The restoration of the books was clearly a bit more difficult than Howl had imagined.
He could somewhat salvage torn pages, and even missing text was manageable, though supplementing the text required extensive knowledge, experience, and reference materials.
Of course, this was still within an acceptable range.
However… Madam Pince might have misunderstood something.
For example… mistaking him for Doctor Stephen Strange.
Pages were missing, and he didn't have the Eye of Agamotto to turn back time and restore them.
For these, he was truly powerless.
But fortunately, although the days of restoring books were somewhat monotonous, they at least gave him something to do.
Overall, his days felt quite fulfilling.
Friday, fifth floor, a breeze carrying sunlight streamed in through the window, and two sparrows chirped on the window ledge.
In the spacious office, bright candlesticks burned incessantly, and soothing smoke slowly drifted from them.
On the phonograph, a vinyl record spun continuously, and elegant piano music slowly spread from the gilded brass horn.
Howl leaned on the sofa, holding a book that needed to be restored.
This was a book about painting, with many instances of missing text.
In front of him, the Wizards Hand controlled four identical painting books or manuscripts, which were constantly being flipped through.
He was drawing knowledge related to painting from them to logically complete the book in his hand.
This is what ancient book restoration entails; in addition to various technical skills, the restorer also needs to possess a vast reserve of knowledge.
Generally speaking, he wouldn't choose this method of reading; his information processing ability was indeed sufficient, and his memory could retain the content.
However, when it came to understanding the knowledge, this reading method was undoubtedly superficial.
But if used here…
Knock knock—
"Come in!" Howl slightly propped himself up, and several books floated down in sequence, stacking on the table.
The door slowly opened, and a brown-haired girl who looked to be only fourteen or fifteen walked in.
"Hello, Professor!" She poked her head in, holding onto the doorframe, seeming a little shy.
"I'm not a Professor, is there something you need?" Howl asked.
The girl timidly whispered, "Um… I want to borrow a book. Madam Pince said the book is here and told me to come find you."
"Come in and find it yourself," Howl said, nodding, then returned his gaze to the book in his hand.
She pushed the door open and walked straight in, then looked at the pile of books around Howl, feeling a bit troubled.
"Please close the door. I have music playing here, and if it were in the library, Madam Pince would scold me," Howl's voice rang out.
"Okay." She nodded quickly, then closed the door.
Howl gently pushed a floating candlestick beside him, and the candlestick drifted over like a falling leaf, providing light for the girl.
Then, he looked at the content of the book again.
"In 1872, I decided to step out of the Wizarding World… in Le… northwest of France… I met a man named Claude… who left a deep impression on me. He truly had no technique… but miraculously, I found it beautiful… Not long after… newspapers were full of ridicule… academic circles…"
"Tsk!" Howl clicked his tongue in annoyance; restoring content from a text like this, similar to an autobiography, was very difficult. Especially since… Sebastian Hedlund—he was an unknown fellow.
Thinking this, he put down the book and suddenly noticed the girl standing directly in front of the desk.
"Is there anything else?" Howl asked, puzzled.
"Um, the book I'm looking for… is in your hand." The girl reached out and pointed to the book in Howl's hand.
Hmm?
"I didn't expect anyone in the Wizarding World to read books about painting; that's not easy," Howl exclaimed, then handed the book over.
"Yes, my family has many painters. My great-grandfather and grandfather both painted portraits for the Principal of Hogwarts," the girl said with a hint of pride, "Including this book, it was also my great-grandfather's!"
Howl was immediately surprised: "Your surname is Hedlund?"
The girl nodded: "Yes, my name is Janice Hedlund, a fourth-year Hufflepuff."
"Could you tell me about your great-grandfather? I'm restoring this book," Howl said.
Janice's face showed some difficulty: "I'm sorry, sir. This… I might not…"
Howl looked at the expression on her face and realized that there were several generations between them; how could he expect this girl to remember.
"But you can ask some magic paintings," Janice said. "Hogwarts has quite a few advanced and precious magic paintings. Although most of their memories are quickly forgotten over time, memories from the first year or two after their creation are permanently remembered."
Howl was somewhat surprised. He wasn't surprised by the issue of so-called magic painting memories, but rather that Hogwarts actually had paintings by this girl's great-grandfather.
He had already learned about the magic painting issue from other books he had just read. What magic paintings saw and heard when they were first created would be permanently stored in their memory.
For example, the portraits of the Principals at Hogwarts: before a Principal was about to retire, the painters would complete their portraits in advance and then place them in the Principal's office, allowing those portraits to learn the speech, mannerisms, and thought patterns of past Principals.
And these things would be ingrained in the very essence of those magic paintings, adding a sense of realism to them.
Paintings, of course, were also categorized by grade. The lowest grade of paintings was no different from photos developed with a developing potion or pictures printed in The Daily Prophet.
At most, they could make a glance or a smile, their figures subtly swaying, but they couldn't move between photos.
Better ones were like those on Chocolate Frog cards, but they weren't much more advanced.
As for the paintings at Hogwarts and those unique, repeatedly traversable portraits, only they could be called true magic paintings.
They had memories, thoughts, and could converse. Occasionally, they would gamble and amuse themselves with Hogwarts students, scare children who were out after hours, and even play matchmaker for Little Wizards and witches!
"Are there any paintings by your great-grandfather here?" Howl asked.
"Of course, there's one right outside your office."
"Who?"
"'Spring Outing,' it's directly opposite your main door. The painting features a girl named Anna," she said.
"What a coincidence?!" Howl raised an eyebrow, then stood up wanting to go out and confirm, but suddenly remembered something and turned back.
"Miss Hedlund, do you know what it means for a painting to 'cross boundaries'?"
The girl furrowed her brows, thought for a long while, then shook her head blankly: "I'm sorry, sir, I seem to have some impression… but I can't remember anything."
"Alright." Howl nodded and pushed open the main door of the office.
But as soon as he stepped out, he ran into Harry.
"Captain!" Harry waved, jogging quickly towards him.
"Harry, is something wrong?" Howl asked curiously.
"Hagrid… Hagrid just sent me a letter by owl. He invited me to his place this afternoon, and he also asked if you wanted to come?"
Howl shook his head, a little regretfully: "I'm sorry, I promised Professor McGonagall I'd attend their afternoon tea."
"By the way, how has this week been?"
"It's been alright." Harry thought for a moment, disappointed that Howl couldn't go to Hagrid's hut.
"But… the animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin is more intense than I imagined. Because of Hermione, when I was in the common room, I vaguely heard some unpleasant things," Harry said.
Howl nodded: "So, what's your plan?"
"If I catch them, they'll regret it," Harry said, his tone exceptionally firm.
Howl nodded and patted Harry's shoulder.
"As long as your conscience is clear, you can do it boldly, no need to worry too much!"
"As for what's outside…"
Howl calmly looked out the window, his expression filled with memories, recalling his time with Hal at the Royal School of magic.
"What my teacher did back then, I will do now."