The moment Theodore sensed the transformation in the Eight-Nine Mystical Art, his face immediately lit up.
Today was truly a day of double blessings.
The Eight-Nine Mystical Art had nine revolutions in total. With every revolution, the body grew stronger, and the various arts of transformation became more refined and more profound.
According to legend, if one could ever cultivate the art to its full nine revolutions, one's body would rival that of the ancestral witches of the primordial age while also inheriting many of the transformation arts of the demon races. It would truly become an all-wondrous, all-encompassing supreme body.
But as far as Theodore knew, even in the primordial world, among the great powers who had cultivated the Eight-Nine Mystical Art—figures such as Yuan Hong of Mount Mei or Yang Jian—none had ever approached the level of nine revolutions.
Yuan Hong had perished within the Investiture War. Though his foundation had been extraordinary, in the end he had only been able to walk once upon the God List, his future path completely severed.
As for Yang Jian, though he later became famed for sanctifying the flesh and was mighty beyond compare, the distance between him and the ninth revolution was probably immeasurable.
Thus, the so-called Nine Revolutions of the Mystic Art was, in truth, more the ideal final state of the technique than something anyone had ever truly achieved.
But Theodore was still immeasurably far from such a level.
Not to mention nine revolutions—even the first revolution was enough to fill him with wild delight.
Because once the first revolution was complete, it would not merely cause his flesh to skyrocket in power and his defensive abilities to surge once again.
It would also grant him an astonishing property—
undying flesh.
Even if his head were severed, a new one could regrow in the space of a breath.
As for things like severed limbs or shattered organs, those hardly counted as injuries anymore. His survival ability had soared to an absurd level.
At that moment Theodore cast aside all distractions and drove the Eight-Nine Mystical Art with all his strength.
With the aid of the Microscopic Heavenly Eye, together with the Mystic Exegesis of the Great Art talent he had obtained, his comprehension was already outstanding even among his peers in the primordial world.
Very quickly, he opened his mouth and let out a clear cry.
Blood energy surged from him in torrents, rushing straight into the sky, while golden light eclipsed the sun and moon.
The First Revolution of the Eight-Nine Mystical Art was complete.
In the next instant, Theodore felt a boundless force rise from every bone, every tendon, every drop of flesh and blood in his body. His physical form, already far beyond mortal limits, became stronger still.
And even more astonishingly, the golden light from Adamantine Undying Body now began to merge for the first time with his own flesh.
It gave him the distinct sensation of truly possessing a golden body of gods and Buddhas.
A look of realization flashed through Theodore's eyes.
"The path of the Eight-Nine Mystical Art was always a fleshly path to sainthood."
"And the Adamantine Undying Body is itself one of the fruits of bodily sainthood."
"So now it has something of the feeling of reversing cause and effect."
But very quickly he stopped caring about such details.
Whatever the explanation, what mattered was simple—
he had become stronger.
Now that his body had surged and the golden light had fused into his flesh, giving him something like a divine and Buddha-like golden body, Theodore felt as though any future calamity could simply be met head-on and blocked by that body.
With this, together with the protection of the Purple-Gold Crown of Auspicious Clouds, even the deeply hidden horrors of the magical world could no longer truly threaten him.
Ordinary waves of madness could no longer even break through his fleshly defenses, much less contaminate him.
"And besides…"
Theodore drew in a breath, then suddenly raised two fingers like a sword and slashed straight across his own arm.
In the next instant, one gleaming golden arm was severed and fell away.
But Theodore merely took the detached arm and pressed it back to the wound—
and it rejoined completely at once.
In truth, even if he had not reattached it, a new arm would have grown within seconds.
The same was true even for his head.
And Theodore did not feel the slightest real loss from any of it.
Even if his arm were severed dozens of times, the speed of recovery would scarcely slow.
This kind of vitality already surpassed any magical creature known to the magical world by an absurd margin.
At that moment, a thought suddenly came to him.
"The Killing Curse is said to mean certain death on contact. When I first entered Hogwarts, I was quite wary of it."
"At the time, even with the Adamantine Undying Body, my cultivation was still so shallow that a single Killing Curse could have seriously injured me."
"But now, compared with then, my strength is as heaven is to earth."
"Perhaps… it is time to test the true power of the Killing Curse."
Once the thought formed, Theodore did not hesitate.
He raised his wand, pointed it at himself, and spoke the incantation dreaded throughout the magical world.
"Avada Kedavra."
An instant later, a blazing green light screamed toward him.
But as the Eight-Nine Mystical Art revolved on its own, a layer of golden radiance rose over his body.
The green curse dissolved in the span of a breath.
It did not even scratch his skin.
Theodore let out a quiet breath and was not surprised in the least.
"The Killing Curse may be called death itself, but in the end, it is only a spell of the magical world."
"The Eight-Nine Mystical Art, on the other hand, is a profound art that could roam freely even in the primordial world, one that countless immortals and gods were unable to suppress or kill."
"Once it has even the slightest success, how could a Killing Curse possibly do anything to it?"
And when Theodore examined himself more closely, he discovered something else.
After achieving the first revolution, his lifespan now carried a seemingly endless, flowing sensation.
Living ten thousand years would likely be a trivial thing.
He could not help but sigh.
"With only the first revolution, I can survive decapitation, treat the Killing Curse as nothing, and possess a lifespan beyond ten thousand years."
"Voldemort went to unbelievable lengths to make Horcruxes. Yet even wrapped in all kinds of magical protections, a Horcrux still cannot truly escape the erosion of time. Lasting a thousand years would already be impressive."
"As for survival ability… hah. He claims that as long as the Horcruxes remain, he cannot die. Yet a single rebounding Killing Curse reduced him to that miserable state."
"And once someone identifies the weakness in his Horcruxes, a handful of schoolchildren who have not even graduated can take his life."
Theodore shook his head and arrived at his verdict regarding Horcruxes.
"As a technique, Horcruxes are beneath contempt."
Then he stepped away from the deep reaches of the Forbidden Forest.
…
By noon that very day, Theodore and the others had followed Neville's invitation and arrived at the Longbottom estate.
Augusta Longbottom received them warmly. She was, of course, Neville's grandmother and the one currently holding up the entire Longbottom family.
The instant she saw Neville, her eyes reddened, and she pulled him into an eager embrace.
Neville himself looked completely at a loss.
In all his memory, his grandmother had always been sharp-tempered, especially when it came to his absent-mindedness and mistakes.
Even on the day she had sent him off to Hogwarts, she had never hugged him so warmly.
But as Augusta looked at Neville now, her eyes were full of emotion.
"This feels almost like a dream."
"Neville, you have no idea how many times I worried you would fail out of Hogwarts and Dumbledore would send me a letter telling me you had been expelled."
"I've had that nightmare more than once."
"If that had happened… I truly wouldn't have known how to face Frank and Alice."
"Thankfully, you've done well."
"The traditions of the Longbottom family haven't been wasted in you."
Then Augusta turned toward Theodore and the others, her eyes growing gentle and affectionate.
"So these are Neville's friends?"
"Merlin above, I truly never imagined Neville would be able to invite so many friends."
"I've heard everything Neville wrote in his letters. You've all helped him a great deal."
"And Theodore especially—if not for you, I suspect my grandson would still be getting pushed around by everyone."
Theodore shook his head.
"Neville already possesses remarkable talent."
"Even if I had never pushed him forward, sooner or later he would still have become a great wizard."
"After all, he is the heir of the Longbottom family."
"And the Longbottoms have never produced cowards. Isn't that right?"
Those words made Augusta smile even more brightly, and she welcomed them all with the utmost warmth.
The meal she prepared was lavish beyond measure.
Every kind of dish one could imagine was set out before them.
But Theodore noticed one detail.
Though the Longbottom estate still retained its ancient furnishings and all the heraldry that symbolized old family prestige, there were no house-elves in sight.
The entire table of food had clearly been prepared by Augusta alone.
That alone told Theodore that the Longbottom family's situation was not especially comfortable.
After all, not every pure-blood family was like the Malfoys, the Blacks, or the Potters.
The Potters, at the very least, had once possessed a hair-care potion formula that had made them enormously wealthy.
The Longbottoms seemed to have no industry so profitable.
And after all these years of paying for Neville's parents' treatment, their circumstances were likely strained.
Naturally, Theodore had no intention of bringing up such an uncomfortable subject on Christmas Day.
And so, in a warm and cheerful atmosphere, they all finished the meal with round, overfull stomachs and then followed Neville through a glimpse of Longbottom family history.
By evening, Augusta cast Floo Powder into the fireplace.
As the flames turned green, a lingering sadness appeared in her eyes.
"Come, Neville."
"And you as well, children."
"If Frank and Alice know you're here, they'll be happy. They will. I know they will."
A short while later, Theodore and the others stood quietly in a hospital room, looking at Neville's parents lying motionless upon their beds.
Hermione's eyes had already gone red long ago. She kept wiping at them, doing all she could to keep herself from crying out.
Ron, too, felt a deep ache rise in his chest. Without meaning to, he found himself thinking of his own parents.
How fortunate that they were healthy.
If he had been in Neville's place, Ron felt the sky itself would have fallen.
Harry's expression was also deeply complicated.
In one sense, he envied Neville—at least Neville could still see his parents and talk to them.
But in another, he only felt pity.
For Neville, this was surely a kind of prolonged torment.
Harry pulled Neville tightly into a hug and patted his shoulder.
At that moment, Augusta quietly stepped out of the room and approached the physician in charge of Neville's parents.
"Doctor Richard… there is still no hope of them waking?"
The healer named Richard sighed and shook his head gently.
"You know as well as I do."
"The magic of the Cruciatus Curse, once it has reached the mind, is almost impossible to cure."
"All St Mungo's can do is keep their condition from worsening further and reduce some of their suffering."
"And even that requires extremely careful daily treatment. It demands frequent spells from wizards highly skilled in this sort of care."
He hesitated a moment.
"Lady Longbottom…"
"Will you be renewing their room fees for another year?"
Augusta drew in a heavy breath and nodded.
"Yes."
Doctor Richard hesitated again before continuing.
"In truth, there has recently been a new theoretical treatment."
"I can't guarantee it would work. In fact, the chance is very slim."
"But there may be some small possibility that it could improve their condition."
"The problem is that it would be extremely expensive. At the very least, it would require another thousand Galleons."
"Lady Longbottom, I'm not trying to cheat you. It's just that every year I watch you bring your grandson here, and…"
Augusta's eyes lit up with hope.
"You mean… there is at least a little hope?"
"Give me some time. I'll find the money."
Doctor Richard's face immediately showed regret.
He truly had not wanted to mention a treatment so expensive and with such little chance of success to the Longbottom family.
But since he had spoken of it now, he continued doing his best to explain.
"You should at least hear the principle of the treatment first."
"It uses a newly designed potion. It draws inspiration from Wolfsbane Potion and several other formulas that have been shown to suppress madness rather effectively."
"It may perhaps have an effect on conditions like this."
Just as Richard began explaining, however, a sigh sounded from nearby.
"Forgive me. I did not intend to listen in."
"But at this point, I have no choice but to interrupt."
"That path won't work."
Augusta and Doctor Richard both froze and turned.
It was Theodore.
Doctor Richard frowned, a trace of irritation appearing on his face.
"Child, you're still studying at Hogwarts, aren't you?"
"At your age, what are you—first year? Second?"
"Don't imagine that because you've learned a little magic and a little potion theory, you can casually pass judgment on St Mungo's treatment methods."
"This is not something you get to evaluate so lightly. Understand?"
Just as Theodore was about to answer, text suddenly appeared across the System screen.
[You accompany a friend to visit the Medicine King Sect. A healer of the Medicine King Sect is currently diagnosing a relative of your friend.]
[After listening to the treatment plan, you shake your head repeatedly.]
[The healer of the Medicine King Sect furrows his brow and declares that this is the Medicine King Sect, first in the medicinal Dao among the various sects. He asks who you are to behave like this here.]
[The System advises: the host is a true disciple of the Jade Void Palace, honored guest of many Golden Immortals, and one of the younger seeds viewed with great favor by the mighty figures of the Chan lineage. Why waste words with a mere healer of the Medicine King Sect?]
[You may immediately rebuke him—A minor Medicine King Sect dares call itself first in the medicinal Dao? Where, then, are my Chan lineage's True Jade Ding and the Exalted Lord of Dao and Virtue? And you dare sneer at a true disciple of Jade Void? Utter insolence!]
Theodore paused, his expression strange.
It really was true that he was not what he once had been.
In the past, whenever something like this happened, the System's advice would have been for him to kneel and apologize on the spot.
Now it had become this arrogant?
Of course Theodore was not going to follow such a suggestion.
It was far too overbearing, and that simply was not his style.
He preferred to convince others through reason and virtue.
So Theodore silently reached into his robes and withdrew Ollivander's seal, Dumbledore's seal, Snape's seal, and Nicolas Flamel's letter.
Wearing a mild smile, he said:
"I am Mr. Ollivander's close friend and collaborator, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's friend, Potions Master Severus Snape's research partner, and the pen pal of the great alchemist Nicolas Flamel…"
"You are welcome to verify any of that with the masters I've just named."
"I consider myself to have a slight understanding of alchemy, potions, and healing."
"So now—regarding the treatment plan you just described, Doctor Richard—may I say a few words?"
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