness, perhaps due to the lunch and brief conversation they had shared. "We've eaten and strolled around. Now, let's get down to business."

His gaze fell on Jorgins' face, gentle yet unyielding: "I need a clearer understanding of the prophet in your memories, and the whole story. You previously agreed to let me examine your memories, and that offer remains valid. Of course, if you change your mind…"

"No! I haven't changed my mind!" Jorgins quickly stated, his tone firm. After their time together, his fear of Ian remained, but it had lessened the panic of facing the "unknown terror" and increased the awe he felt towards the "unfathomable yet seemingly reasonable and powerful figure." Moreover, he was eager to know what had happened to him. "Sir, please check. I... I will still cooperate as much as possible and remain unguarded."

In fact, setting up defenses is useless.

It's completely meaningless.

To read the latest complete chapters, visit SpeedReadingValley.

As he spoke, he tried again to relax his mental and magical barriers, even though it made him feel as if he had taken off his armor and was standing naked in front of the other person, filled with insecurity. But he forced himself to trust the person in front of him—at least if the other person tried to forcibly examine or do anything else.

Since you are powerless to resist, you might as well be more honest.

Ian nodded, acknowledging his renewed cooperation. This time, instead of dangling his finger in the air, he stepped forward, closing the distance. The two stood face to face, the alley quiet except for the faint sounds of cars on the distant street and the flapping of pigeons overhead. "Relax, look into my eyes," Ian said calmly, with a strangely soothing quality.

Jorgins did as he was told and looked into Ian's eyes. Those eyes appeared exceptionally deep in the backlight of the alley, like two dark lakes that reflected no starlight, yet seemed capable of drawing one's soul in. Jorgins felt a slight dizziness, but he struggled to remain conscious and offered no resistance.

Ian slowly raised his right hand. This time, a tiny, almost invisible silver halo gathered at the tip of his index finger, within which tiny fragments of memory seemed to flow. He didn't touch Joggins' forehead, but simply placed his fingertip lightly on the palm of his other hand, making a symbolic gesture of "connection."

At the same time, the light in his eyes shifted slightly, becoming even more profound.

This is called "capturing the mind and seizing thoughts".

There was no incantation, no wand waving, not even a noticeable process of magical energy gathering. Yet, in Jorkins's perception, a gentle yet incredibly resilient, profound spiritual power, as deep as the starry sky, had silently seeped into the surface of his consciousness like the gentlest stream of water. There was no rough tearing, no uncomfortable cold probing. Ian's Legilimency technique had reached a level of consummate skill, even a state of returning to simplicity. This was neither Dumbledore's style, full of wisdom, patiently guiding, as if lighting a lamp in a maze, nor Voldemort's style, full of aggression, ruthlessly tearing apart all defenses.

Ian's approach is closer to an "immersive" or "high-dimensional descent." He does not attempt to dominate or distort the flow of Joggins' consciousness, but rather, with a detached and precise attitude, "synchronizes" and "observes" the memory nodes related to specific events.

There was no cover-up.

Therefore, those who are infected also experience symptoms.

Jorkins felt as if he had fallen into a slightly blurry river made up of countless lights and fragments.

He "saw" the unease he felt when he was working late into the night in the office, organizing lists; he "saw" the alertness and confusion he felt when he encountered the mysterious man in black robes in the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron bar. The figure of the man in black robes was indeed blurry in his memory, as if shrouded in a flowing shadow. Only those two strange sentences echoed with unusual clarity.

He also "saw" his own terror and hasty response when he was cornered by Death Eaters; finally, he "saw" the "guidance" that exploded in his mind like a thunderclap during the critical moment of desperate escape and the onslaught of despair, and the almost instinctive urge to run towards the "Royal Catherine Hotel" that followed...

Fragments of memory appeared quickly, clearly, and coherently before Ian's "eyes".

Ian did not delve into Jorkins' other memories; he did not touch those areas unrelated to personal privacy, emotional entanglements, or work secrets.

Ian got straight to the point—starting with the anomaly that Jorkins initially discovered in the suspicious list, to the detailed account of his encounter with the mysterious man in black in Diagon Alley, to every detail of being chased by Death Eaters, and finally to the entire psychological process and perception that led him to the hotel during the crisis.

The objective is clearly focused on the relevant events.

The scroll of memories slowly unfolded before Ian's eyes, more vivid and detailed than what Jorkins had described, and also contained more subconscious details and sensory information that even Jorkins himself might have overlooked.

Soon, Ian noticed something was wrong.

Surrounding the fragments of Jorgins' memories of encountering the man in black robes and being "guided" in a moment of crisis, there lingered an extremely subtle "additional element," almost completely integrated with Jorgins' own mental fluctuations, which would have been difficult for Ian to detect if he did not possess an extraordinary sensitivity to the mental and magical realms...

It wasn't a deliberately implanted false memory, nor was it a strong trace of mind control. Rather, it was a more sophisticated and subtle form of magical suggestion. This suggestion was cleverly woven into the mental reception process of those two sentences by Jorkins, like an invisible "highlighting label" or "conditional trigger program" marking a specific information node. When certain conditions were met, this "label" would be activated, forcibly pushing the marked "guidance" information to the forefront of Jorkins's thinking, accompanied by a strong, inclination to follow it. "That's why he came!" It didn't deprive Jorkins of his free will; in non-crisis situations, he could completely ignore or forget this sentence. But when a crisis was triggered, it could greatly influence his instantaneous decision-making, making him "instinctively" choose the pre-set path. The method was exquisite, leaving no trace.

The caster possessed an exceptionally high level of mastery over mental magic and clearly had some prior knowledge of Jorkins's psychological state and behavioral patterns. This was certainly not something that could be done on a whim or by any random dark wizard.

"As expected, we've been set up." Ian's mental tendrils gently touched the "hint" structure. It was very stable, tightly bound to Joggins's mind, but it didn't have any malicious intent or backdoor program; it was more like a simple "guiding device." Its magical characteristics... Ian sensed them carefully.

It was somewhat peculiar, unlike the Hogwarts system he was familiar with, and also unlike the common dark magic or ancient spellbook schools. It carried a kind of... very ancient, obscure, and even slightly inhuman ethereal quality, but it was also cleverly mixed with a very faint trace of the common fluctuations of the British magical world of this era.

This makes it less likely to be detected.

This wasn't Voldemort's or Death Eaters' style; they preferred violent control or the Imperius Curse. Nor was it Dumbledore's or the Order of the Phoenix's style; Dumbledore was more open and honest, and usually wouldn't use such deep innuendo on strangers. This method… reminded Ian of ancient prophets, and legends of fate weavers or some mysterious beings existing outside the mainstream magical system.

"Did I make him think of coming to this hotel entrance...?" Ian thought to himself, slowly withdrawing his mental power.

The entire process took only a dozen seconds. For Jorkins, it was just a slight daze, as if he had just had a very brief, immersive dream, before he woke up. He felt no loss or confusion in his memory, only a slight mental fatigue from being "browsed." He looked at Ian anxiously, awaiting the verdict.

Ian lowered his hand, shifting his gaze from Joggins' face to the "Royal Catherine Hotel" sign in the distance. His eyes grew increasingly deep, as if he were pondering some complex mystery.

"You're not lying, Mr. Jorkins." Ian finally spoke, his voice calm, which made Jorkins breathe a sigh of relief, as if a huge burden had been lifted. "Your memory is very clear. The details about the man in black and his words, as well as your reaction in the crisis, are all true." A look of gratitude and relief appeared on Jorkins' face.

“But,” Ian changed the subject, his gaze returning to Jorkins’ face with a sharp, insightful look, “you’re not entirely right either. You didn’t just ‘coincidentally’ remember that phrase; rather, someone planted a very subtle, very clever magical suggestion in your mind beforehand.”

"This suggestion was triggered when you faced a deadly threat, forcibly guiding you to make the 'choice' of coming here," Ian told the other party the truth.

Jorkins' smile froze on his face, replaced by a deeper sense of horror.

"A... a magical hint? Someone... cast a spell on me? When? Was it that man in black? Why... why would he do that?" Although he had this intuition before, after verifying it, Jorgins was still somewhat doubtful.

"At present, the man in black robes seems to be the most suspicious."

Ian said slowly.

"As for the purpose..." He paused, his gaze sweeping over Jorgins, "Perhaps it's to save you—by leading you to a place that might offer 'variables' or 'protection.' Or perhaps... there are other, more complex schemes. But in any case, to plant such a subtle and imperceptible suggestion in the mind of a wizard like you, an employee of the International Department of Magical Cooperation, whose own magical power is not weak... he is definitely not a benevolent person." Ian's tone carried a rare hint of solemnity:

"The entity that attacked you is definitely not simple. Mr. Jorkins, the matter you're involved in is likely far more complex than a simple leak of a dark magic artifact or a Death Eater hunt."

Jorkins stood frozen in place, feeling a chill run from his feet to the top of his head. What he had initially thought was just a bad work mistake leading to a chase had now turned into a complex mystery involving a mysterious powerful figure, eerie hints, and an unknown purpose.

He felt like a chess piece!

The evidence is being manipulated by an invisible hand, yet the entire chessboard remains obscured.