The moment Theodore sensed the transformation in the Eight-Nine Mystical Art, his whole face lit up.
Today truly was a day of double blessings.
The Eight-Nine Mystical Art had nine turns in total. With each turn, the body and all manner of transformation arts would become more powerful and more refined.
Legend said that if one could reach the Ninth Turn, one's body would rival that of the ancient Ancestral Witches of the primordial age, while also possessing countless transformative mysteries of the demon races. It would be a state of boundless wonder.
But as far as Theodore knew, though great beings in the primordial world had cultivated the Eight-Nine Mystical Art—figures like Yuan Hong, chief of the Seven Monsters of Mount Mei, or Yang Jian—
none of them had ever approached the Ninth Turn.
Yuan Hong had perished in the Investiture tribulation. For all his astonishing foundation, he ended as nothing more than a name on the Investiture roll, his future path forever cut off.
And though Yang Jian later became famed as a fleshly saint, his might shaking heaven and earth, the distance between him and the Ninth Turn was likely so vast that it could not even be measured in ordinary terms.
Thus, the so-called Nine Turns of the Mystic Art could only be called the ideal state of the technique.
In reality, no one had ever cultivated it to that level.
But Theodore was still far from that ultimate mystery. Never mind the Ninth Turn—even reaching the First Turn was already enough to fill him with wild joy.
For once the First Turn was achieved, not only would his physical body surge upward and his defensive ability rise enormously, but he would gain another miraculous trait as well:
Flesh and blood that would not die.
Even if his head were cut off, a new one could regrow in mere moments.
As for severed limbs, shattered organs, and the like—they would barely even count as injuries. His survivability would rise to a terrifying degree.
At this moment, Theodore discarded all stray thoughts and fully circulated the Eight-Nine Mystical Art.
With the help of the Microscopic Heavenly Eye, and with the additional support of his Profound Insight into the Mystic Art talent, Theodore's comprehension would have counted as outstanding even among the younger generation of the primordial world.
Very soon, he let out a clear cry.
His blood surged through the sky. A golden light swallowed sun and moon.
The First Turn of the Eight-Nine Mystical Art—
was achieved.
In the next instant, Theodore felt a boundless strength rise from every bone and tendon in his body. His flesh, already transcendent by ordinary standards, became even more terrifying.
And the golden light from Adamantine Undying Body, which had always hovered around him as a separate protection, now began to fuse with his flesh itself, giving him the true feel of a divine Buddha-body.
A look of sudden realization entered Theodore's eyes.
"The path of the Eight-Nine Mystical Art was always a road toward bodily sanctification."
"And the Adamantine Undying Body is itself one of the fruits of bodily sanctification. In a sense, this is almost like reversing cause and effect."
But very quickly, Theodore stopped dwelling on such fine details.
No matter how it worked, the only thing that mattered was that he had grown stronger.
His flesh had now soared again, and with the golden light fused into it, he felt like a divine Buddha in human form.
At that moment, it seemed to Theodore that no calamity in the world could truly threaten him anymore. Anything that came would simply break against this body.
With this, combined with the protection of the Purple-Gold Crown of Auspicious Clouds, even the deeply hidden horrors of the magical world no longer seemed especially frightening.
Ordinary traces of madness could not even break through his flesh anymore, much less contaminate him.
"And more than that…"
Theodore drew a breath, then suddenly raised two fingers like a sword and slashed down at his own arm.
At once, a golden arm fell away from his body.
But Theodore simply picked up the severed limb and pressed it back to the wound. In an instant, it was whole again.
Even if he had not reattached it, a new arm would have regrown within a few seconds.
The same was true of his head.
And through all of it, Theodore felt almost no loss at all.
Even if he cut off his arm dozens of times, the speed of recovery would barely slow.
That kind of vitality was already stronger than any magical creature known in the magical world by an absurd margin.
At that point, a sudden thought flashed through Theodore's mind.
"The Killing Curse is said to mean certain death on contact. When I first entered Hogwarts, I was still somewhat wary of it."
"At the time, even with the Adamantine Undying Body, my cultivation was too shallow. A single Killing Curse could still have seriously injured me."
"But now my strength is worlds apart from what it was then."
"Perhaps it's time to test the curse for myself."
The thought passed through his mind, and Theodore acted at once without hesitation.
He reversed his wand and pointed it at himself, speaking the infamous words that made the entire magical world tremble.
"Avada Kedavra."
A brilliant jet of green light burst forth and shot straight at him.
But as the Eight-Nine Mystical Art turned of its own accord, a layer of golden light surfaced over his body. The curse dissolved in moments against it, leaving not so much as a scratch on Theodore's skin.
He let out a slow breath.
This did not surprise him.
"The Killing Curse may call itself the curse that takes life, but in the end it is only a spell of the magical world."
"The Eight-Nine Mystical Art, on the other hand, is a profound law of the primordial world—something that countless immortals and gods could not kill or suppress. Once it reaches even the smallest level of accomplishment, how could a mere Killing Curse possibly threaten it?"
Then Theodore paused and sensed his own lifespan.
After the First Turn of the Mystic Art, it now felt long and unbroken, stretching on and on without visible end.
Living ten thousand years would likely be nothing extraordinary.
He could not help sighing.
"With the First Turn of the Mystic Art, I can survive decapitation, ignore the Killing Curse, and live for ten thousand years."
"Voldemort exhausted himself making Horcruxes, but no matter how much magical protection he layered onto them, they still can't truly escape the flow of time. If they last a thousand years, that would already be impressive."
"As for survivability… ha. He boasts that as long as the Horcruxes remain, he cannot die, yet one reflected Killing Curse reduced him to such a miserable state."
"And once someone sees through the flaws in his Horcruxes, even a few students who haven't yet graduated can take his life."
Theodore shook his head and delivered his judgment on the matter.
"Horcruxes are garbage."
With that, he finally left the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
…
At noon that very day, Theodore and the others followed Neville's invitation and accompanied him to the Longbottom estate.
Augusta Longbottom received them warmly. She was Neville's grandmother and the current pillar holding the Longbottom family upright.
The moment she saw Neville, her eyes turned red, and she gave him an unexpectedly warm embrace.
Neville was utterly at a loss.
In his memory, his grandmother had always had a terrible temper, especially where his forgetfulness was concerned.
Even the day she had sent him off to Hogwarts, she had not hugged him this warmly.
Looking at Neville now, Augusta's eyes were full of emotion.
"This really does feel like a dream."
"Neville, you have no idea how many times I worried that you'd fail at Hogwarts and Dumbledore would send me a letter saying you'd been expelled."
"I've had nightmares about that more than once. If that had happened, I truly don't know how I could have faced Frank and Alice."
"Thank goodness—you're a good lad. The traditions of the Longbottom family haven't been wasted on you."
Then she turned to Theodore and the others, her gaze soft with affection.
"So you're Neville's friends? Merlin above, I never imagined Neville would invite so many friends home."
"He told me everything. You've all helped him so much."
"And Theodore especially—if not for you, I'm afraid my grandson would still be letting himself get pushed around."
Theodore only shook his head.
"Neville already possesses remarkable talent. Even if I hadn't given him a push, he would still have become a great wizard one day."
"After all, he's the heir of the Longbottom family. And there have never been cowards among the Longbottoms. Isn't that right?"
That answer made Augusta beam even more brightly, and she entertained them with the greatest warmth inside Longbottom Manor.
The food laid before them was dazzling in its abundance.
But Theodore noticed one thing:
though the Longbottom home still preserved all its ancient furnishings and the heraldic emblems that represented the family's heritage, there were no house-elves left.
This entire table of dishes had been prepared by Augusta alone.
From that alone, it was obvious that the Longbottom family was not living especially well.
Not every pure-blood family was like the Malfoys, the Blacks, or the Potters. The Potters at least had once possessed a fortune-making hair potion formula.
The Longbottoms clearly had no such profitable industry, and with all the years of medical expenses for Neville's parents, their days were probably rather strained.
Naturally, Theodore would never bring up such an awkward topic on Christmas Day of all days.
In the easy, cheerful atmosphere, they ate until all their bellies were round, and Neville led them through a little of Longbottom family history.
By evening, Augusta scattered Floo Powder into the fireplace.
As the flames turned green, a lingering sadness rose once again into her eyes.
"Come along, Neville. And you too, children."
"If Frank and Alice know you've come, they'll be very happy. Very happy indeed."
A short while later, Theodore and the others followed Neville and Augusta into the hospital ward, standing quietly by as they looked at Neville's parents, lying unconscious in their beds.
Hermione's eyes had long since gone red, and she kept wiping at them, trying not to let herself cry aloud.
A deep ache rose in Ron's chest as well, and for no reason at all he thought of his own parents.
Thank goodness they were healthy.
That was real good fortune.
If their situations had been reversed—if he had been the one in Neville's place—Ron felt the sky itself would have collapsed.
As for Harry, his expression was more complicated still.
Part of him felt a kind of envy. At least Neville could see his parents and speak to them.
But another part of him could only feel pity.
For Neville, this was probably its own kind of torment.
Harry put both arms around Neville and patted him on the shoulder.
At that moment, Augusta quietly slipped out of the ward and went to see the doctor in charge of Neville's parents.
"Doctor Richard… there's still no hope of them waking up?"
The wizard named Richard gave a sigh and shook his head.
"You know how it is. Once the Cruciatus Curse's magic enters the brain, it's nearly impossible to heal."
"All St Mungo's can do is keep their condition from deteriorating further and lessen some of their suffering."
"And even that requires extremely careful daily care, with wizards proficient in the relevant spells having to cast them again and again."
"Madam Longbottom…"
He hesitated for a moment.
"Would you like to renew the bed fees for another year?"
Augusta took a heavy breath and nodded.
"Yes."
Richard hesitated again before speaking.
"In fact… recently there's been a new theoretical treatment."
"I can't promise it works. The chance of success may be very slight."
"But perhaps—just perhaps—there's a small possibility it could improve their condition."
"The cost, though, is very high. At minimum it would require another thousand Galleons."
"Madam Longbottom, I'm not trying to fleece you. It's just… every year I see you bringing your grandson here, and…"
Augusta's eyes lit up immediately.
Hope shone in them.
"You mean there's some chance?"
"Give me time. I'll raise the money."
Richard sighed, and there was regret in his expression.
Truthfully, he had never wanted to mention such a slight and expensive possibility to the Longbottom family at all.
But since he had spoken of it now, he did his best to explain it thoroughly.
"You can at least hear the theory behind it first."
"It involves a newly developed potion, one inspired by Wolfsbane and several other potions that have shown notable effectiveness in suppressing madness. It may be capable of producing some effect in this case as well."
But just as Richard began outlining the treatment, another voice sounded nearby, accompanied by a quiet sigh.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overhear."
"But I have to interrupt."
"That path won't work."
Augusta and Doctor Richard both froze and turned.
It was Theodore.
A slight frown creased Richard's face, and irritation showed in his eyes.
"Child, you're still a student at Hogwarts, aren't you?"
"At your age—first year? Second year?"
"Don't go thinking that just because you've learned a little magic and potion-making, you can casually point fingers at St Mungo's treatment plans. This is not something you're qualified to judge. Understand?"
At that moment, just as Theodore was about to reply, text suddenly appeared on the System screen.
[You accompany a friend to visit the Medicine King Sect, where one of its physicians is diagnosing the friend's relatives.]
[You hear the proposed treatment and immediately shake your head.]
[The Medicine King Sect physician frowns deeply and declares that this is the Medicine King Sect, first in the Dao of Medicine among all sects. Who are you, and how dare you behave so boldly here?]
[System suggestion: The host is a true disciple of the Jade Void Palace, honored guest at the seats of many Golden Immortals, and one of the future seedlings highly regarded by the Chan sect's great powers. Why waste words with a mere Medicine King Sect physician?]
[The host should immediately rebuke him—A tiny Medicine King Sect dares to call itself first in medicine? Where do you place Jade Cauldron True Person and the Daoist Supreme Lord of Chan? And you still dare mock a true disciple of the Jade Void? Insolence!]
Theodore paused, his expression a little strange.
So this really was the proof that things had changed.
In the past, whenever he encountered situations like this, the System used to advise him to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness on the spot.
And now it had become this overbearing?
Still, Theodore could never behave as the System advised.
That was far too arrogant, and arrogance was not his style.
He preferred to convince people through reason and virtue.
So he simply reached into his robes and calmly took out Ollivander's seal, Dumbledore's seal, Snape's seal, and Nicolas Flamel's letter, wearing a mild smile all the while.
"I'm Mr. Ollivander's close friend and collaborator, a friend of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, a partner of Potions Master Severus Snape, and a pen pal of the alchemical master Nicolas Flamel…"
"You may verify my words with any of the masters I've just mentioned. I believe I know a little about alchemy, potions, and medicine."
"So now… may I say a few words about the treatment plan you just described, Doctor Richard?"
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