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After thinking it over, Ian decided that he didn't need to do that just yet. He carefully put the Time-Turner away again. At that moment, however, a glass bottle rolled out from the pile of ingredients.
Inside, a gray, mist-like soul body floated as if in slumber. It was the creature Ian had "contained" in the past, the soul from the Soul Hall. He had, in fact, brought it forward into the present.
This was clearly a violation of the laws of temporal crossover. However, its existence made a certain sense. Perhaps because this soul was special? After all, the Soul Hall was said to be capable of moving through different times.
"I sense danger!"
At that instant, the once-quiet soul body suddenly stirred and jolted awake as if by instinct. Its hazy, spectral eyes filled with panic as it stared in terror at the nearby Dementor.
The Dementor snapped its head up the moment it sensed the soul-body.
Its mouth juts forward sharply, sucking in air with berserk hunger as if it intends to devour the soul in a single gulp.
"Sssssshhhh~"
The Dementor inhaled like a possessed air conditioner. Fortunately, the black-robed skeleton restrained it tightly. No matter how it thrashed and struggled, it could not break free.
Meanwhile, the great gray wolf's soul-body bristled, every hair standing on end. Its gaze was locked fearfully on the Dementor outside the bottle; panic and dread were plainly visible in its eyes.
It was obvious.
For soul beings like the great gray wolf, Dementors were natural predators.
"How strange." Ian frowned, deep in thought. "Ordinary Dementors don't exert this kind of pull on souls..."
He remembered Voldemort's Horcruxes. If Dementors could easily devour fragments of souls,
Then why would anyone need the prophecy of the Boy Who Lived?
So was it that his own Dementor was somehow special? Or were the souls from the Soul Hall unique in this way? To find out the truth, he would need to locate the Soul Hall.
The gray wolf was his only lead.
This meant that he could not allow the Dementor to consume it.
"Settle down!" Ian barked at the Dementor, quickly shoving the bottle back into his robes. The black-robed skeleton forced the Dementor back down. It struggled a few more times, unwillingly, but eventually quieted down.
That much was clear.
The soul of the great gray wolf was irresistibly tempting to the Dementor. In truth, it made sense; the wolf embodied fairy tales.
What in this world could be more wondrous or beautiful than a fairy tale? The greater the beauty, the stronger the lure for a Dementor.
"Keep sucking in air like that, and I'll sew your mouth shut."
Ian's threat hit home. The Dementor instantly restrained itself, curling up tightly like a scolded child.
Its growing intelligence was becoming more apparent.
It had even realized that when little wizards said they could sew mouths shut, they actually meant it.
Once the Dementor settled down, Ian wasted no time. He raised his cauldron and began brewing a fresh batch of potions.
By the time he had completed most of the steps, it was almost time for afternoon classes.
The afternoon lesson was Defense Against the Dark Arts, one of Ian's favorites. But when he entered the classroom, he was taken aback. Today's professor was none other than the all-too-familiar "Professor Lockhart."
"Didn't the headmaster say he was away?" Ian muttered, surprised, though he asked no further questions. The room was already filling with students.
Many of the students wore wary expressions. This classroom held a lot of psychological weight for them.
No one dared to be late.
Ian didn't either. The fact that no one was willing to risk it was the best proof of the punishment that awaited the tardy.
"Why is Michael crying?"
Ian found his two roommates. At that moment, William was busy comforting the weeping Michael.
"He asked Black if she liked green tea, and she ignored him," William explained helplessly. It was a situation Ian truly hadn't expected.
"Legendary!"
Ian gave Michael a big thumbs-up.
His roommate wasn't exactly low on emotional intelligence, but when it came to matters of the heart, he became utterly ridiculous. Was this what they called being blinded by love?
They both began trying to console Michael.
Of course, William did most of the comforting.
Meanwhile, Ian was busy promoting his own "Forget-Love Potion." Although selling love potions was forbidden by the Ministry of Magic, nothing prohibited a potioneer from brewing a potion that made one forget about love.
What defined a true Potions Master?
This was the mark of a real Potions Master!
If necessary, Ian could brew a potion that would prevent someone from ever falling in love with a woman again.
Admittedly, though, there were still lingering side effects, like the possibility of suddenly turning one's affections toward men.
Of course, Ian's Niffler-sharp instincts told him that maybe those side effects didn't need fixing. After all, everyone knows that a famous potion now used as an "I can do it" aid for men was originally invented to treat heart disease.
On English soil, could such a "side effect" even be considered a side effect?
As the students began to think that Ian's Forget-Love Potion might be a stroke of genius, from the teacher's desk, 'Professor Lockhart' cleared his throat loudly and began the lesson.
The blond-haired wizard was still dressed in his flamboyant violet robes and smiling with dazzling brightness. Yet, there was none of the razor-sharp gleam that Grindelwald carried so naturally in the depths of his eyes.
"What's going on? Is this another imposter? But he doesn't seem fake either." Ian frowned inwardly, puzzled, even as the professor at the desk continued obliviously.
He was teaching earnestly.
"Today, we'll learn a simple spell: Serpensortia." Fake Lockhart waved his wand, writing the incantation across the blackboard.
The class content was much clearer and more detailed than usual. However, Ian noticed that the professor's magical power was weak. Far weaker than Grindelwald's should have been.
Granted, it was still far stronger than the average wizard's. But Grindelwald? No.
Although "Professor Lockhart" taught thoroughly and with plenty of substance, Ian couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
"Grindelwald would never be this patient!"
As Lockhart walked past his desk, Ian suddenly reached out and brushed his hand. The "professor" was clearly startled by the gesture and whipped around to glare at him fiercely.
Then,
As though nothing had happened, he calmly resumed teaching. But the moment Ian touched his hand, he understood the truth.
The so-called "Professor Lockhart" was actually his good friend, Aurora, in disguise. She was standing in for his grandfather, teaching the students in his place.
Was it an emergency?
Or maybe it was meant as training for Aurora?
Whatever the case, Ian realized he should have guessed sooner. After all, all of the Harry Potter novels he'd read had scenes just like this.
"Too bad the protagonist isn't me. Such good opportunities never fall into my lap."
Truth be told, Ian didn't care much about showing off. What pained him was missing such a rare chance.
If he'd been the one to substitute, he could have legitimately, openly taught the others some real spells! Forget Serpensortia, if outsiders saw, they might think Hogwarts didn't even have its own Unforgivable Curses!
(End of Chapter)