Spear and Shield

Chapter 356 Spear and Shield (6K) (1/2)

Cedric followed closely behind, his boots rustling softly on the grass.

His gaze would occasionally drift to Professor Lynch's tall, upright figure ahead, then quickly shift back to the shimmering Black Lake or the distant Quidditch pitch. The barely suppressed curiosity and inquisitiveness on his face did not escape the watchful eye of the raven on Lynch's shoulder.

The raven's small head swayed slightly with each step, its jet-black eyes, like the purest obsidian, reflecting the moving scenery and the young Hufflepuff behind it. It captured every subtle change in Cedric's expression, the fleeting doubt in his brow, and the thoughtful glance in Lynch's eyes as he looked at his retreating figure.

Just as they crossed a slightly undulating grassy slope and were not far from the pristine white stone path, Lynch, who was walking ahead, suddenly spoke. His voice was calm and carried on the autumn wind, yet it reached Cedric's ears clearly.

"Harry Potter," he said without turning around, as if stating a trivial fact, "he called me uncle."

Cedric paused almost imperceptibly, his carefully maintained composure instantly replaced by genuine surprise. He hadn't expected Professor Lynch to bring this up so suddenly, much less such a direct and—intimate—address.

Uncle? This explains a lot of things—why Harry was in Professor Lynch's office, and why Professor Lynch spoke to Harry in a tone that was different from that of a typical teacher and student, almost like a senior guiding him.

After the initial surprise came a sense of realization, and a slight embarrassment at having his thoughts read. The professor had noticed his curiosity. Cedric's cheeks flushed slightly, but his surprise gradually subsided. He cleared his throat, unsure how to respond, and finally whispered, "—I understand, Professor."

Lin Qi then turned completely around to face him, a clear, though still faint, but genuine smile on his face, and a gentle ripple also appeared in his always deep and calm black eyes.

"Regarding this matter," Lynch's voice was softer than usual, carrying the warmth of an elder instructing a younger person, "there's no need to mention it to others. Harry already receives too much attention at school; it's always good to have less unnecessary gossip."

Cedric nodded immediately and solemnly, his eyes full of sincerity: "Of course, Professor. Rest assured, I understand, and I will never mention it to anyone else."

He could feel the care in Lynch's words, and he was happy that he could be trusted to help keep this little secret.

"Good boy." Lynch naturally reached out and gently patted Cedric's shoulder, a gesture full of an elder's approval and encouragement.

Then, he turned and looked towards the edge of the forbidden forest, his tone becoming more relaxed: "Let's go, we need to hurry, while the weather is still good."

Cedric felt a slight warmth in his heart from the word "good boy" and the gentle pat on his shoulder, and quickly followed.

They hadn't walked far when the familiar white stone path came into view. Having arrived, Cedric naturally guessed where they were headed.

After walking a distance, the woods became increasingly quiet, with only the sound of the wind and distant birdsong. Lynch slowed his pace, walking alongside Cedric, turning to look at him with a natural concern: "Diggory, it feels like just yesterday you were in seventh grade. Do you have any concrete ideas for the future? You seem very solid in all aspects; you should have plenty of options."

Cedric sensed the encouragement in the professor's words, thought for a moment, and then said, "Actually—Professor, I'm not completely sure yet. After graduation, I might want to spend some time traveling around the world, experiencing different magical cultures and magical creatures. And then—" He scratched his head somewhat sheepishly, "In the long run, I still hope to work for the Ministry of Magic and do something meaningful."

"The Ministry of Magic?" Lynch nodded, his tone showing interest. "That's a general direction. Which specific department are you interested in?"

Cedric's cheeks flushed slightly, as if he were a little embarrassed to say the word, but his eyes became exceptionally serious: "I—I want to become an Auror, Professor." He paused, his voice lowering but becoming even more resolute, "I want to use what I've learned to protect others and fight against the forces of darkness. This idea—I haven't formally discussed it with my father yet; he probably prefers me to do something 'stable,' like managing magical creatures, or doing clerical work in the Department of Law Enforcement. But I'm confident I can convince him."

"Auror?" Lynch stopped and turned to face Cedric.

His gentle smile deepened, and clear approval gleamed in his dark eyes. "This requires immense courage..."

Diggory, your ambition and sense of responsibility are admirable. Protecting others and fighting against darkness—that's a truly remarkable choice. With your character, achievements, and abilities, you are indeed well-suited for this path.

Upon receiving Lynch's clear affirmation, Cedric's eyes lit up, his previous embarrassment replaced by encouragement: "Thank you, Professor!"

Lynch nodded slightly and continued walking along the stone path, his tone becoming a little more serious, but still approachable: "Since you have this plan, then Diggory," he glanced at Cedric, "this year, you must put in a lot of effort into the 'Soul Armor' spell, truly master it, even refine it to perfection."

Cedric paused for a moment, a hint of confusion on his face.

He certainly intended to master this advanced protective magic, but what was the connection between it and becoming an Auror? He vaguely sensed that Professor Lynch's words had a hidden meaning, but he didn't fully grasp the deeper implications for the moment.

However, based on his absolute trust and respect for Professor Lynch, he immediately nodded and replied earnestly, "Yes, Professor. I understand. I will definitely work hard to master this magic; it is one of my top learning goals." He thought to himself that no matter why the professor emphasized this point, it was always right to learn magic first, and it would undoubtedly be an important safeguard for any dangerous work he might do in the future.

Lynch seemed to notice the fleeting question in Cedric's eyes, but he didn't explain further. He simply smiled faintly and turned his gaze back to the path ahead.

Cedric put aside his doubts for the time being and focused on the present.

The stone path wound its way forward, leading to an unknown place deep within the Forbidden Forest. His curiosity about Professor Lynch's residence grew stronger, and the thought of the upcoming test related to the "Soul Armor" filled him with renewed tension. This time, however, it was mixed with the exhilaration of his previous affirmation and a renewed determination to prove himself. Whatever the test might be, he would give it his all.

At the end of the pristine white stone path, the forest suddenly opened up, and a flawless white stone house appeared before Cedric's eyes.

Lynch pushed open the heavy wooden door and gestured for Cedric to come in.

Upon entering, Cedric's gaze was immediately drawn to the items displayed in the center of the room.

There was a row of specially made, thick ceramic pots arranged neatly, each containing a mandrake plant.

Their condition is immediately apparent from left to right; the size, color, and degree of curling of the leaves are clearly different. The one on the far left has only a few tender green leaves and looks very young. The further to the right, the thicker and darker the leaves become, and the more curled they are. You can even see the rootstock protruding from the soil surface, wriggling slightly.

"Mandragora?" Cedric murmured in surprise. As an outstanding student at Hogwarts, he clearly remembered what he had learned in Herbology class and knew the dangerous characteristics of this magical plant, especially its deadly cry when it matured.

"To be precise, they are mandrakes at different stages of maturity." Lynch walked to the row of flowerpots, his gaze sweeping over them. "These are the ones I found yesterday. Everyone knows that their cries, especially those of mature mandrakes, can kill instantly. In fact, this is a kind of magical attack targeting the soul. Therefore, mandrakes are the ideal stress source for us to test the protective effects of soul armor."

He turned to Cedric, his expression serious: "But the testing needs to be done step by step. We'll start with the smallest one on the far left. All you need to do is stand here, activate your spiritual armor," and defend with all your might. Remember, whatever you hear or feel, stay calm and focus on maintaining your defense."

Cedric nodded, took a deep breath, and walked to the center of the room, facing the row of mandrakes.

At the same time, Lynch raised his right hand.

"Before we begin, we need to take some extra precautions." His voice was steady as he spread his fingers and, with remarkable fluidity, drew six interconnected, intricate runes that shimmered with a pale silver light in the air, pointing towards the four corners of the room and the center of the ceiling and floor. Once formed, the runes quickly vanished into the air.

Lynch lowered his hand and explained, "Now, all sounds inside this room will be completely locked within these four walls, not a single sound will leak out. Even if the most mature mandrakes screamed here, there would only be silence outside."

Cedric nodded, reassured by the professor's meticulous preparations, and more focused on the upcoming test.

He then stopped, took out his wand, pointed the tip at himself, and silently chanted a spell until he could feel the newly formed armor deep within his soul. Only then did he silently nod at Lin Qi.

Seeing Cedric nod, Lynch raised his right hand, his index and middle fingers joined together, and flicked the tip of his finger upwards very slightly and elegantly towards the small mandrake on the far left.

An invisible, precise magic swept by.

The young mandrake seemed to be gently and swiftly pulled from the soil by an invisible hand!

"Wow--!"

A faint, instinctively unsettling whimper echoed in the room.

Cedric focused his senses, feeling as if the gentlest breeze were brushing against the skin covering his hardened armor. He clearly "felt" a touch, but his soul armor remained as solid as ever, without any fluctuation. He didn't even feel the rumored, unsettling effects.

"Very good," Lynch said calmly, flicking his fingers to carefully place the crying blade of grass back into the pot. The crying quickly subsided and stopped. "The initial screaming has no effect on you. This shows that your armor is flawlessly constructed."

The test continues.

They moved to the right one by one, and Lynch used the same precise technique to pull out the increasingly mature mandrakes in turn.

The intensity, shrillness, and chaotic magic contained within the cries gradually increased.

Cedric's expression gradually shifted from relaxed to focused, and then to slightly tense.

He could feel the invisible sound waves and magical impacts, like a gradually increasing flow of water, attempting to "soak" the protective outer layer of his soul. His soul armor continued to operate smoothly, neutralizing and dispersing most of the interference, but as the cries grew louder, Cedric began to sense a slight "pressure," as if he were in an increasingly noisy environment, requiring him to concentrate slightly to maintain inner peace, but it was far from uncomfortable.

Finally, they arrived at the third-to-last mandrake.

The leaves of this plant are already quite thick and dark green, with obvious curling, and the stems are twisting more actively.

Lynch flicked his fingertips up again.

"Whoaaaaah—!"

A loud, painful, and agitated cry rang out!

Cedric frowned slightly; this time, he clearly sensed a disturbance.

It was as if someone was forcefully striking a large drum covered with a thick cloth not far away; although there was a layer in between, the vibration and noise were definitely transmitted to him. He felt a slight, brief dizziness, like when you suddenly stand up after squatting for a long time, and his ears were ringing.

This made him involuntarily shake his head.

Just then, Lynch immediately took action, casting a Silence spell and a Soothing spell that instantly enveloped the mandrake, silencing the crying abruptly.

"Stop. The test ends here." Lynch's voice rang out steadily. He looked at Cedric, who was slightly frowning and trying to calm the momentary dizziness. "How are you feeling?"

Cedric blinked, the dizziness quickly subsiding. He sighed, "A little dizzy, Professor, just for a moment, like being lightly bumped on the head. But it'll be fine soon."

"Hmm." Lynch nodded, gesturing for Cedric to sit down and rest on a wooden chair nearby. "This is the effect of a mandrake's cry nearing maturity on your current soul armor strength—it will cause brief but distinct dizziness and discomfort. If you continue testing on the next, more mature one, the impact you feel will be much stronger."

He walked up to Cedric, his tone calm and clear: "Diggory, this is what I want you to experience firsthand. While 'Soul Armor' is a spell I specifically researched for protecting the soul, it's not a spell that grants immunity to all such damage upon mastery. Protection in the magical world, aside from specific counters and dispelling spells, is essentially a continuous struggle between spear and shield."

The strength, resilience, and affinity between your "shield" armor and your soul determine its basic defensive capabilities.

The power of the "spear"—whether it's the cry of the mandrake, the agonizing onslaught of the "Crucible" cast by a dark wizard, the Killing Curse, or other bizarre soul magic—determines the intensity of the attack based on its power, attributes, and the caster's abilities.

"Today, this nearly mature mandrake is like a spear, not yet sharp, but already possessing considerable weight. Your shield withstood it without cracking or collapsing, proving that the foundation you built is very solid and the direction is correct. But you clearly felt its impact, felt the pressure. If you were facing a fully mature, even magically enhanced, individual, or the full-force soul attack of a dark wizard skilled in this art, with the current strength of your armor, the outcome would be uncertain."

Cedric listened intently, his earlier confusion vanishing.

He wanted to become an Auror, and the enemies he would face were likely those who possessed such evil methods. Experiencing firsthand this intangible yet real attack gave him a more concrete understanding of the dangers to come.

"So," Lynch concluded, his gaze profound, "if you want to protect others and face the ruthless darkness, simply possessing this magic and remaining at your current level isn't enough. You must constantly hone it, deepen your understanding, and enhance its strength and resilience, allowing it to grow from something capable of withstanding a near-mature mandrake to something powerful enough to confront more treacherous and powerful soul threats. That's why I said that if you want to walk the Auror path, you must put in considerable effort with this magic this year. It may not make your attack spells more dazzling, but it can protect your mind from corruption at the most crucial moments, allowing you to stand firm, think clearly, and remain true to yourself in the darkness."

Cedric understood completely.

His eyes shone with an even sharper and more determined light: "I understand, Professor. Thank you. I will definitely dedicate more time and effort to making it strong enough."

Although the test was brief, it allowed him to clearly see the value of that invisible armor and the direction he needed to work on strengthening.

The road ahead seems clearer, but also more challenging, thanks to this realization.

The underground classroom was filled with a cool, damp air, mixed with the unique smell of old books and stone walls.

The light came from torches fixed to the walls, burning with steady blue flames, casting the students' shadows, long and short, onto the rough stone surface. A few minutes before class, the students in the Magic Studies class gathered in small groups, talking quietly, awaiting Professor Lynch's arrival.

The conversation naturally drifted to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class that had just started the day before yesterday, and the new, unforgettable Professor Moody.

"Merlin's beard! You didn't see it, he just... just like that, ripped that spider apart!" A Gryffindor boy whispered, but couldn't hide the excitement and lingering fear in his voice, gesturing with his hand to the name, "Crucible!" "That spider whipped me so hard—I almost had nightmares last night."

"He actually demonstrated the Unforgivable Curse!" A Hufflepuff girl, clutching her book, still visibly shocked, exclaimed. "He said it was to familiarize us with them and keep us alert, but—right in school—"

"Come on, it's better than just reading about it in books." A Ravenclaw boy crossed his arms, his tone deliberately calm. "At least now you know what that thing is actually like to use. My dad says that even though Moody is crazy, what he teaches is absolutely practical."

Whispers buzzed through the classroom, a mixture of fear, curiosity, and a certain excitement drawn to forbidden knowledge—the three spells explicitly prohibited by law and reserved for Aurors to use in specific circumstances: the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse.

Harry sat alone in the front row, his head down, staring at the dark floor, his fingers unconsciously stroking the handle of his wand, while he heard his classmates' excited yet uneasy chatter about the Moody course.

"The Unforgivable Curse—"

The word felt like a cold stone, pressing heavily on his stomach.

This wasn't the first time he'd heard about it.

He had known of their existence and their horror a year earlier, at that grave in Godric Valley.

The green light of the "Avada Kedavra" left an indelible mark on the edge of his childhood memories, or rather, on the material of countless dreams.

He knew what that green light had taken away.

James and Lily Potter, his parents, died under that curse.

Today, the names of these spells and their terrifying power are being openly demonstrated by a professor in class.

The explanation became a hot topic of discussion among students during breaks.

This feeling is strange, very—complex.

On one hand, he knew Professor Moody was teaching them to recognize danger and protect themselves. But on the other hand, hearing people talk about the magic that had taken his parents' lives with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity filled him with an indescribable bitterness and chill. It wasn't just a curse to be wary of; it was something directly connected to the deepest wound in his life.

He raised his head and glanced at the students in the classroom, some of whom were talking animatedly, others with pale faces.

Do they know?

Did they know that the "Avada Kedavra" was a curse that could so easily change the fate of others?

Can they truly understand the excruciating pain inflicted by that curse?

Probably not.

At least for most of them, no.

For them, it was more of the knowledge from books and classrooms, part of a legendary story. But for him, it was a deep-seated pain, an unfillable echo of emptiness deep within his heart as he curled up in the Dursleys' cupboard every night.

Harry took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the spotless blackboard in front of him, trying to shut out the noisy discussions and surging emotions.

Just then, the classroom door was pushed open, and the conversation seemed to be cut off, instantly falling silent until it disappeared.

All the students subconsciously adjusted their posture and turned their gaze toward the doorway.

Lynch walked in, dressed as impeccably in his grey suit as always, his face calm. The black raven on his shoulder silently took flight and landed on a corner of the high podium, its dark eyes looking down at the classroom.

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