69novels Chapter 95, Section 94: The Missing Link, Re-entering the Illusion
Chapter 95, Section 94: The Missing Link, Re-entering the Illusion
It's not Voldemort!
And definitely not a Death Eater!
It shimmered with silver light.
The chill and despair in the air were largely dispelled. A warm and powerful force emerged, a magic that opens the door to learning only for those capable of experiencing beauty—a guardian spell.
"Saint, one—."
Ian's stiff hand remained suspended in mid-air, his gaze fixed on Gilderoy Lockhart's wand, from which wisps of silver light continuously emerged and drifted like clouds.
An elegant silver animal slowly took shape, but was deliberately obscured by the spellcaster's silver mist. Ian could only sense the figure's proud posture and powerful aura from a fleeting glimpse.
The Dementors in the cage emitted extremely sharp cries—Ian could sense the Dementor's panic, but the selfish adult wizard did not attempt to use the Patronus to fight it.
The guardian spirit deliberately obscured by the silver mist was merely surrounding Gilderoy, a blatant case of counterfeiting.
He gathered all his power around Gilderoy Lockhart.
Let's continue calling him that for now.
After all, they have the same face.
"The Guardian Charm is a relatively simple form of magic; the incantation is just as I just recited."
The key is simply to concentrate on recalling your happiest moments.
"Some say this is the manifestation of the beauty in our hearts, and you can certainly think that way too. But personally, I'm more inclined to believe that we're just using beautiful memories to get a response." Gilderoy Lockhart's wand continued to glow with silver light, and his expression returned to its natural and composed state.
And at that very moment.
"Soul-stealing!"
Ian seized the moment when Gilderoy Lockhart made eye contact and activated the magic he had learned from his cheap senior sister, a strange purple light flashing in his eyes.
The magic was successfully activated.
However—Ian failed to infiltrate Gilderoy Lockhart's mind. Not only was he unable to modify or view Lockhart's memories, but even the emotions that were so readily apparent when Lockhart first entered the classroom had, without any trace of time, vanished completely.
"Ancient magic, you've learned quite a lot of magic." Gilderoy Lockhart raised an eyebrow, took a step back, and revealed to the bewildered Ian why he had withstood Ian's sneak attack.
All I saw was...
Right where Gilderoy Lockhart had just stood, it was as if he had shed an incomparably crystalline outer shell, leaving that wax-like substance behind as he stepped back.
obviously.
It was this outer shell, which contained some unknown magic, that withstood Ian's attack.
"You can launch a sneak attack at any time while we're talking, and that will also allow me to see what other skills you have up your sleeve," Gilderoy Lockhart said, not angry at all.
He smiled calmly and casually, then gently flicked the wax-like shell in front of him. The shell shattered and fell to the ground, quickly dissipating into the air.
"Um?"
Ian even felt the restraints controlling him disappear.
This was clearly a sign that the other party had opened him up. After weighing the options in his mind, Ian did not continue to attempt an attack; he now had a definite guess in his mind.
"Professor, what kind of response are you referring to?"
Ian shook his arm and asked the question as if nothing had happened.
Gilderoy Lockhart smiled slightly.
"Every soul has a companion, child. The black magic that is despised by people will not make us abandon it. Only the loss of self and soul will make it unable to find you again."
13
Gilderoy Lockhart acted as if the sneak attack had never happened, reaching into the mist to gently stroke his Patronus, his tone relaxed. His words were clearly somewhat shocking, completely different from the mainstream Patronus doctrines in the wizarding world.
heresy!
"Do you have any proof?" Ian tried his best to let the glow from his wand illuminate all the young wizards. In fact, the unconscious young wizards were out of danger after Gilderoy Lockhart's Patronus appeared.
Right now, there's just a slight hint in the air that winter has arrived.
"You've come to the right person. This is a question that even Dumbledore certainly couldn't answer for you. He's always tied up with all sorts of things and doesn't have as much time to study as I do." Gilderoy Lockhart, who appeared to be that person or a saint in disguise, showed no impatience whatsoever.
He smiled as if he were very willing to answer Ian's question, which was meant to stall for time. "You may know that Azkaban was founded by a dark wizard named Extis. In the fifteenth century, he built Azkaban Castle and lured many Muggle sailors to that island to torture and kill them."
"When the Ministry of Magic discovered the island, it was already teeming with Dementors. Some say the Dementors were the result of Extis's bio-alchemy using Muggles."
This once filled everyone with fear and anxiety about bio-alchemy—ah, fools are always like this; they are always deceived by equally foolish rhetoric.
"Anyone with sufficient knowledge of alchemy can understand how ridiculous this explanation is. Creating a completely new species out of thin air is a forbidden zone reserved only for the gods."
"We can't even stop death, let alone create these species that transcend life and death."
Gilderoy Lockhart's gaze fell upon the monster in the cage.
"According to the records about Extis, he was not a very good dark wizard. The truth is that he used Muggles to carry out a sacrificial ritual on the island that is now a prison."
"He brought species that didn't belong to our world into this world, and he also lost his life because of his half-baked skills. That's the real reason why he mysteriously disappeared."
Gilderoy Lockhart's tone was full of certainty, as if it had happened many, many years ago, and it was unclear what gave him such confidence.
"What does this have to do with the Patronus being able to fight Dementors?" Ian thought the other person's story was indeed very well told, but it was clearly not the answer to the question he was asking.
Gilderoy Lockhart shook his head.
"Of course it's related, because the world where Dementors live is the world we will eventually go to, and the Guardians in that world are responsible for paving the way for their partners." His answer was still different from the mainstream at present, and would definitely be regarded as a fallacy in the wizarding world.
Ian frowned slightly.
"You've never died, how do you know?"
He thought about it carefully.
Although there were many animals in the dreamlike realm, it seemed that none of the wizard souls he encountered on that land were accompanied by their guardian spirits.
"I'll die eventually, won't I? We'll see then." Gilderoy Lockhart didn't argue, he just shrugged to show his indifference.
Ian was made a little unsure by Gilderoy Lockhart's ease and confidence. Perhaps the situations that the imposter Gilderoy Lockhart mentioned were going to happen in the distant future, far beyond the illusion?
after all.
If this guy really is that person.
Surely you wouldn't just spout nonsense without any evidence, would you? Well, I'm not sure. I've heard that people who have been locked up for a long time often develop delusions and mental instability to some extent.
"Muggles can't see Dementors, and they can't fight them in despair. Don't they have their own Patronus?" Ian asked a crucial question.
Faced with such sharp criticism.
Gilderoy Lockhart simply smiled even more broadly.
"My child, miracles can only be created through death and resurrection."
His clear, articulate voice carried a subtle, ambiguous meaning that made Ian feel a sense of familiarity. It seemed that Aurora had mentioned something similar when they first spoke at the bookstore.
To obtain a Patronus, you need to die once? How is that possible? So many wizards around the world can summon Patronus; you can't say they all brought back companions from the dead!
Just when Ian was completely baffled...
"Question time is over, Prince. It's time for you to try." Gilderoy Lockhart suddenly changed the subject, his voice filled with eager anticipation.
Because he was completely intertwined with his guardian spirit, the silvery fog was so dazzling that Ian could not see that one of his eyes had turned white.
"I'm very curious, just how extraordinary is your guardian deity?" Gilderoy Lockhart seemed somewhat impatient, his changing pupils reflecting a scene different from the classroom.
An old man knelt and wept. A young wizard raised his hand in the shadow of his pupils, and silver threads emerged from his elder wand, weaving into a blurry figure—he could see it, yet he couldn't make it out.
Prophecy is always like this.
Especially when it comes to major upheavals.
That's how it was back then.
The same is true today.
"Please don't let it be a dragon or a thunderbird, or I'll be very disappointed." Gilderoy Grindelwald, whose name should perhaps be changed, had been preparing for this lesson for a long time because he wanted to understand why he couldn't see clearly why a spell could cause such a world-shaking event.
It's just a guardian spell.
"Protect the Gods!"
Ian gave his teacher a deep look, then stopped asking questions and raised his wand to try, his mind filled with memories of past happiness.
Was it when I first came into contact with a Japanese teacher by chance in a past life?
The wand only emitted a few silver sparks.
This is clearly not true happiness.
"Protect the Gods!"
Keep trying.
It could also be from playing games with my roommates during my university days, where my only game was a 37/0/0 Juggernaut – as my wand started emitting more silver threads, the system panel also began to change.
This is clearly the true joy of the human-headed dog.
[You have learned the Guardian Charm, Proficiency +3]
"Protect the Gods!"
Ian reflected that being confessed to by a female classmate and then stabbed to death by her devoted admirer was hardly a happy experience, so he began to search for happiness in this life.
Elena, Catherine, Daniel, Mia, and many other children who grew up together at the orphanage.
And the family and friends I met after arriving at Hogwarts.
Do I feel happy when I'm with them?
The increasingly dense silver mist provided the answer.
[You have learned the Guardian Charm, Proficiency +5]
[You have learned the Guardian Charm, Proficiency +3]
[You have learned the Guardian Charm, Proficiency +4]
Under the eager gaze of the imposter Lockhart, thick strands of silver continuously emerged from Ian's wand, quickly forming a murky yet dense substance that swirled before him. Since he couldn't sense the threat of the Dementors, Ian didn't experience any dispelling of cold or fear.
but.
I could clearly feel the warmth of the guardian angel and the aura of hope.
"You can do even better, gather your Guardian Angel—" Gilderoy Grindelwald encouraged, his voice urgent, as if he wanted to witness Ian's Guardian Angel before anyone else.
however.
"Professor Grindelwald."
Ian's face was flushed, but his voice sounded somewhat helpless.
"I think I'm so happy right now, I'm practically on the planet of happiness - maybe you should send me something that can make me rich overnight to give me a little more excitement."
His wand was constantly spewing silver light.
What is said is clearly correct.
However, faced with Ian's "reasonable" request, the man with someone else's face frowned and stared into a silent, withdrawn state as he looked at the silver mist that was about to fill the entire classroom.
"That shouldn't be the case."
Having confirmed his identity, Gilderoy Grindelwald did not correct Ian's form of address.
He frowned, as if his own knowledge had been challenged. The immense power of the Patronus Charm surged within the classroom, even attempting to encroach upon the area where his Patronus hovered. This was clearly a situation that only occurred when one had fully mastered the Patronus Charm and possessed abundant magical power.
Didn't you see the Dementors in the cage frantically digging at the ground? They can't dig anywhere under the cage, yet they're trying like madmen to burrow underground and hide!
Such powerful force.
It even surpasses the Guardian Charm cast by most wizards who possess a physical Guardian Deity. Logically speaking, a Guardian Charm of this scale should have already condensed into a physical Guardian Deity long ago.
Why can't it coalesce?
Now it was Gilderoy Grindelwald's turn to be completely baffled. He believed that his years of learning and accumulation far surpassed what he had learned before, but reality showed him that there were still things he didn't understand.
Ian didn't understand either.
【Guardian Spell (Level 0) 49/50】
His training and learning of this magic went very smoothly, but his progress was stuck at the very last step, as if he lacked something crucial to casting this magic.
If we follow the theory of this fake professor in front of us...
Is it because he doesn't have a guardian deity?
"Why does everyone else have it but I don't?!"
Ian's wand was constantly spewing silver light, filling the entire classroom. Amid the Dementors' pitiful pleas for mercy, the silver light even managed to push open the windows and spread outwards.
however.
They simply don't coalesce.
No matter how Ian tries to control them, he can only achieve compression.
"Professor, where is my soulmate?"
He could only look longingly at Gilderoy Grindelwald on the podium.
Gilderoy Grindelwald opened his mouth, but was completely at a loss for words, utterly speechless. His once confident and composed expression became somewhat bewildered. It wouldn't be accurate to say he was completely dumbfounded; rather, he resembled a genius who had scored a perfect score on the college entrance exam in a global mathematics competition.
"Yes...—Where is your soulmate?"
A man who was untamed all his life and could glimpse the secrets of fate ultimately couldn't escape becoming a broken record. He watched as the silver light emanating from Ian's wand nearly shrouded the entire classroom in darkness.
"Put away your magic, and I will help you find a solution." Gilderoy Grindelwald ultimately couldn't come up with a possible factor.
"Okay, Professor."
Ian canceled the spell.
All the silver mist began to return and dissipate.
As Gilderoy Grindelwald raised his wand, the earth-like substance on the ground once again covered the Dementor's cage, restoring it to its original, unremarkable state as a lecture platform.
The classrooms have returned to normal.
"You're in charge of waking them up and telling them that I'm disappointed with their performance in this class, and that I hope at least two or three of them will be able to stay up until the end of the next class."
After Gilderoy Grindelwald finished speaking, he headed towards the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"what?"
Ian was somewhat surprised.
He thought that Gilderoy Grindelwald's appalling teaching behavior was just a one-time lapse of madness.
However, judging from what they said, it seemed that they would continue to impersonate Lockhart and serve as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor with that face? Could it be that this was something that Dumbledore actually approved?
Will Gilderoy Grindelwald's identity remain valid for at least another year?
It all sounds so awkward!
"Professor, perhaps we need some less stimulating courses—" Ian glanced around at the students scattered on the floor; someone who didn't know better might have thought this was a scene of kidney-grilling.
It was truly a tragic scene.
"This is what a real Defense Against the Dark Arts class should be like. You find it too exciting only because the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers at this school have been unqualified in the past."
? 3
Gilderoy Grindelwald, with the face of a playboy writer, stopped in his tracks. He turned around and whispered a serious reminder to Ian.
"As I just said, real dangers never wait for you to grow up, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts class is meant to give you practical experience in dangerous situations."
"At least these kids won't actually die in school, and when they step into the cruel and dangerous world outside of school, I believe most of them will be grateful to me."
"Including you."
Gilderoy Grindelwald's voice has a power that seems to penetrate the heart.
"Snape will probably be the first to thank you, because you're definitely more frightening to the young wizards than he is." Ian sighed and immediately went to his two roommates who were fast asleep on the floor.
"Mr. Prince, you'll understand someday."
Grindelwald continued walking towards the gate.
"To see flowers bloom, one must be bathed in the blood of flower pickers. Reality will always be like this. Your opinions have nothing to do with me. All I want is to see the flowers bloom brilliantly."
His magnetic voice echoed in the empty classroom.
"get out of class dismissed."
The words fell.
The man's figure had already disappeared around the corner outside the gate.
Set up the crucible.
He found some chocolate, melted it into liquid, filled a large bucket with the chocolate liquid, and returned to the classroom where "corpses lay everywhere," starting to wake up his classmates one by one.
Although it wasn't what Ian wanted, he could only resort to the most primitive method: waking everyone up by feeding them chocolates. Even a little witch like Cho Chang got slapped by him.
"What happened?"
"Didn't the Dementors eat me?"
"Oh my god! I had a nightmare—damn it, it was this classroom! And it wasn't a nightmare after all!"
As the young wizards slowly awoke, instinctively grabbing their chocolate juice and gulping it down, Ian realized that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher might still have some sense of propriety.
The Dementors' influence didn't leave any lasting effects on anyone; however, due to the slight loss of happiness, everyone might be sullen for several days.
"How scary."
Michael, being a Black boy, developed quickly and was one of the bigger boys in the first grade, but he now looked somewhat like a quail, trembling.
Ian wanted to go over and comfort him, but then he heard him say, "I actually have a feeling that Rebecca might not like me—oh! This kind of illusion is really terrible!"
Simps don't deserve comfort.
Ian stopped in his tracks.
He chose to turn and comfort his dream groom. William, in comparison, was much more normal.
When he woke up, he was just grumbling about how the wretched little brat had taken over his room in the house, and he was going to use it to make soup for Ian—well, maybe even the loyal William wasn't so normal after all.
Ian never imagined that just one night later, he would sincerely hope that the so-called little brat was just a non-human being from William's family, although that was still quite creepy.
"What kind of scoundrels are these!" Ian began to doubt his social circle. He looked around and thankfully, most of the young wizards' nightmares were strange and even immoral.
This is the lingering power of the Dementors.
Even if a victim manages to escape after encountering a Dementor, they may still feel physically exhausted and weak, and may experience various nightmares for several nights in a row.
Some potions that bring joy can accelerate recovery, but these potions are quite expensive, and even when Snape wasn't at school, Ian didn't dare to rummage through Snape's office.
Quite a few people were lying in the classroom.
There wasn't a single person inside named Lily Potter or Lily Snape—I guess I'll have to suffer with the students. Ian quickly woke up every student who had fallen into a coma.
Everyone felt a chill.
He grabbed the chocolate juice Ian had given him and drank it down in large gulps.
"Lockhart is insane! I'm going to tell my dad! I'll get him expelled!" It's unexpected that there's a second-generation school leader like Malfoy among the young wizards of Ravenclaw.
"That's a Dementor! Waaaaah! I never want to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts class again!" Some young wizards were also crying because they had developed a fear of Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
Everyone was terrified.
Even when Ian offered a promise like, "The professor said he'll catch a Veela for us to practice defense against the dark magic," all he got in return was a hesitant question from one of the young wizards who choked back tears.
"Is it one per person?"
Even this inquiry was met with hesitation, which shows that the young wizards were deeply traumatized. Fortunately, Ian had already thoughtfully considered this.
"Where are the Dementors? Were they taken away by Lockhart?"
William asked the question with lingering fear.
"Who knows—"
Ian's feigned confusion was actually a sign of his deep unease.
His eyes were somewhat unfocused.
The two roommates, still shaken, failed to notice that even the podium had disappeared from the empty classroom. After catching their breath, they left the classroom with trembling legs.
Many people headed towards the school infirmary. Mrs. Pomfrey was clearly not going to have a peaceful noon today, and no one knew how the imposter professor would deal with this colleague who was so caring towards the young wizards.
"That's not something I need to consider!"
After lunch, as Ian and his two listless roommates returned to their dorm, he wondered where the real Gilderoy Lockhart had gone, and whether he might have bumped into him in the hallucinations. Perhaps not; Polyjuice Potion requires a living person. Maybe Gilderoy Lockhart was being held captive somewhere by the imposter professor?
of course.
Ian had no sympathy for the real Gilderoy Lockhart.
For this kind of person.
Perhaps being imprisoned and used as a pig for hair extraction is a fitting punishment for Gilderoy Lockhart, and those who have been harmed by him would obviously be happy to see this happen.
If they remember—the only thing that Ian found somewhat unbelievable was that Dumbledore would allow Aurora's grandfather to impersonate Gilderoy Lockhart.
Judging from the memories Dumbledore showed earlier, the two should have already broken ties, as Aurora's grandfather was already imprisoned in Neumungard Castle in Austria.
Just let it go like that?
The Ministry of Magic simply doesn't have the capacity to oversee it, and private prisons don't seem to be a problem. After all, according to Dumbledore's memories, Grindelwald served his sentence voluntarily.
They don't want to stay anymore... - Who can stop them except Dumbledore?
"Perhaps it's because of the murder of the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It seems there's more to it than just a curse. There's definitely something worse behind it than I imagined."
"Voldemort or something else?" Ian thought the man might be there to protect Aurora.
He couldn't help but feel a little regretful that this situation didn't happen next year.
Tom, who has no nose, would surely regret missing out on this opportunity.
"Perhaps the curse won't work?"
Faced with the choice between the possibility of seven years of suffering for himself and his classmates and the hope that Tom, who had no nose, would receive a surprise, Ian truly wanted to sacrifice himself and choose the latter.
of course.
This is not something he can decide.
"I'm going to the library, what about you guys?" Ian only went to the bathroom in his dorm room, and when he came out, he found that his two roommates, who were drowsy, had actually fallen asleep as soon as they lay down.
During these days of nightmares, excessive sleep was clearly not a good option, but for the first time, Ian's slapping technique failed to work on them.
"Maybe I used too much today, so the power isn't enough." Ian tidied up his bed briefly, then went to the Room of Requirement to check his treasures again. The library, as always, was his go-to rest spot at noon, but today it seemed even less crowded.
Unsurprisingly, news of today's Defense Against the Dark Arts class has already spread far and wide. However, among the young wizards who have not yet experienced it firsthand, some even think that the new Dark Arts teacher is really cool, whether it's just wishful thinking or the filter brought by Lockhart's fame.
Faced with a murmur of discussion in the library, Mrs. Pince, unsurprisingly, asserted her authority, and under the threat of a feather duster, everyone quieted down again.
"An unknown kind person saved this group of clueless little wizards."
Ian glanced up at Mrs. Pince's "enforcement" and then went back to studying alchemy, which was his favorite subject besides Charms and Transfiguration.
This is actually one of the elective courses at Hogwarts, but unfortunately for Ian, he needs to get excellent grades in Charms, Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration in his fifth-year O.WLs exams in order to be able to participate in the elective course taught by Professor Arthur King in his sixth year.
This was a professor Ian had no recollection of, but who seemed to have worked at Hogwarts for many years—the Invisible Professor, just like the other faculty and staff whom Ian couldn't recall at all.
Of course, a large school couldn't only have the people Ian knew.
Just like the mysterious ancient enchanted script professor Basilda Baburin, Ian hadn't seen Professor Arthur King since the start of the semester, which made his plan to demonstrate his excellent alchemical talent and gain Professor Arthur King's favor and guidance fall through every day.
0.WLs exam results are certainly not a problem for Ian. His only flaw is that he is too young. Perhaps only by plucking the hair of his seniors to make compound potions can he have a chance to sneak into the alchemy class.
"Maybe I can skip Potions class and then audit Alchemy class." Ian had developed a considerable interest in bio-alchemy because of his conversation with the Dark Arts teacher that morning.
He spent the entire noon looking at relevant documents and materials in the restricted book area—although he had a rudimentary understanding before, most of it came from fragmented information in books such as "The Origin of Bloodlines".
"It's even related to biomorphic magic." Ian spent the entire lunch break in the library, and in the afternoon, he discovered that both of his roommates had skipped their flight class. Since he didn't need to bring any textbooks, Ian didn't go back to his bedroom.
He only saved a little over ten minutes to continue reading, never expecting that his two roommates were still sleeping in the dorm.
This is likely a consequence of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class encountering Dementors.
Skipping classes is quite rare for a young Ravenclaw wizard. However, it doesn't really have much impact on their future studies. After all, in Ian's view, attending or missing flight classes, which are still teaching low-altitude flight, makes little difference, just like whether or not you take a motorcycle driving test doesn't affect whether you can just pedal and go.
It continued until the dinner party.
Ian then noticed that his two roommates looked even worse.
They didn't have much of an appetite. Even though they had the rare opportunity to avoid fighting with their roommates for food, Ian didn't eat much of the chicken leg in front of him.
He noticed that at the Slytherin table, the Germanic girl would frequently glance in his direction, her untouched utensils clearly indicating she was thinking about the food he had mentioned.
Ian wasn't the type to talk nonsense. He glanced at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor leisurely enjoying his meal in the professor's seat, and only approached Aurora after the professor had left the table at the end of the dinner.
I had originally wanted to invite William and Michael to come along, but neither of them had any appetite at the dinner party, let alone the thought of walking a long way to the Hogwarts kitchen.
"Let's go back to sleep---sigh, anything can happen in dreams." I don't know why William and Mike said something like that with those terrified expressions.
Everyone knows they'll have nightmares.
Should I go back to sleep?
Sometimes Ian really felt out of place in his somewhat weird dorm room. Fortunately, he had a friend who was at least mostly normal.
"Your grandfather works at the school!"
In the corridor outside the Great Hall, as soon as Ian met Aurora, he dropped his disguise as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, having hoped to see a look of shock or surprise on Aurora's face.
Unexpectedly.
"I already know. Grandfather said you'd probably come to me to complain, and he told me to remember the things you said to him." Aurora's expression was a little strange.
Perhaps it was because the word "complain" was a word she hesitated to use on the spur of the moment?
Ian silently deleted all the prepared remarks from his mind. "How could I scold my professor? He really knows how to make malicious assumptions about people. I should only be grateful to him for teaching me the Patronus Charm."
His voice rose a little, and he even took out a map to confirm the location.
"OK."
Aurora nodded upon hearing this.
"You said his heart is dirty."
They even went so far as to summarize and conclude.
Ian's eyes widened immediately.
"No tattling here!"
He fell into the German girl's trap the moment he finished speaking.
"OK."
Nodding again, Aurora showed off her newfound knowledge, mimicking Ian's tone as she said, "But you have to teach me the Patronus Charm."
Concise and clear language.
It gave Ian a very familiar feeling of déjà vu.
"You are truly wicked! A cunning villain!"
Ian muttered something, and of course he didn't refuse. He glanced at the direction of the eighth floor and said, "Actually, I haven't fully learned it either, but it shouldn't be difficult for me to teach you."
"We've just finished dinner anyway, so we can practice some magic to help digest. I don't quite agree with your grandfather's teaching methods, but if you can learn the Guardian Charm tonight, I'll show you the Pokémon I found today." As he spoke, Ian ran ahead.
Seeing Aurora catch up, he didn't forget to remind her, "That's a lost Dementor. You can't tell our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—Dementors are extremely dangerous to you. Just look at my two roommates, so you have to learn the Patronus Charm first."
Aurora nodded, following behind Ian.
"Isn't it dangerous for you?"
Her tone was full of curiosity.
"I feel like it's a puppy, so well-behaved... -- That's probably because I used to face the gale with my longsword all the time!" Ian led Aurora to the House of Requirement.
After confirming that no one was around, [they] made sure that no one was nearby.
He then silently recited the name of the room where the things were hidden and led Aurora into it.
The gate slowly closed and then gradually disappeared, emerging from the owl hut in the distant west tower.
It seemed that Gilderoy Grindelwald, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, had deliberately taken a detour. He pursed his lips at the spot where the door had disappeared before returning to his Defense Against the Dark Arts office on the third floor via the stairs.
"Phew~"
The candles in the office lit up automatically.
It illuminated the dimly lit room.
Dumbledore, who had been somewhere before but had now returned to the school, was waiting here. He was leaning against the table with his head down, seemingly playing with something in his hand.
Professor Gilderoy Grindelwald of the Defense Against the Dark Arts was not at all surprised.
"The Ministry of Magic has lost a Dementor, Gellert. We agreed not to break the law." Dumbledore looked up at the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had entered the room.
He frowned slightly.
Grindelwald, who had been looking at Gilderoy Lockhart's physique and appearance, tilted his head. His physique remained unchanged, but his face began to distort and change amidst crackling sounds.
soon.
That aged yet handsome face reappeared. This was a Transfiguration technique that very few could master, its difficulty second only to the Animagus, one of the highest achievements in Transfiguration.
Transfiguration is a sophisticated form of magic that allows wizards to alter their appearance, even completely mimicking another person. This type of transfiguration differs significantly from Disguise Magus and Polyjuice Potion; it requires no innate ability or the aid of potions, only advanced skill and knowledge.
Hogwarts' library lacked books on this subject for some reason, so it was clear that Ian had guessed wrong about Grindelwald's transformation in broad daylight.
"Your Ministry of Magic won't admit they've lost anything, so the law remains firmly in place and unbroken." Grindelwald walked to his desk.
His hands and body are still the younger Lockhart version.
In his early years, Gellert Grindelwald was already proficient in this magic, using Transfiguration on numerous occasions to disguise himself, reduce potential trouble, or conduct secret activities. Although his physical abilities may not be as good as before, his magical prowess and application of various knowledge have undoubtedly reached a new peak.
Physical ability has never been a limitation for wizards.
"Teaching those young wizards doesn't require Dementors. I brought you here so that you could look after the students while I'm not around, instead of sending them to the infirmary." Dumbledore looked directly into Grindelwald's eyes, his tone tinged with displeasure.
The best care is teaching them how to survive. Grindelwald still seemed to have conflicting ideas with Dumbledore, but it wasn't an irreconcilable contradiction.
Dumbledore merely frowned.
They did not continue to refute.
"Bobby has a lot to say about you; she was incredibly busy this afternoon, but she didn't choose to report you to the Ministry of Magic." The Bobby Dumbledore was referring to was Madam Pomfrey in the school infirmary.
I will personally go and thank our school doctor. Who could refuse a famous writer who admits their mistakes but is sincere and even brings gifts to their door?
Grindelwald's face transformed into Gilderoy Lockhart's again, but only for a few seconds before returning to normal. "I found out he was really popular at school. The flattery from everyone made me feel young again. It's just a shame that when I brag to them, all I can do is tell them about Lockhart."
After several more transformations, Grindelwald mimicked his posture in front of people. In Grindelwald's hands, the ability to transform was almost like a magical animal's innate instinct.
"First year—that's still a bit too early." Faced with his old friend's vivid imitation, Dumbledore was more concerned about the education at Hogwarts.
He sighed heavily.
"However, perhaps you are right."
Although Dumbledore was aware of Grindelwald's teaching methods and content, partly because of the two first-year students, he couldn't guarantee that Grindelwald's educational philosophy was absolutely wrong. After all, he had been on the verge of death more than once in the past few days.
A storm may come.
Therefore, self-preservation skills are indeed something that young wizards should learn... Dumbledore held the little gadget in his hand, a complex emotion flashing across his eyes. In the end, he chose to adapt to the status quo, which could be considered a compromise with his old friend that did not cross the line.
"You know what kind of situation I don't want to see."
of course.
Some reminders are still necessary.
"I will be very careful." Grindelwald had actually compromised to some extent. After all, the young wizards were just sulking, which was far from enough to force their potential out of them.
"Do you have any leads on that letter that led to Ronnie Ehrlich's death?" Dumbledore stopped dwelling on the teaching methods and instead became more serious and cautious.
Upon hearing this, Grindelwald became serious. He took out two letters from his desk drawer that were identical in appearance and details, with only slight differences in content.
"Before I even sent my letter, Ronnie received a forged letter. That person was really amazing. He even predicted what I would write and made changes that wouldn't arouse suspicion. Even I, looking at his letter, couldn't tell the slightest bit of trickery."
Grindelwald opened the two letters and laid their contents out on the table. As he had said, the contents of the two letters were virtually identical, even in the smallest details.
Only in giving instructions to Ronnie Ehrlich did the forger use the pretext of a greater interest.
Grindelwald altered the instructions he originally intended to give to Ronnie Ehrlich. Ronnie Ehrlich, failing to notice anything amiss, chose to die at his student's hands based on those instructions.
"He ordered Ronnie Ehrlich to drink alcohol, which was clearly an oversight that would be discovered. If you had given Ronnie Ehrlich poison, I don't think he would have questioned your orders."
Dumbledore stared at the two letters, which still sent chills down his spine, his eyes gleaming. He really couldn't imagine what kind of prophet could perform such a terrifyingly accurate operation.
"Heh, don't mistake me for one of the other professors you hired. You can't possibly not see that." Grindelwald's gaze also fell on the two letters he had laid out on the table.
"It's as if this forged letter wasn't taken away; it was still lying in my office drawer when I arrived."
"It's an absolute, confident mockery, a kind of contempt and disdain for me." Grindelwald's voice was excited. "I'll find this guy; he's given me an interesting challenge."
His face showed a range of emotions.
There was no fear or cowardice.
"Is this mysterious guy at school?"
Dumbledore asked the question that concerned him most.
"I'm afraid he's never been here at all. If he could have sneaked in, why would he have tricked the young wizard into going to Hogsmeade Village? He couldn't possibly be using a trick on us again."
Grindelwald made a fairly reasonable judgment.
This is similar to Dumbledore's assessment.
The old bee nodded.
He tossed the little gadget he'd been fiddling with onto the office desk. "Back to our other problem, how many of these are left?"
The sound of the collision was crisp.
It is a small and exquisite locket ornament.
The main body is likely made of some precious metal, with a finely carved and polished surface, and the gemstones set in it emit a faint luster. The luster is somewhat dim, but its appearance alone tells you it was expensive. It also features some ancient inscriptions, exquisitely crafted.
"I'm just playing the role of a writer. In reality, I'm just a prophet, Albus. You're too greedy. How could I possibly know everything in this world?" Grindelwald didn't seem inclined to look at it. He seemed to disdain the things on the table, even moving his chair away from the ancient and mysterious locket on the table.
"I can only tell you that there should be more than one." Grindelwald's words reflected Dumbledore's concerns. Although he had long known that the stubborn man from years ago might have used this method to escape death, he never imagined that the madman would dare to cut his own soul multiple times.
This will lead to an ultimate and irreversible fate.
It is also a very troublesome problem for living people.
"The potential risks are too great."
Dumbledore's eyes flickered as he stared at the locket on the table. "Are you in such a hurry to get rid of your student? I've never seen you so anxious before." Grindelwald raised an eyebrow, his tone relaxed and teasing. "Why must you do it yourself? If you escape death once, it will come countless times. Those who deceive Death never end well."
His words of comfort were spoken softly.
But Dumbledore's brow did not unfurrow.
"I know what you're worried about, Albus. With me here with you, the students here will truly be safe. The only thing we need to worry about is—"
Grindelwald was interrupted before he could finish speaking.
"Is there anything else we can see?"
Dumbledore, who persisted, had a hint of pleading in his eyes.
Grindelwald was slightly taken aback.
However, he still sighed and shook his head in response, "In fact, I can see this disgusting thing."
Or is it because it's related to a painful experience you'll have to endure in the future?
"It was because of our handshake that I saw it—even though my research on fate is far ahead of yours, the more detailed the prophecy, the stronger the connection I need with the target of the prophecy." Grindelwald placed his hand on the locket as if he were forcing himself to resist.
His eye changed color only for a fleeting moment.
"Why not go and ask our Dark Lord himself? He's right there, in the Albanian forest—phew, the evil Dark Lord is hunting a rat."
"It's a real mouse," Grindelwald said jokingly, as he withdrew his hand and went to the sink to vigorously wash his palms.
He truly felt contempt and disgust for someone like Voldemort. Horcruxes, if they were really that useful, how could there only be a handful of users?
History has never lacked people of extraordinary talent.
"Remember what I did for you, Albus. I feel like I'll be tainted with misfortune if I touch this stuff." Grindelwald shook the water off his hands and came back.
"I know he's there."
Dumbledore then spoke slowly.
Grindelwald's expression stiffened slightly.
"unlucky!"
In the end, he could only vent his resentment on the locket on the table.
"We can't catch him there. He's faster than anyone else, and if he finds out we've discovered his secret, he'll become more timid and wary than anyone else." Dumbledore looked at the locket on the table, the evil dark magic and spirit still lingering on it.
"I will search carefully along the path of his life. If you make any new discoveries, be sure to tell me." Dumbledore said as he walked toward the front door.
"certainly."
As he watched Dumbledore walk toward the front door, Grindelwald's thoughts seemed to drift back to the morning a few days earlier, and the scene he had witnessed at that time resurfaced in his mind.
"Albus, I'm choosing to help you as always." Grindelwald seemed to be responding to Dumbledore's request, but his eyes, which had turned white imperceptibly, seemed to be recalling information from a few days ago.
It was a peculiar ring sealed away in a dilapidated old house.
"Thank you, Gellert. I've always just wanted you to look after the school and not do too much, okay?" Dumbledore suddenly turned around and instructed.
Grindelwald's eyes had already returned to normal a moment earlier.
"Not a single student will die."
Grindelwald smiled.
Dumbledore's sigh grew louder. He stood at the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, hesitated for a moment, and then asked Grindelwald a question.
"Is Gilderoy Lockhart still alive? He was supposed to be the substitute professor at the school. I never expected that you would find a replacement so soon after I left."
"I was thinking of arranging a more relaxed position for you."
Although Dumbledore's ability to invite Gilderoy Lockhart already indicated that he had chosen the consumables, his style of doing things was ultimately somewhat different from Grindelwald's.
"I only want the job I choose."
Done.
Grindelwald added further.
"Actually, I'm very willing to share my memories of Gilderoy Lockhart with you. If you've also seen what's in his head, you'll definitely approve of my arrangements for Gilderoy Lockhart."
"Don't worry, he's not dead. I promised you I would only kill the dark wizard—"
Grindelwald's words made Dumbledore nod, and without asking any further questions, he opened the door and went out. Watching the door slowly close...
Grindelwald let out a slight sigh of relief and closed his eyes as if he were somewhat tired.
Dealing with Dumbledore is not easy.
"The Resurrection Stone, that monstrous thing can't be allowed to be seen by Albus—hmm, hopefully Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart will be satisfied with my arrangements for him too."
While Grindelwald was resting and relaxing.
Austria.
Night falls.
Neumont Castle seemed to be gently veiled by a mysterious black veil. Moonlight filtered through sparse clouds, casting its glow on the ancient and mottled stone walls, adding a touch of eeriness and melancholy to this abandoned castle.
The castle's outline is clearly visible under the moonlight, with towers reaching into the clouds, yet it remains desolate to this day for various reasons.
Many people are afraid to get close.
Even the Ministry of Magic officials in charge of this area are the same.
most of the time.
The branches and leaves of the trees cast dappled shadows in the moonlight. The forest surrounding the castle was exceptionally quiet at night, with only the occasional call of night birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind.
However, today was different. The atmosphere was so intense that even the local Ministry of Magic personnel, who were very far away and only dared to observe with telescope-like devices, felt somewhat puzzled.
What were they staring at behind bars? This unusual reaction made it seem as if their daily goals of drinking tea, playing chess, and collecting half a lifetime's salary were no longer the same.
"Perhaps it's related to Albus Dumbledore's recent visit?"
Some people offered their guesses.
then.
Several Ministry of Magic officials exchanged glances, suddenly realizing what was happening, and then resumed their game of Wizards' Chess.
They did not continue to observe the castle, which was very, very far away from them.
It's not that I neglected my duties.
Their superiors assigned them only to play chess here, checking on them every few hours.
Whether that person is still inside or not is not something they need to worry about.
after all.
Everyone knows what the current Minister of Magic of Austria did in the past; everyone else is paid a salary.
They're just trying to make a living. Even if there's no one inside, they'd just assume that person is sleeping under the bed. If you actually asked them to go check, no fool would go. Is the pay not high enough, or are lives not precious enough?
"Let me out! This is a conspiracy! This is persecution!"
"You can't do this! I need to see Dumbledore! I need to see Dumbledore!"
The gates of Neumont Castle were tightly shut, the rust on the iron gates gleaming dimly in the moonlight. The path in front of the gate was long overgrown with weeds and vines.
Inside the heavy iron bars.
Grindelwald was screaming at the top of his lungs, clinging to the window, but the unguarded Nurmengard Castle was only accompanied by the locked iron gates and the sound of the waves outside the iron windows. A simple unlocking spell could solve the problem, but even without losing his wand, he probably wouldn't be able to cast such a simple spell.
Perhaps it was the Oblivion Curse that made Gilderoy Lockhart forget his past while plundering, after all, he spent most of his life stealing the glory of others and living in their past.
now.
Fate was not actually harsh on Gilderoy Lockhart; it responded to his needs once again, giving him a truly glorious past to immerse himself in.
How amazing.
Aurora's talent is truly amazing.
She was at least more skilled than most of the young wizards Ian had ever seen, and she could even quickly learn the spells taught to her by the Divine Sword and Shadow, but for some reason she couldn't master the Guardian Charm.
Ian chose to teach Aurora in an empty room, but despite his detailed instructions during practice, Aurora's wand only managed to maintain a state where silver threads were visible.
Several hours of practice.
The number remained very small and did not increase significantly.
"Protect the Gods!"
Aurora's final attempt also ended in failure. She gripped her wand tightly, took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself, recalling the warm and happy moments of her life. Her wand merely flickered at the tip, emitting a small, faint glimmer of silver light before falling silent.
Like a fleeting shooting star in the night sky.
"It's okay, take your time. Maybe I'm just not good enough at teaching right now. Of course, you're probably not happy either, but that's easy to fix—you wait, I'll ask my good uncle Snape to brew you a potion of happiness." Ian was still comforting Aurora as he left the Room of Requirement.
"Is there such a blissful potion for practicing the Patronus Charm?" Aurora wasn't really concerned; she was just frowning and trying hard to recall the various recipes.
"Okay, the half-blood prince can't really be used as Doraemon, so let's create some happy memories instead. Maybe eating hot pot will become one of your happy memories!"
Ian led Aurora to the kitchen where the house-elves always stayed.
"What is Doraemon?" Aurora followed closely behind, looking around with great curiosity at the paintings that were different from those in the other hallways as she walked into the hallway before entering the kitchen.
"It's a happy memory for me." Ian scratched the pear on the huge painting, and the pear giggled and dodged away, turning into a green doorknob.
Aurora looked quite surprised.
Ian waited for the pear to turn back to its original form so she could scratch it again—the door was opened, and the enthusiastic house-elves would respond to every little wizard who could find the Hogwarts kitchen.
"So many house-elves!" Aurora was utterly astonished by the sight of the room filled with alien heads. She had probably never seen so many house-elves gathered together before. Indeed, Hogwarts had over a hundred house-elves performing various tasks.
Even families with deep-rooted traditions don't have a similar presence.
Most wizarding families are considered well-off if they have one house-elves; even wealthy families like the Malfoys don't have the luxury of keeping too many house-elves.
To know.
Don't be fooled by the fact that house-elves are tamed and obedient; most of them possess extremely powerful magic, far surpassing that of many adult, graduated wizards. Aside from places like Hogwarts,
The Ministry of Magic would not allow any family to possess such an "army" without permission.
"Little wizard! Little wizard!"
Someone was seen entering.
The house-elves all turned their heads, their faces filled with joy and excitement, and a hint of eager anticipation. As if they had rehearsed for a long time, they bowed to the two of them in unison.
"Mr. Prince has brought his rule-breaking friend!" Rabbi clearly recognized Aurora.
And they have already remembered Aurora's violation of school rules.
"Hot pot! Same old rules! Slice the meat thinly! Add extra chili!" Ian walked to his usual spot, where the house-elves had already set up the copper pot.
This is a scene that would absolutely infuriate Snape to death if he saw it: bone broth, chili peppers, ginger slices, and other seasonings being skillfully added to the cauldron by the house-elves.
The fragrance spread quickly.
The broth in the pot bubbled and simmered, the red flames leaping across the surface. The little elves took turns bringing out various ingredients with exquisite silver cutlery. There were rare mushrooms picked from the depths of the forbidden forest, fresh vegetables supplied daily by the school, and specially processed meats.
Every ingredient was prepared perfectly. Professional tasks should indeed be handled by professionals.
Ian may have excellent knife skills, but he certainly couldn't bring out the best in seasoning.
While waiting for the ingredients to cook, Aurora smelled the aroma in the air and couldn't help but sniff. She then looked around at the house-elves who seemed to always be busy. These elves were wearing the same uniform—a tea towel printed with the Hogwarts emblem.
They wrapped tea towels around their bodies like robes, busily and orderly moving around them, preparing food while also acting as their most attentive waiters.
"Mr. Prince's favorite beef slices! Harpy cut them very thinly!" An old, familiar house elf brought over a plate containing thinly sliced beef as well as some seafood.
It was probably not fished out of the Black Lake.
"Perhaps the students of Hufflepuff are much happier than us." Aurora watched the house-elves preparing food, and she roughly guessed where the food would be sent.
"Hufflepuffs never go hungry, that's their motto," Ian replied while scalding beef. In fact, each house has its own geographical advantages.
"Try this!"
He threw the scalding hot beef into Aurora's bowl.
Aurora, who hadn't eaten much dinner, immediately used her fork to put a slice of beef into her mouth.
"The taste is not bad."
Her eyes lit up.
"Yes, yes, it tastes good. Here, have some more." While Ian ate, he didn't forget to put food on Aurora's plate, especially the ones that were covered in broth.
Ian's attentiveness gradually made Aurora, who was engrossed in her meal, realize that something was amiss.
"I want some water!"
Aurora didn't know when it started, but suddenly she felt a burning sensation in her mouth and stomach, so she quickly asked the little elf Rabi for a glass of lemonade.
Little Rabi, unaware that he had escaped death the previous night, happily made Aurora a glass of fresh lemonade. Only after receiving Aurora's praise did he go about his other business.
only.
In its words, Aurora still didn't have her own name; she was just "a friend of Mr. Prince who broke school rules but also liked to drink lemonade like Mr. Prince."
"It's so spicy, how can you say you can feel happy?" Aurora's face turned red from the spiciness. She kept sticking out her tongue and drinking lemon water, tilting her head in confusion.
"Happiness usually needs time to settle."
Seeing that Aurora was getting a little dizzy from the spiciness, Ian finally put down the serving chopsticks with satisfaction, stopped serving Aurora food, and began to focus on his own meal.
"By the way, you can eat some of this too. It's called 'See You Tomorrow'—it's generally good for relieving constipation."
The moonlight was as clear as if it had been washed.
Silver light spilled over the tower. The windows shone brightly in the night, then, with the gentle footsteps of the approaching night, one by one, they slowly went out and fell silent.
The ghosts of Hogwarts have arrived at their castle, while the young wizards, having washed away their weariness, become visitors to their dreams, taking on the role of adventurers in their own unique world.
Ian is a rare exception.
Unlike the students who chose to spend the night out, he leisurely returned to Ravenclaw's common room after escorting Aurora back to Slytherin and giving her a mysterious smile.
But after returning to his dormitory, he washed up and went to bed early to prepare for sleep.
His destination tonight is a different land from his dreamland.
Before falling asleep.
Ian put three boxes of Chocolate Frogs into his bed, and after thinking for a moment, he added a few bags of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and Jelly. Everything was packed into a huge backpack.
Snacks, recycled secondhand textbooks, writhing demon eggs, an old-fashioned camera borrowed from an upperclassman... -- Ian looked like he was about to have a camping trip in his own bed.
If it weren't for the fact that most books borrowed from the library cannot be copied using the double-copy method...
Michael, who might wake up in the middle of the night to pee, might exclaim in surprise that Ian is actually the kind of person who secretly studies hard under the covers—but what can you do? Ian promised to bring as much current knowledge as possible to Professor Morgan.
Gifts for the other people were also essential. To avoid losing anything he brought in due to unforeseen circumstances, Ian spent a considerable amount of money buying books that the upperclassmen didn't want. This concern led him to decide, after much deliberation, to forgo bringing the book "Mind Manipulation: From Legilimency to Soul Stealing."
While it was very useful in exposing Professor Morgan's disguise, Ian didn't want to experience Mrs. Pince's feather duster, nor did he want to become a member of the library's blacklist.
"Hopefully, things won't veer off course again. Perhaps Teacher Mara knows what method Aurora's grandfather used this morning to circumvent my magic—"
He kept repeating himself in his mind, and Ian's eyes gradually grew heavy, slowly returning him from a deep sleep to full wakefulness.
The familiar feeling carried him across the boundary between life and death once again.
"My dear teacher! Have you had dinner yet?"
I opened my eyes again.
The magnificent hall was familiar to Ian, who immediately looked towards the bench. Sure enough, the witch was idly flipping through a book and looked up at him.
"It seems you've traveled to a new area." I don't know if this judgment is based on time, but it's unlikely. After all, Ian's seven days could be seven days in the Illusory Realm, or it could be three months in the Illusory Realm. Here, the concept of time is always separate from the real world and has no regularity.
"Teacher, these are the snacks I brought for you, and some new books." Ian shook some of the snacks onto the table, but the witch's eyes were only on the textbooks.
There was no excitement.
On the contrary, they were somewhat disgusted.
"If this is all the knowledge your era has to offer, then you have perhaps already regressed to the primitive stage," the witch sharply commented on the Hogwarts textbooks.
This is different from Snape's sharp tongue and ruthless directness.
"Actually, these are all for early childhood education. There are also many rare books that I dare not bring in. If I can't take them back, I may be severely punished."
Ian gave a truthful answer.
"Your magic."
The witch looked Ian up and down, frowned, and said, "Haven't you reached your limit yet?"
Her words startled Ian slightly.
He couldn't help but look at his personal panel.
Name: Ian Prince Occupation: Bloodline Warlock Magic Power: Level 8 (In the midst of explosive leap)
Skill: [Enlightenment of Wisdom [This skill cannot be upgraded]]
What exactly constitutes a limit?
Ian sensed some message in the witch's words.
"You'll sense it when you reach it; it should be soon. The afterglow of the golden apple will also disappear at that time." The witch seemed to be able to see the magic within Ian through his body.
"What happens when you reach your limit?" That was actually what Ian was concerned about. The witch looked at him and propped her face up with one hand on the long table.
"Maybe it'll be your voice that explodes, and then you'll be here with me forever." She smiled, her tone full of teasing.
"I want to live for several more decades—"
Ian Mountain smiled.
The witch didn't tease him any further. Instead, she propped her face up and explained, "When any wizard's magic reaches its limit, they will have a clearer perception of illusions and even be able to sense whether the person they want to see has arrived. I think you might be a little more special than us."
This legendary witch was clearly only speculating.
"I visited Lady Ravenclaw's place last time." Ian was moved again, but before he could finish speaking, he remembered that she was a witch who was much older than Hogwarts. He quickly made up an explanation, "Lady Ravenclaw is one of the founders of our Hogwarts."
Upon hearing this...
The witch nodded.
He held up the book he was reading, and the author's name was none other than Rowena Ravenclaw, the founder who left behind many books for posterity.
"Ms. Ravenclaw seems to be certain that my Animagus is a raven. Do you know why?" Ian had actually been thinking about what happened back then.
"Because you're as free-spirited as a bird?"
The witch did not give Ian the answer he wanted.
"What a powerful witch she was! What did she teach you?"
She raised an eyebrow and changed the subject.
"Transfiguration".
Ian looked at the wall, and the witch raised her hand, and the picture frame she used turned into a wand that flew into Ian's hand. He then reported his success in learning to his teacher.
A display.
Ian beamed, ready to receive the praise.
however.
"Perfect timing. Your current skill level is sufficient; perhaps you can begin repairing my guards—if you've been diligently studying the alchemy I've taught you."
The witch's gaze turned scrutinizing. She never expected that demonstrating her current improvement would immediately earn her a demanding and potentially arduous task.
Is this what happens to those who are capable?!
"Of course I've studied, and I even made a really good piece, but I didn't have time to make a second one." Ian hesitated for a moment before tentatively asking.
"Perhaps next time I come, I can help you repair those damaged guards, teacher? Today I want to go to town to see Ariana and Pendro."
"I have a message from Ariana's family that I need to give her." Ian thought the witch would at least be displeased, but to his surprise, the witch just pursed her lips and nodded in agreement.
"This was your mission."
She didn't even bother to ask what was going on; she simply looked Ian over again with a slightly strange gaze, and then spoke with a hint of surprise.
"I really didn't expect you to be so calm and collected. You're still keeping your bad intentions to yourself. I thought you would have lost your temper five minutes ago."
A very abrupt evaluation.
This left Ian somewhat bewildered.
He quickly realized what was happening.
"This must be mind reading, right? No! This is soul-stealing!" Ian had been trying to create a dramatic scene, but the witch, who had no sense of martial ethics, was the first to expose it.
"Do you really need mind reading to understand your little thoughts?"
The witch rolled her eyes.
"From the moment you appeared, you've been calling me 'teacher' instead of 'Teacher Mara'—I was just trying to trick you, but I didn't expect you to actually find something."
She was smiling happily.
It was as if Ian had provided her with months of happiness.
"Did you learn that while you were helping me find the mirror? Soul-stealing... Yes, that's exactly what that child understood. You certainly seemed to be putting in the effort to help me find the mirror."
The witch looked at Ian with approval.
Ian, of course, wouldn't explain.
"I encountered a little trouble when I used this magic. A professor used some kind of molting-like method to resist my mental attack."
He was more interested in knowing how to trick Old Bitden, the Defense Against Magic professor, next time.
"Pfft, you even want to control the professor, you're getting worse and worse." The witch's eyes flickered with surprise as she tore a tiny piece off her dress.
I suspect your professor is quite familiar with legatomic thinking, but his methods aren't particularly sophisticated; he merely created a shapeshifting entity to mislead your mental focus.
"Hmm, he might also be proficient in shapeshifting." The fragment of the dress the witch threw at Ian was clearly the solution, and Ian immediately caught it as if it were a treasure.
"Thank you, my mentor—or perhaps I should call you Teacher Morgan?" Ian looked at the small fragment of the dress in his hand, a vague sense of anticipation already rising for the next Black Magic exchange class.
"My apprentice, haven't you noticed anything else besides this?" The witch looked at the two other snacks and chocolate frogs that Ian had brought.
"I also discovered that my senior sister actually regrets her betrayal? She's been filled with guilt towards you her whole life." Ian blinked, speaking somewhat uncertainly.
"I know that—I did it on purpose." The witch still maintained the posture of propping her face up with one hand while reading, looking somewhat languid, with a bright smile on her delicate and beautiful face.
"Actually, I wasn't dead when she died."
Good guy!
Case solved!
No wonder I didn't see that cheap senior sister here.
"???"
Ian has gained a new understanding and appreciation of bad women.
Poor senior sister.
I'm afraid they really will die without seeing it.