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Ian had encountered talking tomes in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. His curiosity had led him to study them, which was undoubtedly one of the key reasons for the absurd scene unfolding before him.
“I become more adept at alchemy when I’m under the influence!?” Ian struggled to piece together the events of the previous night, but all he could recall was dancing and dueling with ghosts at their banquet.
Children really shouldn’t indulge in firewhisky.
He had no idea when he had returned to the Room of Requirement or how he had spent the entire night tinkering with the pile of books before him. Even the Dementor had been dressed up and adorned with festive decorations.
The sensation of a hangover was most unpleasant.
Especially for Ian, whose body had not yet fully matured.
He shook his throbbing head, and scattered fragments of memory seemed to rattle loose, but he only remembered sorting the bones of the Riddle family.
“One of you must be old Tom.” Ian gazed at the collection of Muggle skeletons that had been meticulously arranged. They were stacked in a corner, having escaped disaster due to their lack of bloodline magic. As for those bones imbued with magical lineage, they had all transformed into the floating skeletal tomes hovering in the air.
None had been spared.
“My body feels like it’s about to burst!”
“Can’t you make me a bit larger?”
“You’ve even distorted the face on my cover; quickly take my face down and fix it!”
“Oh, heavens, what a dull creator! He made us just to converse with silly snakes. I truly despise the content and mission I carry!”
…
A chorus of floating skeletal tomes chattered incessantly.
Their covers were crafted from finely selected human bones, and these once-scattered remains had been rearranged to form lifelike yet distinct skeletal visages.
There were both male and female.
They appeared sinister yet possessed an artistic flair. Ian felt that his creative impulses after a night of revelry were quite abundant. He reached out and seized one of the ‘Books of Parselmouth’, flipping it open.
Sure enough.
Just as when he had been interrupted by the ghosts the day before, the book contained no text, only a series of ancient runes outlined in lines that flickered in and out of visibility.
“Sssss~”
The opened ‘Book of Parselmouth’ ceased its complaints, and the skeletal face on the cover began to whisper in a pedagogical tone. Ian felt as if he could hear the hissing of snakes in his ears.
Accompanied by translation.
However, before the whispered translation could commence, Ian realized he had already anticipated the meaning of Parseltongue a step ahead. Although there were still some inaccuracies, overall, he was about 80-90% correct.
At that moment, Ian noticed that his frenzied alchemical crafting from the night before had brought his alchemical skills to the brink of a breakthrough. It seemed that during the process of creating the ‘Book of Parselmouth’, he had gained a preliminary understanding of Parseltongue.
He hadn’t acquired a specific skill, but his existing abilities had made significant strides.
[Language Mastery (Level 7): 5/6400]
He had advanced from level 6 to level 7, reaching a capability on par with ‘The Path of Flames’. If he fully mastered Parseltongue, he should expect a considerable enhancement.
“Sssss~”
Ian attempted to interact with the ‘Book of Parselmouth’ using Parseltongue.
“Sssssssss~”
The skeletal face on the cover of the ‘Book of Parselmouth’ immediately responded. This was why the ‘Books of Parselmouth’ seemed to have high “intelligence” and could even make sarcastic remarks.
Ian’s creative philosophy was to provide learners with a good language communication environment.
He believed that the rigid learning and memorization of words and language structures would only leave learners able to understand Parseltongue but unable to communicate effectively. Having communication from the start of learning was the best way to learn and undoubtedly the fastest way to learn a language.
“You are all amazing!” Ian gave the ‘Book of Parselmouth’ a perfect score for its user experience. He immediately took out his carving knife and wrote a sentence in the ‘Book of Parselmouth’.
[They will speak to you; this is the masterpiece of Ian Prince.]
Following the ‘Bone and Ash Box or Housewitch’s Handy Box’, Ian created another original work. Although the raw materials for the work were somewhat grim, the ‘Book of Parselmouth’ was clearly more meaningful than the ‘Housewitch’s Handy Box’.
If the Gaunt houses had no objections in the underworld, it might truly be called an outstanding work.
After all.
Aside from bloodline inheritance, even Dumbledore found it difficult to master Parseltongue through study. Dumbledore, aside from being a magical genius, was also a linguistic genius.
Even such a master could only memorize a few syllables through rote learning, making it even less likely for other mediocre wizards to master Parseltongue.
“Unfortunately, I can’t sell you in school, at least not until I catch the precious basilisk… The little wizards in school probably wouldn’t pay too high a price anyway.” Ian was busy “catching” the ‘Books of Parselmouth’ that were fleeing in the air, stuffing dozens of them into his money pouch.
After several expansions, Ian’s money pouch had now grown to the size of a football field, and most of his belongings were now in a portable state.
Of course.
A football field-sized space was not the limit of the expansion charm; it was merely the current limit of Ian’s control over the charm. In the future, he would definitely continue to expand the space in his pouch.
Whether he would use it or not was secondary.
What Ian wanted was simply his own Doraemon’s fourth-dimensional pocket.
“You all get in here too.”
After a moment’s thought, Ian ultimately decided not to destroy the pile of Muggle skeletons. Compared to incinerating them all with Fiendfyre, he preferred to boil old Tom’s bones into potion.
In potions, human bone powder was also a material, and it was something very difficult to obtain through regular means. Voldemort’s father’s bones were hidden among a group of legitimate Muggle skeletons.
Ian felt that it would be a waste to destroy them all to eliminate future troubles—he had dug up the entire village’s graves because he couldn’t find which one was old Tom in a hurry.
“Future troubles or not, it’s a small matter. If I need to save Horcrux Harry Potter, I must use old Tom’s bones. Snape will definitely be willing to acknowledge that I am his most talented student for the sake of the Boy Who Lived and write a guarantee that I must give Ravenclaw at least a hundred points this semester.”
In the end, Ian also wanted to stuff the bound Dementor into his money pouch, but he still hadn’t found a way to improve the pouch’s tightness. The Dementor, comparable in size to Hagrid, got its head stuck at the entrance of the pouch. Helpless, Ian had to pull the Dementor out again.
“Why can’t you have a balloon head!” Ian locked the Dementor back in its cage, where it curled up in the corner, looking as if it were sobbing.
This was a sight that other wizards had never witnessed before. After tidying up the somewhat chaotic Room of Requirement, Ian noticed it was already two or three o’clock in the afternoon.
Fortunately, today was Halloween, and Hogwarts would be closed for the entire day; otherwise, he would have undoubtedly achieved the remarkable feat of skipping class all day.
“Time to eat! I want to go eat!” Just as Ian was about to leave, the portrait in the Room of Requirement that he often frequented suddenly spoke up.
“If Salazar were still alive, he would definitely have a word with you.”
They had never conversed before; this was the first time, startling Ian, who quickly turned to look. It was a striking young man with red hair he had never seen before. This figure had never appeared in any of Hogwarts’ portraits, nor had it been in this classroom before.
Ian had often bothered the portraits in the castle to understand the principles of “magical intelligence.”
“Are you an ancestor of the Weasley family? To be honest, I initially just wanted to study the bloodline origins of Parseltongue through those bones, but I accidentally turned them all into skeleton books last night.”
Ian stared at the young man’s somewhat tousled red hair. The portraits hanging in this classroom were all of Hogwarts’ outstanding graduates, nearly all masters in the fields of potions and alchemy.
“I have no descendants; descendants only influence my sword-drawing speed. Can the Weasley family boast someone as handsome as me?” The portrait of the red-haired young man immediately countered.
“Oh, you are a Gryffindor.” Ian glanced at the portrait of what should have been a picnic witch, with a backdrop of mountains and flowing water, wondering where the picnic witch had been sent off to.
“Quick on the uptake, you cheeky little Ravenclaw.” The portrait of the red-haired young man chuckled, not denying it, as he plucked an apple from a nearby fruit tree.
“You should address me with respect.”
The Gryffindor portrait found that he couldn’t bite into the apple.
“You clearly look only a few years older than me; you haven’t even become a founder yet. The portrait of Gryffindor hanging by the stairs is the ancestor of the founder.” Ian felt a bit indignant at being called a cheeky little brat and blinked earnestly, saying something that left the Gryffindor portrait somewhat speechless.
However.
The Gryffindor portrait did not seem angry.
“I certainly won’t deny that, but I am the only portrait that embodies the essence of the original. Regardless of when the portrait that records me was created, as long as I appear, I can earn you the recognition of the young witches and wizards of Gryffindor House.” The smiling red-haired young man clearly had a good grasp of Ian’s personality.
“Respect to you, great ancestor of the founders.” Ian, seemingly well-versed in the art of flattery, bowed humbly to the portrait above.
The spirit of craftsmanship was revived!
“What a snobbish little brat, just like Salazar. It’s a pity that if you hadn’t pilfered the bones of his descendants, you might have gained his recognition.”
The Gryffindor’s words sparked a light in Ian’s mind.
“Are there portraits of Slytherin in the school? If I gather the recognition of the four founders’ portraits, will I gain some benefits?” Ian’s thoughts raced quickly in this direction.
“There should be a portrait of him in his Chamber; he left behind a hidden laboratory.” The Gryffindor portrait hung the apple back on the fruit tree. “You might also gain some benefits from Ravenclaw’s portrait; she left a secret treasure for her unfulfilled apprentice.”
This statement carried a double meaning.
Ravenclaw had indeed left some things for future generations, but the other founders had not considered such matters. After hanging the apple, the Gryffindor portrait continued,
“Of course, Salazar’s recognition might help you find that deed you desire… if you hadn’t dug up the bones of his descendants to make those books.”
He even knew that Ian was eyeing Hogwarts’ deed.
“Do you often spy on the young witches and wizards?” Ian had never seen the Gryffindor portrait before, yet it seemed to have a thorough understanding of him.
“The portraits are part of Hogwarts; most things witnessed by the castle are known to the portraits.” The Gryffindor portrait brushed off some leaves from his attire.
“Of course, as portraits of the founders, we are certainly more special than others. Each of us has our own secret little room within Hogwarts. Except for Helga’s room, which is not specifically concealed, the other founders’ secret rooms are hidden in places where others cannot find them.” The Gryffindor’s explanation likely clarified why Ian’s Marauder’s Map could only locate the Room of Requirement.
Because this room had not hidden its existence within Hogwarts’ “system.”
“So you also have a secret little room.”
Ian felt a stir in his heart.
He knew the entrance to Slytherin’s Chamber; perhaps after mastering Parseltongue, he could explore it. The secret rooms of the other two founders also piqued his curiosity.
“You can’t see me in the portraits around the castle because I’ve been in my little room. In fact, if I hadn’t discovered your actions were truly outrageous, I wouldn’t have chosen to come out and communicate with you.” The Gryffindor portrait raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of warning.
“Salazar is a very vengeful person; his portrait is certainly the same. If you suddenly find his Chamber, be careful; it might be his portrait that intentionally led you there.”
The Gryffindor’s words made Ian frown slightly.
“I will be careful.”
Ian sighed helplessly. If it weren’t for last night’s indulgence, he would have wanted to create a talking skeleton, which might have been more respectful than turning the Gaunthouses into books.
“Have you never encountered the portrait of Slytherin’s ancestor in the school?”
He had never seen a portrait in the Chamber, but it was hard to say; Hogwarts indeed had many secrets he had not learned about in the original text.
“Yes, but I suspect he must have created and left behind his own portrait.” The Gryffindor portrait replied with certainty, then after a moment of contemplation, he continued, “Although we had some disagreements back in the day, this school is ultimately the fruit of our collective efforts.”
“He merely left; it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about this place.” This viewpoint was also one Ian agreed with. The four founders undoubtedly had a special bond and affection for Hogwarts.
After nodding thoughtfully, Ian suddenly asked curiously, “Why haven’t I seen Lady Helga?”
In response to this question, the Gryffindor portrait merely sighed.
“There is a portrait of her in Hufflepuff’s common room, but it doesn’t carry much of her essence. Perhaps this is due to her sudden passing.”
The expression of the Gryffindor portrait was somewhat melancholic. Although he was merely a character in a painting, his feelings for the other founders were clearly no different from those of Gryffindor himself.
“Mm?”
Ian was somewhat familiar with the concept of a portrait’s essence.
He had indeed studied the nature of portraits; a portrait with “intelligence” does not necessarily require the subject’s death. The ability of these portraits to move and think does not depend on the artist. Yes, the level of intelligence in portraits is entirely determined by the “spiritual essence” left behind by the wizard.
Wizards leave their “spiritual essence” in places they frequent during their lifetime; the more powerful the wizard, the stronger their “spiritual essence.” The artist’s talent influences the level of utilization of this “spiritual essence.” A skilled artist might even imbue some of their own characteristics into the portrait.
This sometimes results in a powerful and intelligent wizard having a more capable portrait. Of course, this situation also influences how accurately the portrait represents the original wizard. From this perspective, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that this young Gryffindor portrait resembles the original more closely.
“Did the Hufflepuff founder die suddenly?”
Ian had heard this claim more than once. Dumbledore had mentioned the three founders’ transactions and noted that Hufflepuff’s ending was not a happy one when he spoke of the founder.
“This kind of tragedy is not something for young witches and wizards to gossip about.” The Gryffindor portrait did not answer Ian’s question; he merely sighed heavily, his tone filled with sadness.
“Can you tell me about the transaction witnessed by Hufflepuff?” Ian chose to take a step back, feeling that he had stumbled upon a significant secret from ancient times.
“I know that the transaction you mentioned exists, but I do not know the actual content of the item. After all, I am just a portrait, and the original Gryffindor did not impart this memory to me.” The Gryffindor portrait shrugged, hesitating for a moment before adding,
“He must have valued that matter greatly, not wanting anyone to learn about it from me. Portraits find it difficult to keep secrets, but he even entrusted me with memories of who he saw bathing.”
The Gryffindor portrait lowered his voice, speaking with a hint of pride.
Ian’s eyes widened.
“Alright, alright! If you don’t go to Gryffindor House and announce that I am your recognized heir, I will immediately tell everyone that you spied on Ravenclaw bathing!”
He felt he had caught the Gryffindor portrait off guard.
“??????”
The young Gryffindor portrait looked bewildered. “Who told you I would spy on Ravenclaw bathing? She is a married woman! And that was something I did when I was very young.”
The young Gryffindor in the portrait clearly had no idea how mischievous little wizards could be.
“You spied on others bathing since you were young, and then you say that women influence your sword-drawing speed? Tsk tsk, I didn’t expect the ancestor of Gryffindor to be such a shameless wizard!”
“Gryffindor House has the highest birth rate among Hogwarts houses for a reason!” Ian’s expression of sudden realization caused the Gryffindor portrait to lose its composure.
“What are you looking at those statistics for!? Are you that bored!?” The young Gryffindor pointed a trembling finger at the little wizards outside the frame.
“Sometimes, I do get a bit bored.”
Ian nodded honestly.
“…”
The Gryffindor portrait was left speechless.
After a long while.
He sighed heavily, “If you can find my treasure trove by your own ability and come before me, I will publicly acknowledge you as Gryffindor’s recognized descendant.”
“This is a trial, only given to a select few…” The Gryffindor portrait’s expression was somewhat helpless. “I was supposed to come to you in your third year.”
Not to mention.
Just the word “treasure trove” made Ian’s eyes light up.
“As long as I can find that by my own means, does it matter what method I use?” Ian knew that the adventurous Gryffindor must have left behind more than just a sword that grows stronger with each battle.
“Yes, I must remind you that you are the seventh wizard to reach the threshold and the only non-Gryffindor student. The six challengers before you have all failed.”
“There are three trials in the place where I am located. Simply mastering powerful magic is not enough; on the path of the trials, you will also need extraordinary swordsmanship. I believe I have left some books on swordsmanship in the Hogwarts library, but over the years, few wizards have chosen to study them.”
“For today’s young wizards, they would rather create a magical firearm for themselves than learn swordsmanship… I admit that this is a better form of close defense, but it clearly won’t work in the trials I left behind. If you really have some free time, you might as well use it to practice swordsmanship.”
The Gryffindor portrait opened its mouth to remind him. “Of course, if you feel you have no talent for swordsmanship, you can also find a partner who excels in it.”
“The friendship of partners is also a form of strength for you, but correspondingly, you will need to share some of your gains.” The Gryffindor’s voice was very loud and powerful. “You have enough time to weigh whether to take on the challenge alone or team up with your partner. After all, finding the place where I am located will also require considerable effort.”
He spoke with confidence. “In fact, the little wizard who found my location the fastest spent two and a half years doing so. If the challengers do not complete the trials before graduation, it will be counted as a failure.”
This was undoubtedly a level of difficulty that was hard to believe.
It could take two years just to find the place.
How big could Hogwarts be?
“Are my predecessors as challengers really that incompetent?” Ian exclaimed in surprise as he ran toward the pile of materials he had used to create the ‘Book of Parselmouth’ last night.
There were still some materials left.
He decided to recycle them.
“The last challenger was named Albus Dumbledore; he didn’t even make it to the third trial.” The Gryffindor portrait smiled and reminded him.
To be fair.
It was clearly very correct that his original self did not record that secret transaction on him. After all, with his big mouth, he probably couldn’t keep any secrets.
“Our headmaster? He didn’t tell me that Hogwarts had such trials!” Ian gasped. It seemed that the trials of Gryffindor were indeed somewhat terrifying.
After all, Dumbledore was the most talented wizard of modern times, without exception.
“That’s because those who fail the trials do not remember that they ever participated in them… Little wizards cannot resist that kind of magic. Dumbledore was far less powerful during his student years than he is now.” The Gryffindor portrait revealed a rule from the ancient founders’ trials to Ian.
“Do the other founders have similar trials?” Ian retrieved some materials from the leftovers of last night and pulled out a bone from Tom’s distant relatives to tinker with.
“I don’t know.”
The Gryffindor’s response was quite straightforward. “I am just a portrait; I am not Hogwarts itself. However, I think the other three founders probably aren’t as enthusiastic about it as I am.”
“If you have time to dig up my grave, you might see my quirky legacy.” He was indeed bold, knowing that Ian liked to dig up graves and even seemed to look forward to giving such advice.
“Where is your grave?”
Ian’s curiosity was piqued.
“That’s something you’ll have to find out for yourself. Some say I still live in the Black Lake; that’s clearly not something a mere portrait should know. I only remember that I was obsessed with giving tomb raiders an interesting surprise.” The Gryffindor portrait grinned mischievously, continuing to encourage Ian to search for his grave.
However.
“I think I should first find the treasure trove you mentioned.” Ian began to stir the contents in a large bowl, clearly more attracted to the treasures in the treasure trove than to the bones of Gryffindor.
These were all figures from a thousand years ago.
Who knows if there are any bones left for him to study?
“What are you doing?”
The Gryffindor portrait curiously leaned closer to the frame.
“You said I could use any method to find where your treasure is, right?”
Ian removed the toad nerve that had jumped onto his face. After hesitating for a moment, he ran toward the door. “Wait for me, oh, I’ll show you my big treasure in a moment.”
As he spoke, under the increasingly curious gaze of Gryffindor, Ian left the Room of Requirement through the door and quickly returned with a small bowl.
“You are indeed still here.”
He was slightly out of breath.
“Of course I’m here. Don’t be fooled by the fact that I’m just a portrait; my curiosity is as strong as my real self.” The Gryffindor portrait’s gaze fell on the bowl in Ian’s hand.
“Yes, yes, I know. I have a friend who is quite similar to you in that regard.” Ian sighed in relief as he poured the contents of the bowl into the one he had just vigorously stirred.
He carefully began to mix again.
“You want to refine a potion to find my location?” The Gryffindor portrait, just as Ian had expected, couldn’t contain its curiosity and asked eagerly.
“And what about the big treasure you said you would show me?”
In some aspects, he and Pandora shared similar traits; if their curiosity wasn’t satisfied, they would feel uncomfortable. This was likely a nature shared by every adventurer.
“I not only brew potions; my alchemy skills are quite impressive as well. I’ve also researched your kind of portraits, so…” Ian had the Room of Requirement conjure a ladder.
He leaned the ladder against the wall and climbed up to the portrait high above.
“I also know some techniques of painters, not that I’m particularly outstanding, but it should be enough.” Looking at the ever-curious Gryffindor portrait, Ian beamed with a bright smile and began to paint with a brush made from bone. His drawing skills made it difficult for Gryffindor to discern what he was creating.
Thus.
Gryffindor leaned in closer to where Ian was painting.
“Are you drawing an animal?”
He tried to make out the new shapes appearing in the portrait.
“I’m drawing a dog.”
Ian nodded.
In fact, his drawing skills had improved significantly, and the final product was somewhat recognizable, though the appearance of the hellhound looked rather ugly.
This actually fits quite well with what Ian wanted to depict.
“You want it to smell my scent and then use the connection between portraits to find my location? That is indeed a very clever method.”
Gryffindor suddenly understood.
He chuckled and shook his head, his tone light. “But it won’t work. Even if you give it a real dog’s nose, it won’t be able to sniff out what I smell like. I am the portrait of Gryffindor; I have long anticipated that someone might try to take such shortcuts.”
“I won’t leave any traces behind, and even the master of paintings wouldn’t be able to identify the materials used to depict me.” The young Gryffindor portrait confidently stated.
He reached out to touch the hellhound that Ian had painted.
“Growl~”
The hellhound’s temperament was clearly poor, and it immediately tried to bite Gryffindor’s hand. Fortunately, Gryffindor reacted quickly; otherwise, he might have ended up as a portrait missing a hand.
“You misunderstood; I’m not painting a dog with a keen sense of smell, but a rabid dog… It just needs to chase you and follow you back to your hiding place.”
Ian finished painting the hellhound’s four legs and suddenly borrowed a bit of paint from Gryffindor to dot the eyes of the hellhound.
“Others won’t be able to attract its attention; my big treasure hellhound will only follow you. You must be careful, oh, it really bites hard.”
Ian’s gentle reminder caused Gryffindor’s expression to change dramatically as he turned to flee.
The hellhound, with its serrated fangs, immediately followed closely behind.
The two of them quickly crossed over several paintings and disappeared from the Room of Requirement’s classroom. Clearly, Godric Gryffindor from many years ago had not applied such protections to this portrait.
“Tsk tsk, Gryffindor really doesn’t have a deep understanding of portrait enchantments.”
“I hope to scare our founder’s portrait, making him run back to his safe house chased by my little dog… Ah, I’m now both hungry and thirsty; I should go get something to eat.”
Ian took one last look at the now invisible portrait and quickly climbed down the ladder, leaving the Room of Requirement.
As soon as he stepped out the door, he couldn’t help but wrap his robe around himself.
November had arrived at Hogwarts, and the temperature had dropped below ten degrees Celsius. Even with bonfires burning everywhere, Hogwarts carried the bone-chilling cold of winter.
Of course.
Such temperatures did not deter students from wanting to go out and have fun during the holiday. The castle’s corridors were quite empty, with only a few pairs of couples occasionally cuddling in the corners.
Others had either gone to Hogsmeade for gatherings or were outside on the lawn playing around, while the studious Ravenclaw students rarely stayed in the castle during the festivities. Ian also did not plan to go to the library today; he just wanted to grab something to eat before returning to the Room of Requirement to study Parseltongue.
“Salutations, young Ian.”
Along the way, Ian encountered some ghosts who had attended the banquet last night, but their attitudes seemed a bit strange. Even the usually ill-tempered Bloody Baron was bowing to him.
“You are even more remarkable than Dumbledore.”
This proud ghost from Slytherin House expressed astonishment.
“Did my skeleton band entertain everyone?”
Ian noticed that every ghost was bowing to him, and he could only guess that he had indeed made quite an impression last night. However, the Bloody Baron’s response surprised him.
“All of us ghosts are very grateful to you, not just for the band you brought.” The Bloody Baron looked deeply at Ian before drifting into the nearby wall.
“What happened last night?”
Ian racked his brain but couldn’t recall what had transpired. He found Helena Ravenclaw, who was still standing in front of her mother’s portrait.
Today’s Helena Ravenclaw seemed different from usual; although she was still staring at Rowena Ravenclaw’s portrait, her expression clearly held a hint of indescribable emotion.
Like the other ghosts, Helena Ravenclaw also slightly bowed to Ian before answering his question, “Young Ian, you created a miracle that should have been impossible last night.”
Her words were filled with complexity.
She looked at Ian with a strange gaze.
“Did I bring Dementors to the banquet?”
Ian’s hangover memories began to piece together slowly. He remembered having a great time with the ghosts and even catching a few Thestrals to take to the underground classroom. Thestrals were a surprising magical creature that could only be seen by those who had witnessed death.
Because of this…
Thestrals were often considered an ominous symbol, said to bring various terrible disasters to those who saw them. However, Hogwarts had quite a few of them used for pulling carriages.
“What! You even raised Dementors!?”
Helena Ravenclaw trembled in shock, which indicated that Ian had not brought Dementors to the banquet.
“Shh~ Keep it down!”
Ian jumped up but couldn’t cover Helena Ravenclaw’s mouth, not because he was too short or lacked jumping ability, but because Helena had dodged just in time.
“I truly don’t know what I did. The way the ghosts look at me is like… like they’re looking at the Boy Who Lived.”
Ian wanted to find a less arrogant description but couldn’t. He even felt that the way the ghosts looked at him was more intense and fervent than how many wizards looked at Harry Potter.
“Oh, yes, of course, that’s the case. Your description is quite accurate, as even now I can hardly believe it.” Helena Ravenclaw glanced deeply at Ian.
“The miracle you created is even more incredible than that little boy’s. Last night, you cast a special magic.”
The ghost Helena Ravenclaw’s soft voice echoed in the corridor, unraveling Ian’s inner confusion. “Even if it was just for a brief night, this magic granted the ghosts a sense of taste.”
Even after hearing this from others, Ian still couldn’t recall—he felt he must stay away from alcohol in the future, even after reaching adulthood.
“How come I didn’t know I could do such magic?”
Ian looked at his personal panel, which recorded no magic with similar effects.
He could only think in the direction of transfiguration.
“Perhaps it wasn’t magic; who knows? You did something remarkable anyway.” Helena Ravenclaw floated back to her mother’s portrait.
Before Ian could ask, her anxious voice continued, “I might indeed come to find you tomorrow night. My mother just spoke to me; this is the first time her portrait has spoken. I always thought she had never left her essence behind.”
“Perhaps all these years, she simply didn’t want to communicate with me.”
Helena Ravenclaw appeared somewhat hesitant, but seeing the promise to Lady Ravenclaw was within reach, Ian immediately shook off his fruitless thoughts and became energized.
“Of course not! She loves you very much and has probably been waiting for you.” He encouraged her once more, and this time, Helena Ravenclaw did not refute him as she had before.
“I still don’t know how to face her, but if I truly have another chance, I think I should muster some courage that I rarely had even in my lifetime.”
“I have lost my courage for too long; after all, the last time I gathered the courage to do something, it led to a tragedy in my life.” Helena Ravenclaw began to sob again.
“Tragedy won’t follow you forever, just as regrets shouldn’t always accompany your mother.” Ian wanted to pat Helena Ravenclaw on the shoulder.
However, he realized that his raised hand would likely only reach her waist or hips. After a moment’s thought, he withdrew his hand, fearing that it might cause Helena to change her mind.
“Actually, for a handsome little wizard like you, I should have remained cautious, but my mother told me to trust you, and this time I chose to believe her.” Helena Ravenclaw turned to look at Ian.
Her tone was a light sigh.
“Of course, I am also believing in the miracle of last night.” While other ghosts might think Ian had cast some special magic, only Helena, who had been caring for this little wizard, understood best.
There were no obscure spells, nor was it ancient or modern magic. It was simply a little wizard mumbling that he believed everyone should have the right to enjoy delicious food on Halloween. Yes, just that simple thought.
Thus, after what seemed like a casual complaint, the impossible miracle occurred.
It was like a story that could only appear in a fairy tale.
Absurd.
Bizarre.
Filled with thought-provoking meaning…
(End of Chapter)
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