59: Wizards Are Gods

So that was it. To think it was actually like this. Yet, it was nothing more than this.

The mist that had lingered before Ian's eyes for so long was silently dispersed in this very moment. He saw that the path ahead was not merely a single-minded climb toward the summit of the mountain.

There was also... the scenery in the sky once the clouds and fog had cleared entirely.

"Wizards are gods..."

It was abundantly clear.

This was comparing wizards to beings possessed of divine omnipotence; thus, imparting laws upon matter just like a deity would naturally became something a wizard could and should do.

"Since it is a matter of imparting new rules, why on earth would Transfiguration eventually lose its effect..." Ian did not voice the confusion lingering in his heart.

Because in the next instant, he had already figured out the answer by himself.

Wizards are gods, and the "gods" in this context were actually the inherent magic possessed by wizards from birth. Magic belonged to oneself, and therefore this was also a manifestation of supreme power resting within the self.

Any form of material distortion and the reassignment of material shapes originated from the action of magic. Magic, acting as the "god," was twisting and rewriting the decrees of the Creator.

When magic existed upon the object being transformed, it could essentially be regarded as new rules overriding the old ones, naturally granting the ability to alter everything at will.

However.

If detached from the wizard himself, magic would ultimately gradually erode and disappear, perhaps due to the material world's self-correction, or perhaps for other reasons.

In short, when the magic altering the object was completely depleted, the rules it had overridden would naturally reveal their original appearance once more, just like the moment Lily Potter died when her Transfiguration lost its effect.

Because the source of the magic no longer existed.

Even if the depletion was not yet complete.

Transfiguration still could not continue to be maintained.

"Perhaps, it is not consumption, but the return of magic?" Ian knew that to verify this hypothesis, he had only to perform a successful Transfiguration to prove it.

"Vera Verto!"

Ian picked up his wand once more and cast Transfiguration upon the match on the desk.

This time.

He discarded all the convoluted thoughts and regarded himself as the Creator.

[Successfully cast Transfiguration, Transfiguration level increased]

Ian's personal status panel changed, and so did the match on the desk. It had turned into a slender iron needle, upon which even delicate patterns were faintly visible.

"Exquisite spellcasting, a truly perfect comprehension!" Professor McGonagall could not help but exclaim in admiration, even though she had anticipated it to all along.

It seemed the Sorting Hat truly had not made a mistake.

A descendant of Ravenclaw across a millennium... simply astonishing!

"Ian! You're amazing!" Michael cheered happily beside him. With someone taking the lead, the surrounding students followed suit and applauded, whether willingly or not.

After all, these were Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

When a student from one's own house completed the assignment, Ravenclaw students would not feel jealousy, and when such a joyous occasion arose, Hufflepuffs would naturally share in the happiness.

"What on earth did the professor write just now?!"

"Is it an exclusive technique for Transfiguration?"

"Damn it! I didn't see it!"

The conversation between Ian and the professor just now had left everyone utterly puzzled. Quite a few little eagles of Ravenclaw felt deeply vexed, believing they had missed out on a special lesson.

"Thank you, Professor. I believe I understand... But this hasn't completely answered all my questions." Ian first expressed his gratitude for Professor McGonagall's guidance.

Immediately afterward.

He fixed his gaze once more on the fine needle upon the desk, falling into deep contemplation.

"The study of Transfiguration is endless, but at least you have accomplished well at this stage." Professor McGonagall nodded and turned to guide the remaining students who had yet to complete their transformations.

The classroom was exceptionally lively.

Many young wizards who had finished their Transfiguration assignment were repeatedly attempting to reverse and re-apply the transformation, while Ian kept his eyes fixed firmly on the needle upon his desk.

"A small fraction of my magic fell dormant, but it does indeed still exist within my body..." Ian felt the connection that now existed between himself and the needle on the desk.

Clearly.

Although the magic had not truly been "consumed," the "influence" contained within the magic had been continuously maintaining the form of the needle on the desk.

He could clearly perceive that if he were to sever this connection, his trace of magic would instantly break free from its dormancy, but at the same time, the "influence" imposed upon the match would vanish along with it.

The iron needle would turn back into a match.

This was an indisputable fact.

"The influence that each portion of magic can exert is actually limited. When I impose a sustained influence upon reality, the influence contained within this portion of magic is released into the real world."

"The level of a wizard's magic determines the quantity of [Influence] contained within a single portion of magic, which is also why the higher my magic level is on my personal status panel, the stronger my spells become."

On the very first day of school.

Ian's comprehension of magic reached a more profound level of awareness and understanding.

Of course.

This did not mean his previous understanding was entirely wrong.

After all, he had merely strayed onto a side path, not taken a wrong road; it was simply that he had been unable to see the more essential side of magic. This was actually related to the magic Ian had been studying all along.

Existing magic.

Was entirely the result of summaries and conclusions made by others.

They belonged to a category where one only needed to study according to the achievements of others to reach the territory those predecessors had already explored, meaning Ian had always been exploring other people's domains.

Whether it was charms.

Or the Runes of ancient wizards.

They were actually all meant to better unleash the [Influence] within magic, guiding this [Influence] toward predetermined directions and outcomes.

The Killing Curse led to death.

The Firestorm Curse led to combustion.

Nothing more.

Under the influence of such learning.

Even though Ian had already recognized the limitations of spells and the greater possibilities possessed by Runes... he had overlooked the fact that magic itself already represented infinite possibilities.

"Charms and Runes are merely methods, mere guides."

The more Ian thought about it, the more broad-minded his thinking became.

Indeed, just as Professor McGonagall had said, a wizard's magic was the foundation of the "gods." Wielding [Influence]—this was the true path to the heavens!

"Vera Verto!"

Ian wanted to verify his realization, so he softly chanted the spell once more. The shining silver needle on the desk shifted again, beginning to peel away layer by layer until it turned into wisps of green smoke.

"Whoa! It's smoke! So cool!"

"It's the exact same color as the underwear my sister wore this morning!"

The young wizards around him let out gasps of exclamation.

As for Professor McGonagall, who turned her head at the sound, she gave a violent start. Her stern face instantly turned terrified, and without a second thought, she whipped up her wand.

"Finite Incantatem!"

The spell's effect was overbearing.

The drifting smoke instantly reverted back into the original match.

"Huh?"

Ian felt the return of that [Influence] and raised his head in a daze, only to see Professor McGonagall—who had been infinitely amiable just a moment ago—charging over like a furious lioness.

"Mr. Prince! Azkaban has no age limit!"