After demonstrating the charm and guiding his classmates through the basics, a few students began asking questions.
"Um, Professor," said Cho Chang, one of his Ravenclaw friends. "If we use this spell, doesn't that mean we can't talk either? Wouldn't that stop us from casting spells, too?"
Only those close to Ian dared to question his teachings.
Truthfully, Ian felt a bit guilty. The Silencing Charm was merely an unstable byproduct of his research into forbidden charms— not a fully developed spell.
However, he wasn't a first-year anymore, and his mind worked quickly enough to turn any weakness into an advantage. He flashed a mysterious smile.
"That," he said, glancing around to make sure everyone was paying attention, "is exactly the beauty of this spell. It puts everyone on equal footing. When magic fails, the most important thing is whose fists are stronger! As young people, our fists are definitely tougher than those of the old geezers, don't you think?"
It was, of course, a total stretch of logic.
But the students didn't notice.
"I get it now!" A Gryffindor student cried, slapping his forehead as if enlightened. "That's why our founder trained in swordsmanship!"
He had conveniently provided Ian with the perfect justification.
"Exactly!" Ian immediately followed up, his voice full of passion. "Master both magic and swordsmanship, and you'll be a true, perfect wizard worthy of inheriting the will of our founders!"
He secretly used a tiny charm to stir the crowd's emotions, and the atmosphere in the common room heated up instantly.
Taking advantage of the moment, Ian began promoting his latest "creation," The Complete Swordsmanship of King Arthur.
"I want to learn! Me too!"
Voices rose one after another; the enthusiasm was overwhelming.
No one questioned whether Ian's book about swordsmanship was real.
However, Ian didn't start teaching it on the spot. It wasn't because he planned to charge for it later; it was because he didn't actually have the book yet.
He would have to "acquire" it from somewhere else later that night, by hook or by crook.
Of course, letting Ariana come out and teach wasn't impossible. However, Ian was concerned that if Dumbledore started attending class daily, his loyal study group would probably be scared away.
When the small evening class finally ended, Ian went back to the dorms, took a shower, and chatted with William about gossip regarding Michael's love life.
Once William began his nightly "study grind" and Michael started snoring, Ian quietly left the dormitory.
He headed straight for the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor.
"Time for some alone time again!"
With practiced ease, Ian walked back and forth in front of the tapestry depicting the troll clubbing Barnabas the Barmy three times, silently picturing what he needed. A smooth door gradually appeared in the wall.
Pushing it open, Ian stepped into a spacious room.
In the center stood a tall, black-robed skeleton with soulfire flickering in its hollow eye sockets. In one corner, a Dementor floated listlessly in midair. The air around it was noticeably colder than the rest of the room.
"Good evening, buddies," Ian said casually as he walked to the potion workbench on the far side. The black-robed skeleton responded with a series of clicking noises. The Dementor drifted closer, seemingly pleased by Ian's arrival—if such a creature could feel happiness at all.
Still, not being treated as a plaything by the black-robed skeleton anymore was enough to evoke some emotion in the Dementor.
"All right, I should test this out."
Seeing the skeleton pacing aimlessly, Ian suddenly had an idea.
He set down the potion ingredients in his hands.
"νδειξοντφσου, Στλβω!"
This was "Lumos" in Ancient Greek. Ian invoked the authority of the Sun God once again. Outside, no one knew if the real sun had risen in the night sky.
But a beam of golden radiance pierced the ceiling and gathered at the tip of Ian's wand.
The light carried the warmth of the sun itself.
It filled the entire room and sent the Dementor fleeing into the shadows. The beam shone on the skeleton, but the figure stood silently and unmoving.
Only the faint flickering of soul-fire in its eye sockets gave it away.
"Still not working?"
Ian frowned slightly in disappointment, but he wasn't ready to give up.
With a thought, a thread of golden light, fine as a strand of hair, separated from the glowing mass. It flowed like liquid sunlight toward the skeleton.
The instant it touched the bony fingers, delicate golden patterns spread across the pale surface like countless capillaries under translucent skin.
"It works!"
Ian's eyes lit up with excitement.
He poured all the remaining golden light into the skeleton. The gold glow rapidly spread, tracing ancient and mysterious symbols over every bone.
Clack, clack, clack!
The skeleton's jaw began to move involuntarily. The dim soul fire in its sockets was replaced entirely by golden light. Slowly, it raised one bony hand as if incredulous at the transformation overtaking its body.
The first change began in the bone marrow; the once-dry cavities were filled with dark red, gel-like matter. It was as though life essence itself was being poured in by invisible hands. The substance flowed through the hollow channels, making a faint gurgling sound.
Then it seeped from tiny openings at the ends of the bones and extended into pulsating veins.
The veins crawled over the bones like living things. The main trunks ran along the long bones while the branching vessels wrapped around each ridge and groove like vines.
When the major arteries finally formed, the entire skeleton shuddered. At the place where a heart should have been, a thick vessel twitched violently and then began beating steadily.
"Thump... thump..."
The faint but distinct sound of a heartbeat echoed through the silent room.
With each rhythmic pulse, more capillaries branched out from the main vessel. They slowly wove a complex network of nerves and vessels that spread across the black-robed skeleton's entire body.
"So that's it! You wanted fatherly love?"
Ian held his breath, suddenly feekling enlightened.
He saw pink tissue beginning to appear between the skeleton's ribs. First, a thin layer of fascia appeared. Then, bright red muscle fibers appeared, writhing like countless tiny snakes as they intertwined and fused together at their attachment points.
Before his eyes, solid slabs of muscle took shape across the bones.
First, the small muscle groups around the knuckles. Then, the flexors and extensors of the forearm. Then, full, powerful biceps...
But at that moment, the transformation abruptly stopped.
The growth of flesh had reached a bottleneck.
It was alive, but not fully.
The creature had changed from a mere skeleton into something even more grotesque: a skinned abomination half-covered in muscle. From its vacant, glowing eyes, Ian could tell that the creature still had no memory or consciousness.
"Right, no wonder you don't even have a brain yet."
Ian stepped forward and lifted the top of the skeleton's skull.
Inside, there was no pulsating brain, only a blob of half-formed, jelly-like matter.
"Looks like your old man's fatherly love wasn't that pure after all."
Ian sighed helplessly and canceled the spell. The next instant, all the newly grown flesh melted away in a frenzy, leaving behind nothing but bare white bones once again.
"Love or no love... this is true love, huh."
His excitement faded, replaced by mild irritation. He regretted not asking the reckless goddess in Pompeii for some living flesh. Even a small piece would have been enough; he could have cultivated it. With a bit of magical "502 glue," he could've covered this skeleton from head to toe.
"Forget it. I'll deal with it tomorrow."
Ian set down his wand and glanced at the clock on the wall. His plan for tonight was clearly more important than the skeleton's revival experiment.
Because tonight...
...was his night of transcendence.
If the time spent crossing over to the past also counted, then he should be able to enter the Twilight Zone smoothly. Still, because he wasn't entirely certain, he decided to go to bed early.
"Before bed, I'll add some African tree snake skin to the brew. You two keep an eye on the fire for me."
Even before going to sleep, Ian hadn't forgotten about his potion. But as he walked to his cabinet, he froze.
Everything was gone! Every single ingredient he'd prepared that afternoon had disappeared!
"Who touched my potion materials!?"
Ian's voice rose sharply. He spun around and grabbed the black-robed skeleton, shaking its robe, but nothing fell out.
Next, he pried open the Dementor's mouth. But there was no trace of a potion scent inside, either.
"How strange..."
Ian frowned. He pulled out his wand, rewound time, and traced the room's recent events.
In the next moment, his expression became priceless.
There, in the magical projection, stood Snape's shadowy figure. Somehow, the man had snuck into the Room of Requirement!
With natural, unhurried precision, he swept everything into a bag. He packed away all the carefully prepared potion ingredients in one clean motion, just like Autumn cleaning up fallen leaves.
Ian stood frozen.
"What kind of role reversal is this!? So that's why Harry Potter smells so strongly of moonseed!"
He finally realized, his voice rising in disbelief.
"Damn you, Snape!"
At last, he understood exactly where his potion ingredients had gone—straight into Harry's stomach!
(End of chapter.)
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