Ocevia: "Can you stop talking already?"Sylby: "Whoever possesses this library can attain supreme wizarding power. Compared to that, rights, wealth, and fame are all at one’s fingertips."

  Ocevia suddenly grabbed him by the throat and roared, "Are you insane? Does the Unforgivable Vow mean nothing to you?"

  Hoffa, hidden in the woods, was shaken. He slowly turned around.

  Sylby was nearly strangled, his pale face turning blue.

  "Let him go," Hoffa took a few steps forward.

  Sylby managed a weak smile, while Ocevia, unusually flustered, did not loosen her grip.

  "Let him go," Hoffa sneered. "What secrets are so dire they can't be spoken? Are you pnning to kill him?"

  Furious, Ocevia finally removed her hand.

  Sylby gasped heavily for air, "Thank you."

  "So, there’s a library with hundreds of forbidden spells in it?" Hoffa asked incredulously.

  "All of them, from a thousand years ago," Sylby replied.

  Hoffa was momentarily silent.

  A library of forbidden spells? Secrets sealed a millennium ago.

  Hundreds of top-tier spells from ancient wizards.

  For a wizard, such a pce would be nothing short of unimaginable. Hoffa didn’t need to guess its significance.

  If such a pce truly existed, it would be akin to a repository of wizarding "nuclear weapon" blueprints.

  Even someone as wise as Dumbledore was drawn to the secrets of the Deathly Hallows in his youth. If this library existed, how many wizards would fight tooth and nail to cim it?

  Steadying himself, Hoffa asked again, "And what does this have to do with you being hunted?"

  Sylby: "The forbidden spell library was sealed a thousand years ago, and the keys were entrusted to three families for safekeeping. But ambitious individuals never disappear."

  Sylby colpsed to the ground, gnced at Ocevia, and chuckled softly. "The war is about to begin. Everyone wants to win. Those top-tier wizards and organizations will stop at nothing to gather power for their own ends."

  Shaking his head, Sylby continued, "The British wizarding world is no exception. That’s why Miss Ocevia is here—she wants to get her hands on one of the keys to the library."

  "Enough! You've said too much," Ocevia interrupted sternly, clenching her fists.

  "Can you let him finish?" Hoffa raised an arm, stopping her. "And what does this have to do with you being hunted? Killing you wouldn’t give them anything, would it?"

  "That’s a question for the dy beside you."

  Sylby, sprawled on the ground, tilted his head back. "If Miss Ocevia weren’t here, they might have just captured me, kept me alive to interrogate me about the library's location and the keys. They might not have even found me in the first pce—since I’m a Squib."

  "But because of her, ha… ha… cough, cough…"

  Sylby suddenly let out a cold ugh, followed by violent coughing, specks of blood flying from his lips.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Still… fine. I’m no wizard, but Apparition takes a heavy toll on me."

  Looking at his deathly pale face, Hoffa didn’t believe him.

  After the coughing subsided, Sylby continued, "If I can’t have it, then naturally, no one else should either. Don’t you think?"

  "Are you done yet?"

  Ocevia’s face was dark with anger.

  Sylby closed his mouth, a faint sneer on his lips.

  Pointing at Sylby, she turned to Hoffa. "I remember your only goal was to earn a living, wasn’t it? So, do you still pn to achieve it or not?"

  Both of them stared at Hoffa, waiting for his decision.

  Hoffa stepped forward, bent down, and hoisted Sylby onto his back. He looked at Ocevia.

  She threw a map at him.

  As the sun rose high, they left the forest.

  After walking for half an hour, with Ocevia’s figure disappearing around the bend in an orange grove, Hoffa finally turned his head and muttered through gritted teeth, "Fifty Galleons, you’re something else."

  Sylby chuckled, "What, did you think I’d spend 5,000 Galleons to have the headmaster of Hogwarts escort me home?"

  Ocevia poked her head out. "No whispering!"

  Fearing another assassin attack, Hoffa avoided entering the town. They stuck to deserted outskirts.

  Ocevia led them along rugged mountain paths, occasionally stopping to hand the map to Hoffa and let him determine their direction.

  Sylby was in terrible shape, frequently coughing violently. Fortunately, Ocevia knew a bit about herbal medicine and gathered some along the way to treat him, keeping his condition from worsening further.

  Walking along the coastline, Hoffa had an endless orange grove to his left and the vast expanse of the Mediterranean Sea to his right.

  The scenery was picturesque, but trekking through the wilderness wasn’t particurly enjoyable—especially with Sylby on his back. While Sylby was light, he was still a living person.

  Hoffa had to periodically draw power from magic crystals to sustain his strength, ensuring they didn’t fall behind schedule.

  He even considered transforming into a Thunderbird to fly Sylby to Barcelona quickly, but it wasn’t practical.

  The st time he transformed, it had cost him five bottles of mana restoration potions and sted less than three minutes.

  More importantly, after surviving an assassination attempt, Hoffa no longer underestimated any Muggle. He needed to conserve his magic for self-defense.

  As for having Ocevia carry Sylby?

  Hoffa found the idea ughable.

  Ever since Sylby had revealed the secret about the library, Ocevia hadn’t shown either of them a kind face.

  Other than exchanging a few words during their alternating night watches, she remained mostly silent.

  When they were hungry, she would forage for fruits or hunt wild game, demonstrating survival skills akin to a Muggle special forces soldier.

  Otherwise, she spent her time sitting on rocks meditating or repeatedly reading an old newspaper she carried.

  Her only apparent enjoyment came from bathing. Whenever they passed a river or ke, she would take a bath.

  She didn’t even mind if Hoffa saw her bathing, but the scene was far from alluring—in fact, it was somewhat terrifying.

  When she entered the water fully clothed, Hoffa could only see a ten-meter-long green serpent gliding silently through the ke.

  On the evening of July 5th, after crossing a mountain ridge, Hoffa could see towering peaks in the distance.

  It was the Pyrenees, marking the border of Spain and France. In the dim light of dusk, the mountains appeared like the silhouette of a disrobing maiden. They were nearing the end of their journey.

  Hoffa lowered Sylby from his back and pced him on a rock, adjusting his posture slightly.

  Before long, the eerie stillness of the area was broken by a peculiar rustling sound, reminiscent of branches rubbing together.

  A tall figure emerged from the woods—it was Ocevia, returning.

  A small green snake slithered beside her, dropping a rabbit at Hoffa’s feet before coiling back onto Ocevia’s shoulder.

  “How far are we from Barcelona now?” Ocevia asked.

  Hoffa pulled out the map and checked.

  “Not far. We should arrive by tomorrow.”

  As Hoffa studied the map, Ocevia gnced sideways at Sylby and asked, “Are you sure your family will meet you at the station in Barcelona?”

  “Of course.”

  Sylby replied confidently, “There’s a dedicated route leading directly to our family’s residence in Andorra. However, I’ll need to make a call when we arrive in Barcelona; otherwise—”

  “Will they bring the key to the library?”

  Ocevia interrupted him.

  “They will, as long as I make the call,” Sylby replied helplessly.

  Ocevia stared at Sylby for a moment.

  “Good.”

  With that, she turned and left. Hoffa knew she was going off to transform into a snake and bathe again.

  After finishing his usual chores, Hoffa carried Sylby closer to the fire.

  Just as he was about to get up to call Ocevia back for dinner, Sylby stopped him.

  “Wait a moment. Stay and chat with me for a bit.”

  Hoffa sat down. “What is it?”

  “I have a money pouch on me. Could you get it for me?”

  Hoffa felt around Sylby’s bnket and found a small leather pouch near his waist.

  Opening it, he saw a pile of gold Galleons inside.

  “Take it. It’s your payment,” Sylby said with a smile.

  "But we haven't reached Barcelona yet," Hoffa frowned.

  "Does it matter? Or are you pnning to take the money and run, leaving me alone in the forest?"

  Hoffa stared at the fmes without responding. He wouldn’t do that, of course, but he hadn’t expected to complete his task so suddenly.

  Unknowingly, he had secured the magic crystals and earned enough money for next semester’s expenses.

  Sylby said, "By the way, let me show you something interesting."

  "What is it?"

  "Open the pouch."

  Following Sylby's instructions, Hoffa opened the small leather pouch. At first gnce, there didn’t seem to be anything unusual—just a stack of gold Galleons.

  "There’s a hidden compartment inside the pouch."

  Hoffa looked more closely and noticed a small concealed yer in the middle. Reaching inside, he felt a hard object.

  It was an old, weathered gold coin.

  The coin's front depicted a woman wearing a crown and holding a bance scale. The reverse was engraved with a ring of intricate text.

  The characters were delicate but entirely incomprehensible to him.

  Hoffa turned his head in surprise. "This..."

  "Latin," Sylby expined. "It means 'Seek the light in the darkness.'"

  Sylby continued, "After losing my wheelchair, I only have 20 Galleons in cash left, still 5 short. But I never leave debts unpaid. So, I’m giving you one of our family’s commemorative coins. Some collectors might pay as much as 100 Galleons for it."

  Hoffa paused, his fingers fiddling with the coin as he raised an eyebrow. "If you’re trying to get me to do something else for you, I won’t agree. I’m only taking you to Barcelona Station—nothing more."

  Sylby sighed in frustration. "So you still won’t agree to be my official secretary?"

  Hoffa chuckled, shaking his head. "This is the third time you’ve asked. With your resources, hiring a secretary is a piece of cake. You could easily hire twenty models as your secretaries. Why me?"

  "No, you're different from them."

  "It’s just as easy to find a wizard. Plenty of poor wizards out there—not just me."

  "You really shouldn’t return to Hogwarts this year," Sylby interrupted him.

  "Why not?" Hoffa tilted his head, surprised.

  "This year, that school could become the most dangerous pce on Earth. You shouldn’t go back."

  "How dangerous?"

  "A battlefield for hyenas and lions, a whirlpool of ambition and desire. Hoffa, you don’t belong there."

  The campfire crackled as the flickering light cast shifting shadows over Sylby’s face.

  Hoffa stared at Sylby for a long moment, then suddenly burst into ughter.

  "What’s so funny?" Sylby asked.

  "Do you... does your family have house-elves?"

  "No, of course not. I never use such creatures. My family’s servants are all properly paid employees," Sylby replied, puzzled.

  Hoffa suppressed his ughter, shaking his head.

  "Thanks for your concern, but I’m not dropping out. It’s as simple as that."

  (End of Chapter)

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