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It seemed even his sense of time was a bit off, too.
"Alright, alright… they're not exactly speed demons like me. There's no way they could reach the Forbidden Forest in just a few minutes… even if they were flying on broomsticks, it's impossible to go that fast."
"Our House's brooms are antiques anyway. And honestly, I can't imagine Ron, Hermione, or Neville handling them properly. Those things aren't something you master after just two or three lessons."
Ian muttered back under his breath, then gave the elderly Gryffindor portrait an OK gesture. In the next moment, his figure dissolved into a swirl of shimmering white mist.
This was clearly Ian's self-developed flight magic, inspired by both the Dark Lord's methods and his own uncle's. It was extremely practical, but unlike their sinister aesthetic, Ian's magic glow was a soft, silvery white, free of any dark undertones.
"Whoooosh~"
Ian shot out of the corridor window like dawn mist swept away by a gale. The cold night air lashed against him, laced with fine drizzle that soaked the castle walls. Moonlight broke through the rain, coating the scene in a faint silver halo.
"Huh?"
Ian had barely flown out of the castle when confusion hit him. He'd assumed the three would still be somewhere near the small bridge at best, but to his shock, he couldn't see them. He couldn't sense them either.
"Bloody hell!" A low curse escaped from within the drifting mist.
Outside the castle grounds, there was no trace of the three little lion cubs. Not even a single footprint along the path leading to the Forbidden Forest. It was as if those three first years had simply vanished into thin air.
Then—
The white mist swirled midair, reforming into Ian's face, his expression a mix of confusion and suspicion.
"Don't tell me those three somehow found a secret passage on their first week here?" Ian muttered, surprised. "Guess Gryffindors really do have a talent for this sort of thing…"
Hovering midair, he thought for a moment. Then, with a ripple of mist, he shot toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest like an arrow loosed from a bow.
The massive oaks cast jagged shadows beneath the moonlight, and the entrance to the Forest reeked of damp earth and rotting leaves. Ian landed silently at the edge, calculating the trio's possible route and travel time, deciding to lie in wait.
He first pulled out his latest masterpiece—a magical Gatling gun.
"No… that's a bit too much. It's not the Middle Ages anymore."
After a moment's thought, he decided it was overkill, stuffed it back into his enchanted pouch, and instead drew a forty-meter-long greatsword that looked terrifying enough to make any Gryffindor wet themselves.
"I should add some special effects."
He waved his wand, and the enormous sword began to glow with those flashy, low-budget effects you'd see in a "Level 1 to 999" mobile game, cheap, gaudy, and eye-searingly bright. Ian nodded, satisfied. It was more than enough to scare the trio senseless.
However—
As time ticked by, Ian finished one bag of chips… then a second… then a third. Still no sign of the three juniors.
The only sounds were the howling wind and the occasional low growl from some unseen forest creature.
Nothing else.
"Something's off. At a normal first-year's pace, they should've reached this point ages ago. Don't tell me they didn't come this way?"
Ian's frown deepened. Even a crippled student would've made it by now.
For the third time, mist rose around him, and he vanished once again—this time heading straight for Hagrid's hut.
Maybe, he thought, the three of them had gone to find that big friend of theirs for help.
However—
When Ian arrived, there was still no trace of them.
Hagrid's hut sat peacefully in the moonlight, warm yellow light leaking from between the shutters. Inside, thunderous snores echoed through the room. The half-giant lay sprawled across his battered armchair, sleeping soundly… completely oblivious to the night's strange events.
The fire in the fireplace crackled and burned softly.
Hagrid's massive but cowardly dog lay curled up at his feet. Of course, being a creature with such sharp instincts, it immediately sensed Ian's presence the moment he landed outside the hut.
It wasn't because of anything special Ian did.
Fang, who had been tucked quietly in a corner, suddenly lifted his head and sniffed the air hard. His entire body stiffened, fur standing on end. A faint whimper escaped his throat as his eyes filled with pure fear.
He didn't bark.
He didn't even dare breathe loudly.
It wasn't Ian's aura that frightened him, after all, it wasn't particularly menacing but rather the scent clinging to him. During his time in the Twilight Zone, Ian had once petted a dragon, and not just any dragon, an ancient, pure-blooded dragon.
The scent of that creature still lingered faintly on him.
Modern dragons already sat at the top of the food chain, but those ancient ones? They were rulers among rulers, apex predators of a bygone era. Even a dog that had never seen such a being would instinctively tremble in its presence.
It was like how most people have never been bitten by a tiger, yet still shudder instinctively when they hear a tiger's roar in a zoo, an instinct etched into the very soul of all living things.
"Could it be… they went straight into the Forbidden Forest?" Ian murmured to himself. "I do know a few secret passages that lead directly into it but none of them should open out onto the grasslands outside the school…"
He frowned. "Don't tell me there's a secret passage that even I don't know about?"
Unconvinced, he pulled out the Marauder's Map. Under the silvery moonlight, the parchment shimmered faintly gold.
Then—
As Ian activated it, black ink lines spread across the surface like a spiderweb, sketching out the detailed layout of Hogwarts. His finger glided over one section after another, tracing the various secret passages and their destinations.
And sure enough—
He found one he'd never noticed before.
A hidden passage located right beneath the Quidditch Pitch, one that led directly out of the castle grounds and into the Forbidden Forest.
No wonder he hadn't paid attention to it before. Aside from watching the first Quidditch match of the year, Ian had little interest in the sport and rarely went anywhere near the pitch. Naturally, he hadn't bothered exploring that area.
When it came to secret passages inside Hogwarts, Ian could navigate them blindfolded. But this one, tucked away beneath the field, had slipped past even his notice.
"How in Merlin's name did those three manage to find that one?" he muttered incredulously. "Even without Harry Potter, the Quidditch player, they're still into the sport?"
Ian had never quite understood why most wizards were so obsessed with Quidditch. Still, he respected other people's interests. What baffled him was how the three first-years had not only discovered the passage but also figured out where it led.
Was it Ron's idea? Hermione's? Or maybe Neville's?
Maybe… students from Gryffindor House were simply born with a genetic urge for reckless exploration.
With that thought, Ian once again took to the skies, his form dissolving into mist as he sped toward the Forbidden Forest.
What he didn't know, however, was that what awaited him there would be far more than just three little rule-breaking wizards.
(End of Chapter)