Starting at Hogwarts, Logging into Elden Ring

Ever since Hermione had used the time differential between the Zen Garden and the outside world to study at high frequency—causing her height to increase at an alarming rate—Ranni had quietly developed the desire to grow taller as well.

Compared to Hermione, who was only occasionally tsundere toward Arthur, Ranni was the real deal.

In front of anyone else, she always maintained an aloof, superior bearing. Only when she was with Arthur did she restrain herself even a little.

Arthur still vividly remembered their first meeting.

Ranni had been sitting calmly atop the broken wall of the Church of Elleh, a full two heads taller than him. Arthur had no choice but to tilt his head upward to look at her.

The same thing happened when they reunited later in her sorcerer’s tower. In order to emphasize her commanding, condescending presence, she had stacked four or five books beneath her chair just to sit higher.

It was clear—Ranni cared deeply about height.

So when she realized that Hermione had surpassed her, Ranni immediately retreated into the Zen Garden, secretly asking Arthur to crank the time flow to its absolute limit to accelerate the growth of her demigod body.

Arthur, on the other hand, was slightly worried.

Looking across the Lands Between—demigods, gods, and divine beings alike—there was practically no such thing as "short".

(Miquella: Are you being polite?) 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

In the game, Marika, even when kneeling, still towered a full head above a Tarnished. Her other half, Radagon, shared the same height.

And Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon, was likewise comparable in stature.

Given that Ranni was born from Rennala and Radagon, there was no way she’d end up petite.

Arthur had once roughly estimated Ranni’s original body when he visited the Liurnia Divine Tower—it was easily over two meters tall.

As Arthur was lost in thoughts about Ranni’s height, the door behind him opened.

Hermione cautiously poked her head in from outside.

"Arthur, can I come in now?" she asked.

Arthur snapped back to reality.

"You can. It’s already over."

Hermione walked up to him and carefully examined him from head to toe. After confirming he was completely unharmed, she finally let out a sigh of relief.

Then, with a hint of reproach, she said,

"If you were already done, why didn’t you let me in earlier?"

Arthur rubbed her head soothingly.

"There was still a bit of cleanup to do. But since you’re here now, we can do it together."

Originally, he’d planned to test his newly acquired time authority first, then call Hermione in.

Hermione nodded, transformed back into her Animagus form, and leapt into Arthur’s arms.

Holding Hermione with one arm, Arthur extended his other hand toward the pile of shattered Time-Turners on the floor.

A soft green glow emerged from his palm and spread over the broken devices.

The next instant, the shattered Time-Turners began to reconstruct themselves, returning to their original shape—except that the time sand inside was completely gone.

A container capable of holding time was naturally no ordinary object. Arthur planned to take them back and study them properly.

"Arthur, this isn’t a Repair Charm, is it?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Of course not," Arthur replied. "Didn’t you remember what I was planning to do? This is time itself."

Hermione hadn’t expected Arthur to truly gain control over time. Shocked as she was, pride quickly followed.

"Then why keep these Time-Turners if they’ve already lost their effect?" she asked.

"Even without their power," Arthur explained,

"any vessel capable of containing time is an extremely rare and special artifact. They still have research and collection value."

At the word research, Hermione’s eyes lit up.

"Can I study them?"

She’d been worrying about what to do during the summer break anyway.

Arthur considered it briefly. The Time-Turners were now just empty shells—without time power, they posed no danger. Letting Hermione study them wouldn’t be a problem.

He nodded.

After storing the Time-Turner shells, Arthur turned to the bell-shaped crystal enclosure.

Although it wasn’t a Time-Turner, it contained a massive amount of time energy. Its purpose was unclear, but its value alone meant Arthur had no intention of leaving it behind.

Once he removed the enclosure, Arthur discovered a hidden door behind it.

He opened it together with Hermione.

Beyond lay a dim hall filled with towering shelves, each lined with countless glass orbs. Dust coated them heavily—clear evidence that no one had cleaned this place in a long time.

Some orbs glowed faintly with mysterious light. Others were dull and dark.

The shelves near the entrance were labeled Row 53 and Row 54, with weak candlelight hanging at the far ends of each row.

The light was so dim that even standing at one end, Arthur couldn’t see the flames at the other.

"What is this place?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"The Hall of Prophecy," Arthur replied.

"Each glass orb represents a prophecy—but only those directly involved can see its contents."

Arthur hadn’t expected the Hall of Prophecy to be located beyond the Time Chamber.

If the Time Chamber represented time, then this place likely symbolized fate.

A force even more elusive than time.

Though special, Arthur had no interest in it.

In his view, fate might exist—but it was never fixed. Everyone carried their own destiny, constantly reshaped by the choices they made.

That was why true prophets never blindly trusted prophecy.

The last person who relied too heavily on prophecy was Voldemort.

Not only did his grand ambitions collapse, he destroyed his own body in the process—leaving nothing but a fleeing soul.

Hermione, meanwhile, was stunned by the sheer number of prophecy orbs.

If every orb represented a valid prophecy, weren’t prophecies... a bit too common?

She suddenly felt that prophecy had become strangely cheap.

She voiced her thoughts, and Arthur chuckled.

"Silly girl. Prophecy was never something lofty to begin with."

"In the past, truly skilled seers were common. Making simple prophecies was effortless for them."

"Some could even produce several prophecies in a single day. After centuries, this many orbs isn’t surprising."

Even today, many diviners could make minor prophecies using crystal balls.

The glowing orbs here indicated that the people tied to those prophecies were still alive. There were quite a few of those.

The Department of Mysteries collected these orbs to study the trace of destiny left behind.

When a true prophecy was made, fate imprinted itself onto the medium used—granting it a sliver of destiny’s power.

For the Unspeakables, this was yet another unresolved—or perhaps abandoned—field of research.

Judging by the dust, no one had been here for a very long time.

After listening, Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

Seen this way, prophecy really wasn’t all that grand. For a genuine prophet, predicting what someone would eat for breakfast tomorrow was trivial.

Compared to that, Professor Trelawney—aside from the occasional major prophecy due to her bloodline—had very little real ability.

In three years at Hogwarts, Hermione hadn’t heard of a single new prophecy orb being taken by the Ministry because of Trelawney.

Still, Hermione grew curious.

"Arthur, do you know where the prophecy about Harry being the Chosen One is?" she asked.

Arthur shook his head.

"No idea."

He vaguely remembered it being around Row 97, but with hundreds of orbs per shelf—and no ability to read them unless you were involved—he had no way of knowing which one it was.

Seeing that Arthur didn’t know either, Hermione said disappointedly,

"Then let’s go to the next room."

Arthur nodded and turned to leave.

Neither of them was interested in the orbs here. The faint traces of destiny meant nothing to Arthur.

He didn’t even know how to extract that power. If he shattered an orb, the destiny within would likely disperse before he could absorb it.

And despite the sheer number of orbs, most were already inert. Even if he gathered all the remaining active ones, it still wouldn’t be enough for Arthur to truly grasp fate.

They left the Time Chamber and arrived at the final unopened door.

Arthur pushed it open.

Beyond was yet another dim room.

The chamber was rectangular, with a massive stone pit sunk into the center—roughly six meters deep.

Stone steps circled the entire room, each one steep and narrow, descending layer by layer—

Like a vast tiered amphitheater, where every step served as a seat.

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