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Groups of three to five students made their way out of the dormitory area. Merlin, with the appearance of a blond-haired boy, blended seamlessly into the crowd of students.
He looked completely at ease, laughing and joking with a few familiar students and blending in perfectly with the group.
"This guy's shameless. Then again, old monsters always are." Ian shook his head helplessly as he watched Merlin's back disappear down the corridor.
He didn't follow him to breakfast. Instead, he turned and went back to his dormitory, where his roommates, William and Michael, were chatting. Ian casually joined their conversation.
There was no helping it; he fit into the group just as naturally.
"Hey, Ian, did you hear? Michael got toyed around by Black again yesterday!" William grinned, his tone laced with teasing.
"Huh? What did I miss?"
Ian immediately pushed aside all other thoughts as his inner gossip burned bright. Ah, how nostalgic. He had almost forgotten that he had a hopelessly lovestruck friend.
Michael's face flushed scarlet at William's teasing.
"She wasn't toying with me! She just doesn't want her friends to see us together and target me! She's only looking out for me! She really cares about me!"
Michael was truly the picture of a simple, earnest boy, hooked like a fish on Black's line.
Black's mastery of the sweet, considerate "green-tea younger sister" act was undeniable.
(Green Tea Younger Sister—people who appear innocent and pure on the outside but are calculating and cunning on the inside)
"The day before yesterday, I saw her carrying a vial of love potion." Ian added his own observation. His words immediately made Michael's eyes light up; he thought his crush meant it for him.
But then,
"I noticed yesterday it was gone. I think she already used it." Ian blinked, hoping this fact would snap his roommate out of his love-struck delusions.
But...
He had underestimated just how terrifying love-struck minds could be.
Michael's expression of disbelief lasted only a heartbeat before giving way to unshakable conviction.
"She must have been carrying it for a friend. You all know how much Rebecca loves to help others; that's why her bad friends always take advantage of her. There are plenty of nasty girls in the Slytherin crowd."
Michael's forced explanation for his "goddess" was almost painful to hear.
"... "
Ian and William exchanged a look, both at a loss for words. Then, they shook their heads in unison. As expected, you can never wake a lovesick fool. Michael embodied that truth perfectly.
"This is youth, I suppose." Ian patted Michael on the shoulder in pity, then headed straight for the dormitory bathroom. He needed to freshen up and change clothes.
Before long, it was time for class. In the Hogwarts Charms classroom, sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the dust motes drifting in the air.
The morning class wasn't hard to endure, especially since it was Charms, taught by the Ravenclaw Head of House. For Ian, the Head of House's favorite student, the experience was absolutely maxed out.
Of course.
Ian wasn't really listening to the lecture. From time to time, his gaze wandered to the elderwood wand in his hand. Merlin's words echoed in his mind as he pondered the special power of the gods.
The students and Professor Flitwick didn't notice Ian's absent-mindedness, though Professor Flitwick still made a point of occasionally calling on him.
"Ian, would you demonstrate this charm for us?" Professor Flitwick's voice came from the teacher's desk. He pretended to sweep his gaze across the class before letting it settle squarely on Ian.
The classroom instantly fell silent. Every young wizard's eyes turned toward Ian. They all knew he was the brightest student in Ravenclaw, arguably one of the most talented wizards in all of Hogwarts.
Every time he demonstrated magic, it produced something worth marveling at.
Ian nodded, stood, and gave a slight bow toward his Head of House.
"Of course, Professor."
His manners were precise not only because of Riddle's influence, but also because his bow carried another layer of meaning. Without so much as a flourish or an incantation, Ian raised his hand and cast the spell.
It was so fast.
His target was none other than Professor Flitwick himself.
"Ah?"
Flitwick hadn't anticipated this at all. He had planned to appoint a student volunteer to experience the magic firsthand. He never expected Ian's opening move to be so quick that he had no time to react.
Caught completely off guard, the Head of House was struck by the spell.
His body convulsed and his face instantly drained of color. Then, he began retching violently as if something were forcing its way up from his throat.
"Ugh!"
He doubled over, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other braced against the desk. His small frame shook uncontrollably as though he were in great pain.
Then,
A massive snot worm erupted from his mouth. Larger than Flitwick himself, the slimy creature squirmed across the floor, emitting a nauseating stench.
The classroom filled with shrieks as students clapped their hands over their mouths. Some turned away, unable to stomach the sight.
"Merlin's beard!"
A Hufflepuff student gasped in horror.
"This is disgusting!"
But his eyes never left the grotesque snot-worm writhing on the floor. It was typical Hufflepuff hypocrisy after learning some bad habits.
"Good! Very good!" Flitwick's face was still pale, but he forced himself to look up at Ian and squeeze out a strained smile, despite the lingering nausea.
"An excellent piece of magic, Ian." His voice trembled, but his tone carried genuine admiration. "Ravenclaw, twenty points!"
He awarded points immediately and decisively. Anyone could see why he so often called on Ian: the boy consistently displayed extraordinary magical talent during lessons.
With a student like that,
No Head of House would miss the chance to earn points for their house. Even though Flitwick suffered just now, the only smart move was to endure the retching and award the points since the damage was already done.
It was the kind of damage control that only an adult could master.
Ian and the rest of the students couldn't quite understand that yet. The classroom filled with whispers as students exchanged shocked looks. None of them had expected Professor Flitwick to reward Ian so generously after such a "humiliating attack."
"Thank you, Professor."
Ian smiled faintly and bowed once more.
Professor Flitwick waved his hand, signaling for Ian to sit down. Ian took a deep breath, steadying himself, and then turned to address the entire class.
"Class, Ian's demonstration was flawless. His casting was fast, and the effect was striking—exactly the kind of skill we must master in a duel."
There was a trace of emotion in the professor's tone as his gaze returned to Ian, who was now seated again. "I believe that you will one day become a remarkable dueling master, Ian!"
What a blessing that would be.
This was the true benefit of being the Head of House's favorite student.
Though the Head of House was still fighting off nausea, his fondness for Ian hadn't diminished in the slightest.
A round of applause filled the classroom. Some of the young wizards were still shaken by the sight of that monstrous snot-worm, but they had to admit that their little professor truly wielded astonishing magic.
Paying to attend this "junior professor's" lessons was definitely worth it! Unwittingly, Ian had just secured a few more customers for his private tutoring sessions.
Soon enough, the lesson ended.
Instead of heading to the Great Hall with the others, Ian made his way alone to the Room of Requirement. When he pushed the door open, he was met by a chilling aura that filled the space.
There. in the center of the room sat a black-robed skeleton. It idly toyed with a pitiful Dementor as though it were a kitten. The Dementor trembled violently but didn't dare try to flee.
Ian's eyes rested on the skeleton. A flicker of complex emotion crossed his face as though he were remembering something. Who would have thought that the once-lively goddess, radiant with vitality and balancing playfulness and regal grace, would end up like this? A cold frame of bones, barely able to comprehend most words?
"Hey, comrade. It's been a long time."
Ian spoke softly.
The black-robed skeleton slowly lifted its head. Its hollow eye sockets carried only confusion. It tilted its head, straining to understand Ian's words. At last, it lowered its skull in silence.
It continued to stroke the Dementor at its side. Perhaps this goddess hadn't truly died, yet she was far from truly alive.
(End of chapter.)