The Mentor (Eng)

Chapter V: Gringotts

The ancient ruins awaited majestically at the top of a steep cliff, standing as a silent witness to ages past. The initial ascent proved to be a formidable challenge, an intricate dance between skill and danger, where every step could be the last. Loraine, her gaze laden with awe and admiration, could not help but observe the ease with which Eleazar negotiated each obstacle and was embarrassed by the fact that, on more than one occasion, it had been his firm grip that had saved her from falling into the void.

—The young and agile one here is supposed to be you —Eleazar joked with a playful grin at the blush on her cheeks. Loraine pursed her lips and wordlessly resumed walking. To her relief, the road before them was already showing signs of improvement.

—Where is your wife supposed to have gotten the portkey? —Loraine asked, deftly diverting the conversation from its momentary awkwardness.

—Good question. Miriam had spent years unearthing evidence of an ancient form of magic, long forgotten.

Loraine walked cautiously behind her mentor, through a spacious stone tunnel that seemed to extend deep into the earth. With each step, she could feel the air grow colder, a chill that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.

—Ancient magic? —she asked, her voice echoing and mingling with the echo of his footsteps.

—Yes, a powerful magic that few can use and that seems lost to time —professor Fig replied, his voice low and serene, as if he were revealing a sacred secret—. Hogwarts was built on that magic and is itself a bastion of it.

The revelation took Loraine's breath away, as she imagined the ancient hands of wizards and witches shaping the stone with spells that echoed through the centuries. Hogwarts was not simply a place of learning; it was a living testament to the purest and most powerful magic, a sanctuary of knowledge and power that had survived the erosion of time.

Eleazar continued, his voice now a reverent whisper that seemed to blend into the dancing shadows around them:

—Every stone, every tower, every corridor of Hogwarts is steeped in stories and spells that have been woven into its very fabric. It is more than a castle; it is a legacy, a guardian of the deepest mysteries of magic.

Loraine felt a shiver run down her spine, not of cold, but of wonder. Once again, they stepped out into the outside world, where her eyes struggled again to adjust to the dazzling sunlight. They moved on for a few more minutes until they plunged into the gloom of another cavern. Loraine, though disoriented and clueless as to her destination, placed all her faith in the wisdom of Professor Fig. The urgency of arriving at Hogwarts in time for the Sorting ceremony weighed heavily on her; she could not afford to be late on her first day.

—But Professor, why was your wife so intent on seeking evidence of this ancient and forgotten magic?

—Miriam was fascinated with the idea of unravelling the mystery of why such a formidable force had been eradicated from our magical world, —Professor Fig explained, his gaze lost in a distant memory—. She was a firm believer in the beneficial potential of such a power. She spoke passionately of the good it could generate, —he paused, reflective, and turned to look at his apprentice— But magic, like any force of great power, is a mirror of the soul of the wielder. Its true nature is revealed in the hands of the wielder and the intentions that guide it.

She nodded, wrapped in a blanket of contemplative silence. She understood, with a mixture of awe and fascination, Miriam's deep interest in this enigmatic and powerful magic. Suddenly they came to the end of the cave. Ahead of them, an imposing wall of ice merged with the living rock, a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. Yet a glimpse of a path continued beyond, as if the barrier were an optical illusion or a mirage. Professor Fig stepped forward steadily and extended his hand towards the translucent surface. His fingers brushed against what appeared to be a layer of crystalline ice.