HP/LOTM: Hogwart's Mind Dragon

"You... you want to study me?" Filch's voice was shaky. "You're a Dark Wizard!"

"Of course not, Mr. Argus Filch," Aiden's voice was smooth and laced with temptation. "I am just an ordinary student with a few unique talents. Don't you want to try the feeling of casting a spell, just like a real wizard?"

Filch stared into Aiden's eyes. The light emanating from the heterochromatic pupils seemed to want to devour him whole. "I... of course I do," he stammered. "It's my lifelong dream. Please, as long as you can let me cast a spell, I am willing to give you everything."

His mental defenses crumbled. The hypnosis took root. From that moment on, Aiden had gained a loyal subordinate.

"Then come to the tapestry of the trolls on the eighth floor on Saturday night," Aiden instructed. "We will meet there." His figure seemed to fade into the air, leaving only his clear voice echoing in the empty corridor.

The next day, Harry went to Lockhart's office for his usual detention.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," the professor beamed, showing off his sparkling teeth. "Think about it. Is there anything better than helping me reply to my fan mail? You must remember, fame is not a reliable friend. Fame comes from the actions of the famous."

'Come... come to me...'

Suddenly, a hoarse, muffled voice whispered in Harry's mind.

"What?" Harry asked aloud.

"What's wrong?" Lockhart looked at him, confused. "Oh, look at me, how careless. It's already been four hours! No wonder you're hearing things. Happy times always pass so quickly. That's enough for today. You go back and rest." He waved his hand, dismissing Harry.

Harry left Lockhart's office, but as he walked down the corridor, he could still hear the faint, hissing sound. He followed it, turning a corner so quickly that he crashed right into Ron.

"Oh, watch where you're going, Harry!" Ron complained, sitting on the floor and rubbing his head.

"Did you hear anything?" Harry asked urgently.

"Hear what?" Ron and Hermione, who had just caught up, asked in unison.

"A voice," Harry said, his eyes wide. "It was shouting about killing someone." He started running again, chasing the sound.

Finally, at the end of a long corridor, he saw a familiar figure with silver-white hair. "Aiden?" Harry called out.

Aiden heard him and turned around. "Oh, Harry. Are you here to watch the spiders move, too?" He pointed to the floor. Following his finger, Harry saw a long, thick line of spiders marching purposefully toward a window, fleeing the castle.

"Ugh, that's disgusting," Ron shuddered. "Why aren't you afraid of them? George and Fred used to scare you with spiders all the time when you were little."

Aiden just smiled faintly. "Perhaps I've learned to hide my fear." He turned his head away and walked off without another word.

"Don't you think Aiden has been acting a little weird lately?" Ron asked, watching him go.

"Maybe it's just the pressure of his studies," Hermione suggested.

Time, as always, flowed by like water. In the blink of an eye, Saturday had arrived. That night, Aiden went to the eighth floor as arranged.

"Oh, dear Mr. Prewett," Filch said, bowing deeply. "I have been waiting for a long time."

"Let's go."

Aiden paced before the tapestry three times, and the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. He led Filch inside. The room had transformed into a clean, sterile laboratory, filled with strange magical instruments and a single bed in the center.

"Lie down, Filch," Aiden ordered gently as he fiddled with the instruments. "Don't be afraid. This is just a routine examination."

Filch lay down nervously, his tension radiating from him in palpable waves.

"Tell me about your past, Mr. Filch," Aiden said, his pleasant voice imbued with the power of a hypnotist. Filch's vision began to blur.

"Sir," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "as you know, I was born into a wizarding family. My parents had such high hopes for me. But as I grew up, they became more and more anxious, because I never showed any sign of magic. By the time I turned eleven, everything beautiful in my life had been shattered. My family fell apart, and I was kicked out." Tears streamed from Filch's eyes. "Fortunately, Dumbledore, who was just the Transfiguration Professor back then, convinced the headmaster to let me become the castle caretaker. I've worked here ever since."

"Oh, that sounds like a past that is difficult to recall," Aiden said softly. "I am sorry for making you remember such sad things." The instruments were now ready. "Now then, let us begin."

A silver light emanated from Aiden's hand as his long staff materialized. Magic flowed from him into the instruments, and the alchemical matrix he'd designed activated. Instantly, his vision split into three distinct perspectives.

"Let's see," he murmured to himself. "The physical body... seems similar enough to ours." His magic began to penetrate Filch's body, breaking through the boundary between reality and illusion and entering the realm of the mind. "Oh, this is interesting. This is the first time I've observed the soul of an ordinary person from this perspective."

[Ding. Do not play around too much, lest you develop a host of messy Dark Arts.]

Ignoring the System's complaint, Aiden continued his observation. "The soul structure of a non-magical person is different from ours. It's so strange..."

[Ding. Perhaps the soul structure of a wizard is the truly strange one. After all, what normal creature's mind takes precedence over its soul?]

"Hmm, that makes sense. So the question is, how do I get him to cast a spell?" Aiden stroked his chin, falling deep into thought.

"Mr. Prewett," Filch's voice, almost a plea, cut through his concentration. "What are the results? Is there still hope for me?"

"Wait a moment," Aiden said. "Let me think." He took out a piece of parchment and began to scribble down equations and diagrams. 'System, come out and have a chat.'

[Ding. Ask.] The System already knew what sort of bad idea was brewing.

'I want to know, can I directly modify his soul?'

[Ding. Are you insane? That is proper Dark Arts. And do you think creating magic that touches the soul comes without a price? Think about your future.]

'If I can't modify the soul, then I propose a new hypothesis: enhance the mental power of an ordinary person until their mind is large enough to reach the threshold of controlling magic.'

[Ding. There is a certain feasibility to this approach, but be absolutely certain you do not touch the soul.]

'System, I've noticed you seem to care a great deal about the soul.'

[Ding. Because the soul is the energy source of the Distorted Illusion. If that domain is privately tampered with by creatures not of this world, what do you think the result will be?]

'Will I be attacked by the Distorted Illusion itself?'

[Ding. You're not completely stupid.]

Aiden understood. He took out a notebook and carefully wrote down the conversation and his new theory. 'So, is the general plan to make ordinary creatures evolve into magical ones thus established?'

[Ding. The feasibility is very low. But you can try.]

***********

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