Chapter 407

Chapter 407: Chapter 407

Two days later.

The setting sun dipped below the horizon as the sky slowly shifted from deep purple in the east to orange-red in the west. It looked as though someone had splashed two different pigments across a vast canvas, then blended them together with a brush where they met.

In the twilight, the light and shadows within the mountain forest softened.

The treetops that had gleamed brilliantly beneath the midday sun now seemed draped in a thin veil of gold.

Lynn stood in a clearing halfway up the mountain and surveyed his surroundings.

The terrain was excellent.

Behind him rose a steep rock wall covered in moss and tangled vines, concealing the clearing from anything flying overhead.

Dense bushes grew to either side, followed by waist-high wild grass and, beyond that, towering ancient trees.

Ahead stood a massive protruding boulder, with several crooked pines growing along its edge. Their branches and foliage blocked half the view, leaving only a narrow gap barely wide enough for someone to squeeze through sideways.

When Lynn left the Goblin Kingdom two days ago, he could have simply asked Levi to use Apparition and take him directly back to Hogwarts.

After receiving the enhancement from the Ancient Magic within the ruins, his magical power had more than doubled.

Repairing the Time-Turner was now within reach.

However, he was in no hurry to return.

He had already spent so long in this era that another day or two wouldn’t make any difference. Thus, he decided to treat the journey as a vacation, sightseeing as he traveled toward Hogwarts.

Along the way, he actually encountered several remarkable creatures that had already gone extinct in modern times.

On the morning of the first day, he discovered a lion with a mane of fire in a swamp.

The creature was considerably larger than an ordinary lion, and its golden fur shimmered brilliantly beneath the sunlight. Most striking of all was its mane. Rather than ordinary hair, it consisted entirely of inextinguishable golden flames.

Those flames burned around its neck, stretching from its chin to its chest and from its chest down to its belly.

Lynn managed to obtain some strands from its mane.

That afternoon, he discovered a Thunderbird on a high mountain meadow.

Thunderbirds were even more difficult to encounter than lions with flaming manes. They flew at incredible altitudes.

But even that hadn’t stopped Lynn from plucking a few of its tail feathers.

He had also encountered an Umbrabuck.

Lynn found it in a valley perpetually shrouded in dense fog.

Its antlers were exceptionally valuable.

When ground into powder and added to an Invisibility Potion, they could double its effectiveness. When forged into an amulet, they allowed the wearer to see through fog as clearly as if it were broad daylight.

By now, the sun had already vanished behind the mountain ridge.

Lynn took out the venison he had hunted earlier that day. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to kill the Umbrabuck, so he had hunted an ordinary deer instead.

After washing the meat with clean water, he placed it over the campfire and slowly rotated it above the flames.

The venison sizzled as it roasted. Fat seeped from the meat and dripped into the fire with a hiss, sending thin wisps of blue smoke curling into the air.

A mouthwatering aroma gradually filled the clearing.

The surface of the venison turned golden, then lightly charred, and finally a rich, deep brown.

Lynn used a short knife to slice into the thickest part of the meat.

The moment the blade cut through, a burst of steam escaped from the opening, carrying an even richer fragrance.

The meat inside was pink, while the edges were golden brown and crisp. Juices ran along the blade and dripped into the campfire with a series of sizzling hisses.

Lynn swallowed.

He turned the venison several more times until its exterior was crisp, its aroma rich, and its surface glistened with fat. Only then did he remove it from the fire and place it on a stone slab he had created using Transfiguration.

"Mmm..."

The moment he bit into it, warm juices bursting with smoky, spicy flavor spread across his tongue.

The outer layer was so crisp that it produced a faint crunch beneath his teeth, followed by a delicate crackle.

Lynn sat cross-legged beside the campfire and devoured the meal without the slightest concern for his image.

Holding a large deer leg in his left hand and a short knife in his right, he occasionally sliced off a small piece, tossed it into his mouth, chewed twice, swallowed, and released a satisfied sigh.

"Delicious," he muttered.

He cut himself another piece.

Just then, Lynn abruptly raised his head and looked toward the northern sky.

Someone had triggered the protective magic he had placed around the clearing.

He set down the venison and rose to his feet. One hand slipped into his pocket while his wand slid into the palm of the other.

His gaze pierced through the pine branches and fixed upon the northern horizon.

A streak of white light was rapidly approaching.

The light was long and substantial, trailing a rainbow-colored glow through the twilight.

Then the radiance faded.

A figure suddenly appeared in the clearing, little more than a dozen meters away.

Warm, hearty laughter rang out. The voice possessed a unique charm as pleasant as a spring breeze, yet the speaker made no attempt to conceal the heroic spirit surging through his words.

"I’ve been searching for you for quite some time! I chased you all the way from the Goblin Kingdom and even dealt with several goblin pursuers for you along the way..."

"You certainly caused quite a commotion in the Goblin Kingdom!"

Lynn stood beside the campfire and watched as the figure approached.

"Oh?"

The newcomer stepped into the firelight, stopped, and sniffed the air. His gaze immediately fell upon the steaming venison.

"That smells wonderful. As it happens, I’m starving."

He raised his head, looked at Lynn, and grinned brilliantly.

"Could you spare me a deer leg?"

Lynn stared at the man before him in surprise.

He was tall and powerfully built, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Standing there, he resembled a straight and sturdy oak tree. His short, slightly curly hair was wine-red, gleaming like rubies in the firelight.

He wore a scarlet robe embroidered with a golden lion.

There was no need for further explanation to identify him.

Godric Gryffindor.

The last of the Four Founders Lynn had yet to meet.

Gryffindor stood beside the campfire, looked at Lynn, glanced at the venison, then turned back to Lynn.

"You must be Lynn. When I returned to Hogwarts, I heard Helga speaking about you."

A smile curled across his lips.

"She sounded rather proud. She claimed that all the students in my house combined couldn’t compare to you."

Lynn was taken aback.

"At first, I didn’t believe her—"

Gryffindor’s hearty laughter rang out once more.

"But when I arrived at the Goblin Kingdom, I heard that you had infiltrated Ragnuk’s vault and killed him while surrounded by an entire group of dragons. Truly impressive!"

Lynn opened his mouth to respond, but Gryffindor had already strode forward and clapped him twice on the shoulder.

"How could such an outstanding student not be Sorted into Gryffindor? It makes no sense!"

With that, he burst into laughter again.

Then his gaze shifted from Lynn’s face to his waist.

The Sword of Gryffindor rested there within its scabbard.

Gryffindor’s eyes lit up.

He reached out and drew the sword from Lynn’s waist.

The blade slid free with a crisp metallic ring.

With a flick of his wrist, the sword spun through his hand and traced an arc through the air. He spun it again, creating an even wider arc.

His movements were swift and fluid. In his hand, the sword seemed to come alive, as though it possessed both life and soul.

Then Gryffindor pulled back his wrist, leveled the blade with its tip pointing forward, and executed a textbook thrust.

"Whoosh!"

The sword pierced the air with a sharp whistle.

Gryffindor withdrew the blade and gazed down at his reflection upon its surface.

"Truly a fine sword."

He fell silent for a moment, seemingly lost in old memories.

"When I found it, it had already shattered into several pieces. The blade itself was damaged beyond recognition."

His finger gently slid along the spine of the sword.

A thin, nearly invisible line ran across the metal—the trace left behind by its reforging. The goblins’ craftsmanship had concealed it almost perfectly, and it could only be seen from a particular angle beneath the right light.

"I thought it could never be repaired, but Ragnuk told me that a broken sword could always be reforged."

Lynn looked at him and remained silent for a moment.

"Ragnuk intended to keep the sword for himself," he said. "He even had a fake made specifically to deceive me."

Gryffindor nodded.

"Goblins can never suppress their greed."

He pursed his lips in a faint smile.

"Don’t worry. I’ve already warned the new Goblin King. They won’t cause you any more trouble."

Lynn’s eyebrows twitched.

"The new Goblin King?"

Gryffindor thought for a moment.

"I believe his name is Samael. I’m not particularly familiar with him."

Lynn fell silent.

Good grief.

After all his hard work, he had actually done that old fellow Samael a favor.

Gryffindor sheathed the sword, then glanced toward the venison again.

"It really does smell wonderful."

He raised his head and looked at Lynn.

"I’ve traveled a long way to find you, and I’m starving. Could I have some?"

"Of course," Lynn replied. "I’m almost full anyway."

Gryffindor didn’t stand on ceremony.

He sat beside the campfire and rested the sheathed sword across his lap. Then he drew a small silver-white knife from his waist, cut off a large piece of deer leg, skewered it on the knife’s tip, and brought it to his mouth.

"Mmm—delicious."

He took another bite, chewed twice, swallowed, and released a long breath of satisfaction.

"It’s been a long time since I last ate roast meat this delicious."

He turned to Lynn.

"But how can anyone eat meat without wine?"

Gryffindor untied a flat crystal flask from his waist.

The liquid inside was deep amber, shimmering with a warm luster in the firelight.

A silver cap sealed the flask. Four words were engraved upon its surface:

Dragon Blood Fire Brew.

Presumably, the name described what the wine had been brewed from.

Gryffindor pulled out the stopper.

"Pop!"

A soft sound rang out.

Then—

A powerful aroma of wine burst into the air.

Lynn’s nose twitched.

Several distinct scents mingled within the fragrance.

The first was the sweet aroma of malt, rich and pure, as though someone had opened a sack of freshly roasted grain directly in front of him.

The second was the mellow scent of oak, deep and heavy, reminiscent of stepping into a wine cellar where barrels had been aging for decades.

The third was a complex fragrance Lynn had never encountered before.

Gryffindor handed him the flask.

"You should try some!"

Lynn accepted it, tilted his head back, and took a small sip.

As soon as the liquid entered his stomach, his internal organs felt as though they were being gently massaged by a large, tender hand.

His entire body relaxed.

A warm current spread outward from his stomach, flowed through his blood vessels, and reached his limbs, fingertips, toes, and even every inch of his scalp.

Lynn released a long breath.

"Good, isn’t it?" Gryffindor asked with a wink. "I traveled through Gaul and sampled no fewer than a hundred different wines along the way, but this one is still the best."

Lynn took another sip before eagerly asking, "Professor Gryffindor, where did you buy this wine?"

"I didn’t buy it," Gryffindor replied proudly. "I obtained it from a merfolk tribe in the Mediterranean. Those merpeople are all geniuses when it comes to brewing wine, let me tell you..."

The moment wine entered the conversation, Gryffindor opened up completely.

He began regaling Lynn with amusing stories from his travels abroad, back when he had gone around challenging foreign wizards.

Stories such as which master’s son wasn’t actually his biological child, among other scandalous matters...

Sure enough, gossip was simply human nature.

Even Godric Gryffindor was no exception.

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