Everything was so familiar, even the faint scent of mothballs in the air.
Next to the door was a wardrobe, its doors slightly ajar, filled with clothes, and underneath were some books and toys.
Books with newspaper covers, wind-up frogs with peeling paint, marbles covered in scratches, beanbags that hadn't been washed yet...
All the book covers at the orphanage were made by Vizette because he was the best and fastest at the time, a fact he remembered vividly.
Vizette instinctively tried to stand up, but almost lost his balance and fell off his wheelchair.
He quickly looked down at his thighs, where there was nothing below them, and his trouser legs fluttered gently in the wind.
"I'm back? Or... was everything that happened just a dream?"
He slowly pushed the wheelchair's handwheels, his movements somewhat clumsy.
The wheelchair moved forward smoothly until the handwheel hit the wall, at which point he remembered that he should have pulled the handbrake.
He murmured Snape's words, "When you feel darkness... the Patronus Charm can provide you with final refuge... it's a spell to protect yourself..."
Vizette smiled slightly, glancing again at his empty trouser leg. "So that's how it is? So this is the darkness in my heart. It is..."
This was indeed something he was running away from.
He could face school bullying and the cold stares of others; these were all external influences.
The inability to confront one's own shortcomings was a shackle that one imperceptibly put on oneself...
...
This was a secret known to all the children in the welfare home;
People who could stay in welfare homes indefinitely often had various deficiencies in some aspect;
Only healthy children were more likely to be adopted;
It was cruel, but it was a reality. Adoption also required a lot of costs, and a child with disabilities would multiply those costs.
...
Learning became his last resort; it was an extremely pure goal that drove him to continue living.
Only through their own efforts could they break free from the shackles of their disability and leave the welfare home.
This was why he had such a thirst for knowledge...
At that moment, he understood many things.
So this was what the soul was?
"Now that we're back, let's make the most of this trip!"
Vizette let out a soft breath; he could still feel the protection from those positive emotions.
At this moment, he didn't need to solve any difficult problems; he only needed to face his past and review everything that happened in his previous life.
He tried hard to recall that past, a past he had subconsciously forgotten because of the time travel.
Now it seemed that accepting all of this wasn't so difficult.
Without past experiences, there would be no who you are today...
Vizette became more and more skilled at pushing the handwheel, and his speed increased. He was even able to glide in beautiful arcs when turning.
This was something he used to find difficult to do.
Compared to the somewhat stiff expressions of those around him, he, with a faint smile on his face and pushing his wheelchair forward, seemed a bit like an oddity.
"In some ways, we are indeed outliers, but we share the same origin."
He thought of the story Ollivander shared, the origin story of wizards and Muggles.
The experiences of two worlds were truly merging...
When everything was integrated, the soul naturally manifested itself.
...
Vizette wandered around the orphanage again and again until night fell before returning to his dormitory.
There was a thick stack of exam papers and various reference books.
These were the reference books and test papers he used during his exam preparation.
"This is the last stop... To be honest, one moment I was thinking about the exam, and the next I was thinking about how to survive in the new world..."
"I don't seem to have felt that most peculiar sensation. Death... what exactly is it like to experience? I'm very curious!"
He pushed the handwheel, and the wheelchair slowly moved forward, stopping precisely in front of the exam paper, not a point more or less.
At this moment, his heart was filled with an unprecedented peace and harmony.
At that moment, he truly embraced himself and fully accepted himself.
I can accept any flaws or other issues.
Face your own soul.
Vizette picked up his pen and, just as he always did when he took notes, slowly began working on the exam paper.
One photo after another, until his vision became blurry, until his vision flickered between light and shadow, yet he persisted, just as he had done before.
Then everything went black...
...
It was dark all around, but Vizette could sense that an archway had appeared in front of him, an extremely ancient archway.
Dilapidated and covered with all sorts of strange runes, it seemed to have been through a great battle;
It was a solitary archway, strangely standing without any supporting walls.
A similarly tattered black curtain hung there, swaying gently, drawing ever closer to him...
"So this is what you see before you die?" Vizette's expression remained unchanged as he exerted all his strength to sense everything around him.
This was also rare knowledge. Even if he couldn't understand it now, he could savor it in the future and ponder its mysteries.
The moment you passed through the archway and curtains was extremely cold; every part of you, inside and out, was filled with a chill that could pierce your soul.
He saw a gray world through the curtains, and could vaguely glimpse a skull;
The skull seemed to see Vizette as well. Vizette felt the chill intensify, as if something was hurtling towards him.
He passed through the curtains too quickly; before he could even see what was happening, the archway and curtains had vanished.
The chill disappeared, replaced by a warmth emanating from within.
It was as if a sun had sprung from his soul, bringing him endless warmth, warming his body, and warming even more...
...
"Expecto Patronum!"
The chanting had just ended when his lips closed.
Those positive emotions burned like the sun, burning eternally, and a torrent of experiences rushed in...
The story of Headmaster Dumbledore began with that cluster of firelight;
Luna's story began in that sunlit hospital room;
My experience with Professor McGonagall began with that Book of Admittance.
The story of Xenophilius began with that night's conversation...
No matter what kind of experience it was, it seemed that positive emotions could be extracted from it...
...
Countless silver wisps of mist emerged from the tip of the wand, transforming into a sun-like entity, yet possessing a quiet, ethereal beauty.
Almost the instant the silver mist appeared, the Dementor, who was Boggart in disguise, let out a strange cry, staggered back two steps, and tripped over the long cloak draped over him.
After the silvery mist scared Boggart away, it continued to spread outwards, seeping through windows and squeezing through door cracks...
It seemed they didn't even spare the cracks in the walls, as if they wanted to illuminate the entire Hogwarts Castle and the whole Scottish Highlands.
The fading afterglow of the setting sun seemed to receive some kind of replenishment, adding a touch of warmth.
…
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