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Dinner passed quickly.
Although Ian arrived late, he still managed to eat comfortably. As dinner came to an end, the noisy chatter in the Great Hall gradually faded, and students from every house poured out of the doors like the ebbing tide.
Night was falling.
Soon, everyone would return to their common rooms to rest.
Ian walked slowly at the very back, lost in thought about his next plan. As he passed through the entrance hall, he saw Harry coming out of Snape's office.
The boy looked even more miserable than he had at dinner. His glasses were askew, his hair was messier than usual, and his green eyes were full of shame and frustration.
"Damn you, Snape!"
Harry cursed under his breath. He looked as if he had suffered some sort of major humiliation; he almost walked straight into a wall. Ian couldn't help but wonder what Snape had said or done to him.
Ian observed carefully with his own eyes. Harry's robes were splattered with an unknown liquid that gave off a strange odor. Thankfully, it was only moonseed. If it had been heather, Ian would have felt compelled to call for help.
"Is my good uncle researching transformation potions again?"
Ian sniffed lightly and, from the faint traces of potion lingering in the air, could tell what kind of experiment Harry Potter had been caught up in. Ian didn't go up to greet the emotionally devastated boy; he only watched as Harry stomped and muttered his way toward the Slytherin common room.
Perhaps ten minutes ago, the Boy Who Lived had experienced what it was like to be Harriet.
Yes, from the ingredients and effects left behind, Ian could tell exactly what kind of potion Snape was experimenting with. It was definitely a potion that would be a "blessing" for certain groups.
"My good uncle is terrifying!"
Ian had no idea why Snape had decided to research such a potion suddenly.
Perhaps it was at Dumbledore's request. Or maybe it was some unspeakable, twisted curiosity of his own.
Either way, poor Harry Potter was the one who would suffer. Ian could only offer two seconds of silent mourning for the Boy Who Lived.
"When it comes to innovation and invention, I'm the true GOAT!" Ian silently thought to himmself as he watched as Harry disappeared down the corridor.
Night had fallen over Hogwarts, shrouding the castle in a mysterious, tranquil atmosphere. Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, scattering dim patches of color across the stone floor.
Ian strolled around the castle like a carefree delinquent; it was his way of digesting dinner. Ordinary students would have avoided breaking curfew, though.
Sure enough, barely an hour after dinner, not a single student could be seen in the corridors. Ian wandered lazily along, his footsteps echoing crisply through the empty hallways.
The sound stood out vividly.
"Oh, Ian, you really look like a lion patrolling his territory," Said one of the portraits, watching the boy swagger down the hall with exaggerated confidence.
"Ah, you flatter me," Ian replied with a grin, waving politely at the portrait that had dared to speak such blunt truth. "I'm merely admiring our beautiful Hogwarts."
But as he turned a corner, a familiar figure suddenly came into view: Filch, the grumpy old caretaker who was always snapping at students.
At this hour, when everyone else was in bed, Filch stood alone at the end of the corridor. In the dim torchlight, he appeared to be conducting some sort of bizarre ritual.
Well, "ritual" might be giving it too much credit.
It was more like one of those strange things students joked about, saying that Filch must have gone mad. Last term, in fact, he'd spent nearly half the semester doing exactly the same thing.
"Today! Today, it'll work! Yes! I'm sure it'll work this time!"
Filch wore his ever-present brown coat and had tied his gray-white hair into a small knot at the back of his head. His deeply wrinkled face was full of grim determination, and his cloudy eyes were fixed on the iron bucket before him. He muttered nonstop under his breath.
"This time for sure! It's going to work! I can feel it. Just a little more!" His fingers trembled as he touched his forehead, and his eyes blazed with resolve.
He really did look like a lunatic.
"Not again..."
Ian sighed and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself before quietly stepping into the corridor where Filch stood. Ian had intended to slip past the caretaker, a stubborn Squib who tried to awaken his magic through self-harm.
However, Filch's actions were so absurd that Ian couldn't help but wince. The old man took several steps back, drew in a deep breath, and then charged headfirst toward the solid stone wall.
"BANG!"
Apparently, he'd given up on bashing his head against the iron bucket and had moved on to something much sturdier. The dull thud echoed through the hallway, making Ian's skull ache just from watching.
"It hurts more! Yes, this pain! It'll definitely awaken my magic power!" Filch staggered backward, his forehead flaming red; yet, his face lit up with wild joy.
Only Merlin knew what sort of "Squib enlightenment program" Filch might have attended during the holidays. His self-destructive routine made Ian wonder if he had finally gone insane.
Then again, having once experienced the beauty of magic, losing it again would be far worse than never having known it at all. Ian realized that Filch's madness was related to his own experiments from last term.
He hadn't expected the poor man to still be clinging to hope six months later. That kind of iron will was impressive, but Filch's mean-spirited personality kept Ian from wanting to offer his help.
"Still… this is sort of my fault."
Seeing that Filch was preparing to hit the wall again, Ian sighed and pulled out his wand. With a flick of his wand, he cast a Memory Charm, erasing every memory related to Filch suddenly gaining magic.
In an instant, Filch's eyes went blank.
"Huh? Why am I here?" he mumbled, rubbing his sore forehead. Convinced that he had just tripped and fallen, Filch grumbled something about "those blasted little devils leaving things everywhere" and shuffled back toward his quarters.
Ian looked at his wand, feeling no guilt about casting a spell on the man.
"I knew it. There's definitely something a little off with me, too," He muttered, half amused and half thoughtful. As he walked back toward the Ravenclaw common room, he found himself wondering what sort of mythic framework could enhance a Memory Charm's effects.
Aurora's substitute class earlier that day had rekindled his interest in teaching his own sessions.
It was time to prove who was the better instructor among friends.
At the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, the bronze eagle knocker dozed lightly. Ian cleared his throat, and the eagle instantly came to life. In its solemn voice, it asked:
"What becomes greater the more you share it?"
It was a routine riddle; nothing meant to stump him.
However, Ian answered, "I love you."
Ian answered simply and directly. It sounded completely off-topic, but the door swung open regardless. The eagle knocker had long since learned to stop arguing with Ian.
The common room beyond was brightly lit and far livelier than usual for this hour. Not only were Ravenclaws present, but several students from other houses were there too.
They sat in small groups on the blue-and-bronze sofas or gathered near the fireplace. They talked quietly among themselves while waiting for Ian's little private class to begin.
When Ian walked in, every pair of eyes in the room turned toward him.
A redheaded Hufflepuff girl suddenly jumped up from her seat and shouted excitedly.
"He's here! The little professor is here!"
Her voice was filled with enthusiasm. Ian remembered this particular fangirl; her name was Emily.
"Good evening, my knowledge-hungry classmates. It's time for tonight's extra lesson," Ian said with a warm smile as he walked to the center of the common room and casually tossed his cloak over the back of a sofa.
A moment later, a quick-thinking student hurried forward to move his special chair into place.
Ian noticed a few students with bruises and scratches on their faces sitting in the corner, clearly the result of a "friendly sparring session." Shaking his head, Ian pulled a small bottle of purple ointment from his pocket and tossed it to them.
"Rub that on before bed. The bruises will be gone by tomorrow."
Ian rather enjoyed moments like this; granting small favors always made him feel superior. With that, he sat down in his special seat.
The chair began to float a few feet off the ground so that he could be seen clearly by all.
"Tonight," Ian announced, "we'll be learning a very practical spell: the Silencing Charm."
The young witches and wizards surrounding his floating chair instantly perked up, and the room filled with excited whispers. Ian waited a few seconds, then raised his hand for silence.
"This spell is useful," he continued, "because it's one of the best ways to deal with other wizards. If your opponent can't speak, no matter how powerful they are, they can't cast spells."
With that, Ian began the evening's lesson.
After demonstrating the charm and guiding his classmates through the basics, a few students began asking questions.
(To Be Contnued…)