Barely three minutes, maybe three and a half, later, Rabi reappeared, beaming proudly, holding an entire basket filled with fresh pig brains.
Yes, a whole basket.
These were leftover ingredients from when the school kitchens used pork. In fact, across the entire Hogwarts castle, aside from a few Chinese students, Ian was the only one who ever ate such things. Because of that, the house-elves always saved some especially for him, magically preserved, as fresh as the moment they'd been harvested.
Along with the pig brains came various other ingredients, and Ian's personal copper hotpot cauldron. Every time he asked for it, the elves immediately assumed he was getting ready to enjoy hotpot. After all, the house-elves had long since memorized all of Ian's eating habits over the course of the school year. In fact, they probably understood his appetite better than he did himself.
That's what you call professionalism!
"Thanks."
Ian dismissed the house-elf, then looked at the basket of pig brains before him. The corners of his mouth curved upward in a satisfied smile. Humming a light tune, he began setting up a simple hotpot station inside the Room of Requirement. The fire roared beneath the pot, and the bubbling broth sent waves of mouthwatering aroma into the air.
Although he'd just eaten roasted meat earlier, anyone with experience would know, eating only meat leaves you hungry again very quickly, especially at Ian's age, when his body was still growing.
"The king's grandson isn't even a match for me!" Ian declared proudly as he dropped a fresh pig brain into the pot. At the same time, his hands weren't idle, he began performing alchemy modifications on another brain.
Yes, that was the real reason he needed this particular ingredient.
Using his refined alchemical skills, Ian wrapped mithril wires around the brain like veins and embedded several magic runes and miniature magical devices into it. This was to become the core of the cybernetic brain, a purely biological processor.
Efficient. Functional. But also consumable, it would only last about a week at most. Not because magic couldn't preserve it, but because during use, clusters of brain cells would naturally die off over time.
"Flesh is weak," as the saying goes.
That was just the way of things. Life, after all, was the Creator's forbidden domain, and so, Ian still couldn't perfectly replicate a proper biological consumption rate. Because of that, he hadn't used high-grade materials: the brain's protective casing was made of plain copper, nothing more.
"Hogwarts' own biochemical madman," Ian muttered to himself with a smirk.
His gaze was focused and serious; beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Even for someone like him, this kind of magical modification was delicate work. His hands moved rapidly between the pig brain and various magical instruments, swift, fluid, but also cautious.
Under his deft movements, the ordinary brain gradually changed. Its surface began to shimmer with a faint magical glow, looking far more refined and "high-tech" than before. Ian nodded in satisfaction at his masterpiece.
Then, he took out the Swordsmanship memory he had copied earlier from Pandero, the legendary King Arthur's own combat knowledge, and transferred it into the modified brain.
"Perfect."
Ian carefully lifted the pig brain, now containing the legendary swordsmanship memories, and walked toward the black-robed skeleton.
The skeleton tilted its head, almost as if anticipating what was about to happen.
Ian pried open its jawbone and placed the brain inside its skull cavity, since, unfortunately, the top of its skull couldn't be opened.
He had to take the "creative" route.
Luckily, the skeleton's frame had plenty of space inside. The modified brain fit snugly. After that, Ian pulled out his wand and cast a gentle Lumos Charm toward it.
In the next instant, the black-robed skeleton let out a deep, guttural roar.
Flesh began to grow.
However, this time, it didn't completely regenerate a full body. Under Ian's careful magical control, only a network of blood vessels sprouted, weaving through the skull and connecting to the brain inside.
"I… I can feel the presence of a brain…" rasped the skeleton, its voice hoarse and hollow. It probably had no idea what kind of brain was now sitting inside its head.
"Just as I thought, it works. Now I just need to engrave this part of the magic directly onto the brain," Ian murmured, knowing that ordinary spells wouldn't have any real effect on the black-robed skeleton.
So, he maintained the flow of magic, slowly engraving that Divine Power-infused spellwork onto the copper shell of the cyber brain. The magic he infused would at least last for a week.
"Just like that, yes, perfect!"
Ian withdrew the magic from his wand. The blood vessels within the black-robed skeleton's head still remained, faintly pulsing with a gentle glow of the Sun God's divine light, keeping that fragile flesh alive.
"Try it out!"
While the black-robed skeleton was still lost in the new sensations, Ian shoved his cyber longsword into its hands. The skeleton looked down at the strange little wizard, clearly confused.
"Come on, show me some swordsmanship." Ian prompted him.
The black-robed skeleton stared at the longsword in its hand. Its bony fingers trembled slightly, unused to the weapon's balance. Ian knew why, it was because the Goddess of Brutes had wielded a greatsword before.
Even though it probably felt unnatural, the skeleton began to move. At first, the motions were clumsy, but soon they smoothed out, growing fluid and controlled. Each stance, each motion perfectly embodied the essence of Pandero's swordsmanship. The blade traced a flawless arc through the air, silver light gleaming as it cut a perfect circle, Pandero's signature sword technique.
"Divine Judgment."
A rather ridiculous, overly dramatic name, honestly. But then again, that was exactly how Pandero liked to name things.
"Marvelous! My alchemical experiment has succeeded once again!" Ian beamed with pride. To gain the use of legendary swordsmanship without putting in the effort himself, he had indeed racked his brain for this solution.
And now, the result was more than satisfying.
"From now on, you'll be my personal bodyguard!" Ian declared grandly, like a boss painting big promises for his employee's future. After giving the black-robed skeleton an encouraging pat on the shoulder, he turned back toward his hotpot setup.
All that effort, both physical and mental, had left him exhausted. Naturally, he was starving.
With so many ingredients still left, Ian began to enjoy his delicious hotpot. As he ate, he decided the flavor wasn't quite strong enough, so he poured in a few bottles of potions for seasoning.
"Haaah~"
He took a bite, and immediately breathed actual fire.
Inside the Hogwarts Headmaster's Office, the warm yellow candlelight flickered gently. Dumbledore sat quietly in his high-backed chair, his long fingers brushing against his chest as though he could still feel that lingering pain. He pondered in silence for a moment, then his gaze, behind his half-moon spectacles, shifted toward a shadowed corner of the room.
The air seemed to freeze for an instant.
"Riddle."
Suddenly, he spoke. His voice was calm, but it carried a deep, unshakable weight.
And then, from the empty room, a figure began to emerge.
It wasn't a man.
It was a simple suit of armor, hollow, with no flesh or blood within.
Yet Dumbledore was not surprised. He stared quietly at the armor. The room fell into a long, heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustling sound of Fawkes preening its feathers on the perch.
(End of Chapter)
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