And no, it wasn't because he was scheming to lure Lily out.
Of course, if he did manage to win Lily over, Ian was pretty sure his dear uncle wouldn't mind playing the role of the Dark Lord for a while.
Yes, yes! That would be the perfect opportunity for the Third Generation's rise to power!
Ian's eyes lit up as he considered how to make it happen. Just then, Harry hesitated, then spoke up again, unable to hold back another question.
"Ian, do you know what happened to Malfoy?" Harry Potter had wanted to ask that question for a long time; he just hadn't found the right moment until now.
As Malfoy's roommate, he couldn't ignore his disappearance.
Unlike the other students, Harry knew what had really happened that night. There was no way he could believe the "official" explanation that Malfoy had left school due to family matters.
Harry was certain that something terrible had happened to Malfoy. This certainty filled him with guilt because deep down, he feared that whatever had happened to Malfoy was somehow connected to him.
That was why, even though he didn't particularly like his roommate, he still wanted to know if Malfoy was alive. The last thing he wanted was to find out that his actions had gotten Malfoy killed.
"As for that question…"
Ian honestly didn't know how to answer. He was sure that Dumbledore wouldn't want news of the matter involving Malfoy and Riddle to spread. If he told Harry Potter the truth, that would practically mean telling the entire school.
Everyone who knew the Boy Who Lived knew he couldn't keep a secret.
It wasn't because he didn't want to; But rather, he simply lacked the talent for it.
With that thought, Ian hesitated for a moment, then decided to bluff.
"Mr. Potter," Ian said finally, raising his head with a faint, meaningful smile. "You're very lucky. Truly, incredibly lucky."
His eyes glimmered strangely in the candlelight, filled with an emotion that was hard to read.
"What?"
Harry blinked, swallowing nervously.
"I mean," Ian continued, pausing deliberately and leaning forward slightly, "you're very lucky..."
His fork tapped lightly against the edge of his plate—a simple psychological trick to build tension.
"Because some people… aren't as lucky as you."
He lowered his voice deliberately, imitating the mysterious, cryptic tone that others often used when they wanted to sound ominous. Having spent so much time around riddle-speakers, Ian had perfected the act.
"Gulp,"
Sure enough, Harry froze.
His Adam's apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed, and his pupils shrunk sharply behind his glasses. His fingers unconsciously clenched the hem of his robes.
A textbook display of nervousness.
"I, I don't understand," Harry stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. Ian's words sounded half like a riddle and half like a warning, sending Harry's imagination spiraling into all sorts of wild guesses.
"Eat up," Ian said simply, smiling as he picked up his utensils again. "The raspberry pudding's good today."
Ian returned to his meal, leaving Harry alone with his anxious thoughts.
Indeed, playing the mysterious riddler was oddly satisfying.
There was a certain wicked pleasure in toying with someone's emotions.
Ian had to admit that he kind of understood the appeal now.
Just then, Snape stood abruptly from the staff table. His black robes billowed behind him like a bat's wings as he strode toward the Slytherin table and stopped right in front of Harry.
"Harry... Potter."
Snape's voice was thick with disdain. "It seems that you're too idle for your own good. You can't even eat your dinner in peace, can you? Perfect. I just happen to need a test subject to help refine a particularly dangerous experiment."
He put extra emphasis on the word "dangerous," clearly just to frighten Harry. It worked; the Boy Who Lived stumbled backward several steps in alarm.
"Come to my office. Now."
Snape didn't give him the slightest chance to refuse.
"E–experiment subject?!"
Harry looked at Ian in panic, but Ian merely shrugged and calmly took another bite of his pudding.
With that, Snape grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes as though he were lifting a misbehaving child and marched him straight toward the doors of the Great Hall.
"Let me go!"
Harry Potter's struggle wasn't fierce; his hands just flailed uselessly in the air. What else could you expect? He was a Slytherin, after all, lacking the reckless Gryffindor bravado.
"Uncle really knows how to scare people," Ian remarked, amused. Of course, he didn't think Snape would actually harm Harry. He knew Snape was simply savoring the joy of terrifying Harry.
"You scared him quite a bit yourself just now."
Aurora dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin, revealing the sadistic streak they shared.
"I only told the truth," Ian replied smoothly, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. The liquid shimmered a strange reddish-orange—clearly another one of the kitchen elves' "creative experiments."
"Actually, I was thinking of giving Snape a little surprise," Ian added, trying to shift the topic toward Lily. But Aurora clearly wasn't in the mood for that sort of fun.
"What happened with your magic this afternoon? That wasn't normal magic."
The German girl's focus was still on what she had seen earlier: a bizarre entity that should only appear in spiritual vision.
"Uh..."
Ian's previously lively expression stiffened immediately.
"Let's call it...a spontaneous condition," he said uncertainly.
"?"
Aurora's face was full of question marks.
"It's kind of like how you girls have those few uncomfortable days every month. An internal issue, you know?" Yeah, same thing. I have some inconvenient personal conditions of that sort, too."
Ian said this with a straight face, mostly because he genuinely had no idea how to explain that he might have once been a bird.
"You..." Aurora stared at him for several seconds before sighing helplessly. "You're becoming increasingly ridiculous. If I didn't know you were sane, I'd suggest you get your head checked."
Clearly, she couldn't make heads or tails of his bizarre metaphors.
"Anyway," Ian said quickly, eager to change the subject, "I'd rather know how you recognized Jörmungandr. That's not something an ordinary wizard could identify."
Unfortunately, that was not the right topic to bring up.
Aurora's eyes locked onto him, her mismatched irises gleaming with a dangerous light.
"You owe me one perfect Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson," She said, enunciating each word with deliberate precision. "Until then, don't expect me to answer any of your questions."
Clearly, this afternoon's substitute class still weighed heavily on her mind.
Ian rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.
"t was an accident. Pure accident."
He tried to laugh it off.
"Accident?" Aurora snorted as she stood and adjusted her robes. "An accident doesn't blow away a third of the classroom and leave me to clean up the mess alone."
With that, she set down her knife, stood up, and left the Great Hall, her platinum-gold hair streaming behind her. Ian watched her retreating figure, his right eyelid twitching involuntarily.
"Ah, women..."
He could never quite figure them out. As Aurora's silhouette faded from view, he sighed and turned his attention back to his plate.
"Pfft! Not potatoes! Ginger!"
So much for curry beef.
Apparently, the house-elves had added assassins to the recipe. Ian suddenly felt as though, ever since he annoyed Aurora, his luck had plummeted dramatically.
Actually, something like this had happened before.
Was it really just a coincidence?
(End of chapter.)
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