Facing Ted's subtle hints, Professor McGonagall gave a firm shake of her head.
"No, Ted. There's no way around the time issue. You may choose a maximum of four electives, and none can overlap in schedule. That's final."
Ted felt like protesting. That's unfair, Professor!
"But, Professor," Ted said, with his best innocent voice, "I heard from some older students that there's something that can help solve scheduling conflicts?"
Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes and removed her glasses slowly. "And which unreliable source told you that?"
Ted shrank back slightly but held his ground. McGonagall sighed.
"Listen closely. I don't know what stories you've been hearing, but Time-Turners are strictly forbidden now. Nearly all were destroyed by the Ministry. They were once used, yes—but even then, very carefully, and with strict limitations."
Ted's thoughts spun. Something's off from what I remember!
He pressed again. Eventually, McGonagall gave in and explained more.
"Time-Turners were created with powerful ancient magic, possibly by goblins or older magical civilizations. They allowed the user to go back in time—but only up to five hours safely. That's the absolute limit."
She glanced out the window as she continued.
"One witch once made a mistake and went back a full century. By the time we found a way to bring her back, she had aged nearly to death. She barely lasted a few days. The disruption to the timeline caused serious chaos."
"That's why the Ministry later set a hard limit: no more than five hours, ever. But even that became unstable. After the first major Conjunction of the Spheres, time became erratic—seasons, stars, even gravity behaved unpredictably. And every use of the Time-Turner made things worse."
Ted leaned forward. "What happened then? What kind of terrible consequences?"
McGonagall gave him a long look.
"There was a wizard—claimed to be the Director of the Department of Mysteries. Said he'd been on a sanctioned mission using a Time-Turner. But when he returned, no one recognized him. His parents never even married, meaning he technically never existed. Everything he remembered—his life, his work—was erased."
Ted's eyes widened. "But how do we know he was telling the truth?"
"Three days later, he vanished. Right during an interrogation, with five Ministry officials in the room. Just disappeared. Two Seers later confirmed his story through joint divination. Everything he said was real."
McGonagall stood, walked over, and gently placed a hand on Ted's head.
"Ted, being clever is good, but don't ever forget to respect the natural laws of the world. There are limits, even for the most gifted. We are not beyond the laws of time."
When Ted left her office, he was still deep in thought.
'I've got cheats. I've got knowledge from another world. Maybe I've been getting a bit too full of myself…'
'Thanks, Professor McGonagall. A reminder like that might keep me from ending up like Voldemort—consumed by power.'
...
"Ted, you're spacing out again," Hermione nudged him as they walked.
"Oh, sorry," Ted blinked. "Just thinking about something interesting."
"Something interesting, huh?"
"One sentence."
"And what's that?"
"Time isn't about how much you have, but how you use it."
...
"AHH!" Ron screamed suddenly, dropping his chicken leg. The second-year behind him jumped so hard they flung their spoon across the hall.
Jerry gasped, clutching his chest, then started choking on a bite of cheese.
Ted, reacting fast, smacked him on the back—five sharp hits—until Jerry coughed the cheese out.
Jerry glared at Ron while trying to catch his breath. "Have you lost your mind? You nearly sent me to St. Mungo's!"
Neville quietly looked at the vegetable soup splattered on his chest and gave a solemn nod.
Ron slumped, dropping the chicken leg. "I can't do it. I just can't."
"Can't do what?" Harley asked curiously.
Neville guessed, "You mean the meditation thing?"
Ron gave a miserable nod.
Ted had shared a new, more effective method of meditation with the group. Hermione had taken to it immediately—doing some light stretching, then lying in bed and drifting into a deep, restorative sleep while meditating.
Her energy, focus, and even her spellcasting had noticeably improved.
The others also made progress. But Ron struggled.
"I was finally getting it last night," he groaned. "Found the rhythm, started slipping into it—and then some weird noise woke me up! I nearly jumped out of bed! Took me ten minutes to realize... it was my own snoring."
His friends tried not to laugh, covering their mouths or looking away.
Ted tried to stay serious. "Don't worry, Ron. You've been under a lot of stress this year. Let it come naturally. Forcing it only makes it harder."
Ted thought silently: I know you're in a rush, but you've got to be patient.
Meanwhile, Ted had been venturing into the Forbidden Forest two or three nights a week, clearing out dangerous magical creatures, gaining experience, and hoping to score some rare drops.
It took about half a month, and Ted managed to earn an extra 2,000 experience points.
Unfortunately, the card rewards were mostly underwhelming—a bunch of low-quality material cards, nothing special.
Still, there was a highlight. Ted encountered and took down an Acromantula that had strayed from its territory. And he did it with surprising ease.
Now, for reference, Acromantula are classified as XXXXX-level magical creatures—on par with dragons, and even more dangerous than trolls.
It's not necessarily about brute strength. In fact, a properly trained seventh-year student should be able to handle one—as long as they stay calm.
While Acromantula have some resistance to magic, it's not as strong as that of trolls, and nowhere near the resilience of dragons.
They're large, but not exactly tanks. Their attack power is formidable, but their speed isn't overwhelming.
The real threat? Their intelligence. Some of them can even speak.
They're masters of camouflage and ambush. In rugged terrain—like forests, cliffs, or mountain slopes—they can blend in seamlessly. You often don't see them until it's far too late.
They catch prey, inject venom that liquefies muscles and organs, and then... slurp.
And worse, they live in swarms. Not one or two—dozens. Hundreds, even.
In the wild, if a wizard catches the attention of a spider colony, their fate rests on luck and quick thinking.
Even the most daring dark wizards steer clear. Sure, Acromantula venom is highly prized, and their eyeballs are valuable in potion-making.
But their fine hair is incredibly sensitive to changes in air currents, making them nearly impossible to sneak up on. Illusion spells don't fool them. Even Invisibility Cloaks have a hard time.
Most wizards don't bother.
But Ted isn't most wizards.
Regular witches and wizards would need to cast detection charms every ten seconds just to avoid a surprise attack.
Ted, however, had psion abilities. He could naturally sense mental presences nearby.
Tiny insects weren't enough to ping his senses—their thought processes were too minimal. But something as intelligent as an Acromantula lit up his mental radar like a flare.
One night, a rogue spider that had been exiled from its colony attempted to ambush him from a tree.
But Ted picked up on its presence from more than ten meters away. Surprise? Not this time.
He quickly dispatched it.
The rewards were solid: two pints of Acromantula venom, eight shiny eyeballs, and a handful of long, armored legs.
...
May arrived, and with it, new discoveries.
---
Ding~ Talent [Knowledge of Other Worlds (Gold)] triggered:
New knowledge detected—[Love and Monsters Illustrated Guide (Green)].
The [Love and Monsters Illustrated Guide (Green)] recorded information about strange, mutated creatures in a post-apocalyptic setting.
Redeemable for 200 experience points.
---
"Love and Monsters? That's... a weird name," Ted muttered, puzzled.
He couldn't quite place the origin of this knowledge.
But it didn't feel threatening.
After all, it was only a green-level entry.
Not like [Cultivator Knowledge (Red)], which had force-fed him visions of a Taoist's entire life journey.
He needed days to recover from that one.
This one? It had "Love" in the title. How bad could it be?