HP: A Magical Journey-Chapter 300: This Is Sparta!!!

"This is it?" Alan asked, looking at a couple of books sitting on the table in front of them. "This is all you have got in the name of soul magic?"

Quinn nodded. He looked down at his hands resting on his lap. For the first time in a decade, Quinn felt embarrassed because of books. Ever since he had gone on the world tour, he never had a shortage of books— he would say the word, and George would have all the books from their destination in front of him the next day. Even after Quinn started attending Hogwarts, he would regularly get pamphlets from all over the world listing the new books and research journals that would give him papers on the latest advancement in magic. And then he had added a lot of lost magic into his collection from the Room of Requirement — thus dubbing his library as Babel.

But if there was something his vast collection, that he felt the most pride about, was books and tomes on soul magic— it was ridiculously hard to get anything related to soul magic, and only those who have an "in" in the exclusive circles would be able to get something— and unfortunately, Quinn wasn't in those circles.

"Yes, this is all I got."

"This is quite dismal," said Alan, not munching his words. "I mean, one of them is just completely useless; it's spiritual mumbo-jumbo." He looked up at Quinn, "You must've had it rough, child— you had no help, didn't you?"

They were in Quinn's temporary residence in New York, owned by the Wests. It was a gorgeous penthouse suite too big for the five people living in the place— Quinn, Alan (who Quinn had invited to live with him), and the three staff members to take care of Quinn's needs while he was in New York.

"Do you have some books?" asked Quinn.

"I do," said Alan, making Quinn's heart soar, "but they're back at home— unlike you, I don't make it a habit of carrying my entire library with me."

Quinn deflated in his chair. He had the Babel copier he had used in the Room of Requirements in his briefcase. If Alan had the books with him, Quinn would've created permanent copies for himself.

"Don't make that face. I'll send copies of the books I have when I get home."

"Then what should we do?" asked Quinn, smiling— delighted by the promise.

"How about we do an activity," Alan put down his teacup.

"What activity?"

"A little activity involving souls. But before we start, can you extend your senses through your soul? Because without that, we won't be able to do this activity."

"Ah, I can do that, sure," said Quinn— that's how he had found the Ravenclaw's Diadem in the piles of trash.

"Excellent, excellent. I was expecting that I'd have to teach it to you, but as expected, you're prepared. Now, pay attention with your soulsense, okay? I'm not going to tell what I'm doing, but you tell me what you can feel."

Quinn closed his eyes and tried to spread out his soul sense. It wasn't an easy process, and he couldn't trigger the state on the fly. Soul didn't want to exit the vessel called the body— it was the housing that kept the Soul safe, away from harm. His brows mashed together as the soulsense flickered, collapsing inches outside his body, but then Quinn got the correct feel, and it spread like a swift ripple.

He could feel everything in the penthouse. In the distance, he could feel three souls belonging to the staff, moving around. But he frowned because the three faraway souls shouldn't have registered first when a stronger soul was sitting feet away from him. His senses zoned in on Alan's position . . . and his soul was there, but . . . it wasn't pinging like three had done.

"Why is your soul like that? Why is it dimmed and blurred?"

"If we can hide your mindscape away, then why can't we do the same with soul," said Alan. "I haven't reached a level where I can completely hide my soul, or even seen someone who has reached that level— but theoretically, it is possible to hide a soul completely. But that's not the point here; I'm sure you'll be able to do it someday if you don't mess up.

What we will be doing for our time together is you trying to alleviate the dimness and remove the blurring."

Quinn, who had his eyes closed and focused on the soulsense, nodded. Alan was right in front of him, and it wasn't like he was completely invisible— he would have the soul and bright and sparkly by the time he had to return home.

"But why are we doing this?" he asked.

"One of the most difficult to do in soul magic is to raise a Soul's strength," answered Alan, "and in the short time we have, doing that is not possible. If we could do that, then it would've been remarkable for you to resist the curse when the time comes. So we move to a different aspect of the Soul, which is sensitivity— if you're more sensitive, you're able to feel more, able to feel earlier, and even become more sensitive to magic thus increasing your natural focus ability.

If you're able to see through my shroud, then that'd mean that your sensitivity has increased, and that would be essential for you to react faster and better to the curse's assault, increasing your chances of triumph."

Quinn nodded. Anything to hedge the odds in his favor.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

"All work, no play makes Quinn a dull boy," said Alan with rumbustious laughter.

"Don't replace my name into the saying. I'm anything but dull," said the not-so-dull boy.

"You say that, but you got frustrated when you weren't able to make any progress."

"I did not make NO progress! I made SOME progress."

It has been a couple of days since they had been doing the sensitivity exercise, but soul magic, as both of them knew, was a tricky maiden. Quinn's soulsenses still showed Alan's Soul just as blurry and dim, albeit just slight improvements.

Quinn looked at Alan with a side-eye. Quinn didn't know if it was because they had met after such a long time or because he was older now, but Alan had been teasing him a lot— much more than before when he was a child or when he was sick.

"So, where are we going today?" asked Alan.

Quinn threw the Floo powder into the fireplace, making the flames roar green.

"We are going to a special store today. Even if I didn't come to meet you because of the curse, I would have definitely come to America to visit this store."

"Special, how?"

"You know about my briefcase, right?"

"Yes, it's expanded."

While Alan hadn't been inside, Quinn had told him all about it. Especially how big and spacious it was. And even Alan had been surprised by the size that Quinn had described.

"We are going to visit the store which made it."

Quinn waved his hand, and a handful of Floo powder went into the fire, making it roar. He stepped in with a smile and spoke loudly.

"The Clinker's Room."

When Quinn stepped out from the other side, he found himself in a small room, small enough that it would only take two of his wingspans to measure one wall to the other. Quinn saw the room glow in green light with the fire roaring, so he stepped aside to allow Alan to step through.

"Oh my, this is the place you wanted to visit?" Alan said, looking around. "Doesn't look like much of a store."

Quinn ignored Alan and looked around the room excitedly. In the small empty room, three things drew his attention— the fireplace behind him, the silver door in front of him, and the thin podium in the dead center of the room.

"Come here," Quinn beckoned Alan to the podium.

"What is this?" asked Alan, looking at the podium with mild interest.

Quinn pointed at the indigo button in the middle of the podium's top and said, "Press it!"

"What does it do?"

"Something interesting!"

"Say no more."

Alan slapped his palm on the button, and instantly the walls, floors, and ceiling of the room disappeared into nothingness.

"W-What?" Alan stuttered a little as he looked around, flustered at the sudden change. Especially when he looked down and saw the absence of the floor— just like the walls and ceilings, leaving only the fireplace, podium, and the podium visible. They were high above in the air, looking down at the New York skyscrapers and buildings with roads dotted with people and cars, all looking like ants from their height.

"Oooh~, it's just as Lia said," Quinn walked to a wall and touched it, and he could feel that there was something there.

"What is this place?" asked Alan, also touching another wall, grabbing it as he looked down a few hundred feet with apprehension.

"This is—" Quinn paused when he saw something and pointed at it excitedly, "Maybe this will help you figure it out."

Alan turned and immediately saw a flock of birds flying towards them. He raised his hand with the bracelet, and immediately a shield appeared around him.

But then something unexpected happened . . . . The birds that were flying towards them like they never existed.

"Look!"

Before surprise could even register on Alan's face, he followed Quinn's voice and saw him pointing outside the room. Alan's eyes widened as he saw the same flock of birds flying away as if they had never met a room in their path.

"What happened?" Alan asked, surprise finally catching up. "Why didn't they collide with the room?"

"America is famous for their spatial magic," said Quinn and raised his briefcase that he had been holding. "My briefcase, as I said before, is American-made," he pointed around the room, "and this room is an application of spatial magic, and that's why we are hanging so high in the sky.

This room," said Quinn excitedly, "is fixed in a certain point in relative space. Now, this is just my assumption, but the creator has fixed the room relative to the buildings below— which means, as the Earth rotates and revolves, this room will move along the buildings, thus staying fixed above this part of New York— or maybe the creator fixed it with relation to the Earth itself . . . hmm, that would be so interesting."

Alan stared at Quinn, looking like Quinn's rapid and excited babble had flowed over his head. "What happens if we fall?"

"We can't fall," said Quinn. He pointed at the spot where the walls were. "The walls of the room didn't turn invisible; they have completely disappeared— they're not here," he stomped on the floor, "what we are standing currently is solidified space— and until the spells don't release the space to its natural state, we won't fall.

And as to answer your initial question as for why the birds didn't collide with us," Quinn pointed around the room, "this place is a dot-sized point in space expanded to its current size— as long as the birds or anything doesn't run into the tiny point, they can go ahead unhindered."

"And what if they do run into this point?"

"Then it would feel like they have collided into something solid, most possibly getting injured— the faster they come in, the more damage they would suffer."

"Is that dangerous? One of those flying non-magi things collide into this room? That'd be terrible, especially with MACUSA laws."

"I have the same question," said Quinn, "but there's something there stopping that because Lia told me about this place years ago, and given that it is still here, there must be some magic that prevents any collision.

As for what magic, I'll get it from the creator."

Quinn pointed at the door in the room.

"To the Clinker's Shop!"

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Alan D. Baddeley - Master - I have the hand of a "higher entity" upon me.

Quinn West - MC - ". . . I need to find a way to get to the top. What can I do here, hmm. . . ."

FictionOnlyReader - Author - Higher Entity.

Also yeah, I don't think I will be able to make the March-End deadline I was planning for myself. My attempts to achieve have failed. Though I just completed writing the sickest arc of this volume on the platform-that-must-not-be-named.

But don't worry, whatever happens, I won't be pissing away the ending. I shall give AMJ a (hopefully) good end. Then the Epilogue Volume with Prime-Quinn.