You can read ahead up to 110 chapters on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/darkshadow6395
The Hogwarts corridors were shrouded in mystery at night.
The staircases were shifting again.
Ian stood at the end of a corridor, negotiating with the portrait of an elderly Godric Gryffindor, a scene that would remain unseen by others. After all, most people still believed that the Gryffindor portrait in the hallway couldn't speak.
"Searching for my younger portrait?"
The old portrait blinked in surprise as though he hadn't expected Ian to make such a request. Soon, however, he regained his composure and began to ponder, as if genuinely considering whether to agree.
He actually looked like he was thinking about it.
"Yes, I believe you can find him. After all, who knows you better than yourself? You must have some idea where you'd hide if you were him." Ian offered the suggestion himself as he was very invested in this.
He'd spent an entire year searching for the elusive portrait of the arrogant, narcissistic Gryffindor from his younger days who claimed to be the last of Gryffindor's masterpieces. Ian wasn't obsessed because of old grudges or annoyance at the portrait's disappearing acts.
No, the real reason was far more practical — the treasure.
The younger portrait had mentioned the Founders' Treasure and how Gryffindor had supposedly left behind his own vault. Naturally, Ian had been thinking about it ever since.
Yes, that's right.
There was nothing shameful about it, Ian did covet Gryffindor's treasure. Just think about it: the treasure vault of someone as adventure-loving as Gryffindor? It had to be overflowing with wonders.
Godric Gryffindor was a legendary figure famed for his courage and love of adventure. His travels took him all across the world, and surely every adventure yielded rare artifacts and magical relics beyond imagination.
Just imagine it!
If those treasures weren't stored in Hogwarts' main vaults but rather hidden in a secret, secluded chamber, then the riches within would surely defy comprehension.
Ian's heartbeat quickened and his pulse raced as if the treasures themselves were calling to him: rare magical artifacts and mysterious spell tomes, all likely hidden within Hogwarts' walls.
Was he greedy?
No!
He simply couldn't bear to see treasures collecting dust.
Ian had no intention of taking on the Founders' trials. He believed that once he found the younger portrait of Gryffindor, he'd easily coax the vault's location out of him.
Coercion and threats?
He wasn't the Dark Lord; he had better ways to get what he wanted.
"Well then, what do you say, Mr. Gryffindor?"
Ian asked respectfully. He held the Founders in high regard, no matter what. Even if this was just a portrait, it still carried a fragment of Gryffindor's consciousness.
"Very well, agreed. But in return, you must promise me something," the portrait said gravely. "While following them, do your best to keep them safe. Those children are brave, yes, but the dangers within the Forbidden Forest are far beyond what they can handle."
"?"
Ian froze.
"Shouldn't I just bring them straight back?" he asked, baffled. This portrait was clearly off its rocker—it knew the Forbidden Forest was dangerous yet still wanted the trio to continue their adventure.
"You cannot suppress the nature of one, no, three Gryffindor students!" the old Gryffindor suddenly exclaimed, waving his arms so animatedly that he seemed as if he might leap right out of the frame.
"...
Ian was at a loss for words. In the end, he simply nodded to humor the portrait, though he already had his own plans.
'Heh.'
'Their "nature," huh?'
When he found the three of them, he'd just give them each a good beating, drag them back, and claim they came back willingly. Surely none of them would be brave (or foolish) enough to stand up and argue, not even a Gryffindor.
Well, putting it that way—
If he went into the Forbidden Forest and gave them each a proper beating, wouldn't that technically count as them completing an adventure? The logic made perfect sense, causing a satisfied smile to spread across Ian's face.
Meanwhile—
The elderly Gryffindor portrait clearly couldn't sense what Ian was really thinking. After all, he was just a portrait of one of the Four Founders, not the real wizard himself, and lacked the magical power necessary to perceive Ian's thoughts.
Of course—
Even if Gryffindor himself were resurrected and standing right in front of Ian, it was doubtful he'd be able to break through Ian's mental defenses. Both of them, after all, were legendary-level wizards.
And when it came to mental and spiritual power, Ian's mastery was truly exceptional.
So really, who would be reading whose mind?
That was a very good question.
"You're really going to help me find the younger version of yourself, right? Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm being paranoid, it's just, you're both portraits of the same person."
Before setting off, Ian made sure to confirm it once more.
"Don't worry. I believe that for the younger version of me, this will be a rather thrilling adventure as well."
The old wizard's portrait stroked his beard, his tone full of anticipation.
Honestly, his thought process was truly indescribable. Ian was almost certain that the younger version of Gryffindor would completely disagree, he'd probably start shouting insults at his old self the moment he heard such nonsense.
"Alright then." Ian turned to leave, but suddenly stopped in his tracks.
"By the way… do you know where Gryffindor's treasure vault is?" he asked abruptly.
It occurred to him that both of these portraits were Gryffindor—so maybe he didn't need to find the younger one at all. If the older portrait could tell him the location of the vault, that was just as good.
He wasn't hung up on who gave him the answer.
See? Not the type to hold grudges.
He could always play hide-and-seek with that younger portrait later—after graduating and getting re-employed at Hogwarts, he'd have plenty of time for that.
He looked at the elderly portrait expectantly.
However—
"Gryffindor's treasure vault?"
The aged portrait looked genuinely baffled. His brow furrowed even deeper, his expression full of confusion.
"My child, I don't know what you're talking about. Gryffindor's true treasure doesn't lie in material wealth, but in the adventures he undertook and the wisdom he gained."
"That is the greatest treasure Gryffindor left behind."
Clearly, this version of Gryffindor had no clue about the treasure vault Ian was looking for.
Instead, he took the opportunity to deliver a hearty helping of inspirational nonsense,
'well, maybe not chicken soup', Ian thought dryly. Since he was a wizard, maybe "duck soup" was more appropriate.
"You're right, sure."
Ian didn't bother arguing further. He gave a noncommittal answer and let his expression show mild disappointment.
Perhaps the younger Gryffindor portrait hadn't been exaggerating after all.
He really was the most unique among Gryffindor's portraits, not just because he seemed to know hidden secrets, but because he had a spark of vitality that made him feel almost alive.
That old hallway portrait, on the other hand, was way too "AI-like"—spouting life lessons at every opportunity. If someone put him through a Turing test, Ian was pretty sure he'd fail it spectacularly.
"Perhaps you should hurry," the elderly Gryffindor added with mild concern. "Don't let the creatures of the Forbidden Forest eat them."
Yep.
Ian sighed.
It seemed even his sense of time was a bit off, too.
(To Be Continued…)