Snape's expression remained unreadable but he did not intervene.
At that moment.
Flitwick, having finished examining the body parts, stood up. He first gave Ian a reassuring nod, then turned to the gathered professors and spoke softly.
"This was done using the original form of Severus's Sectumsempra curse."
His words left the house Prefects bewildered, while Snape let out a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief. McGonagall's rigid posture eased slightly, and Dumbledore's gaze lifted towards Ian, twinkling with a knowing glint.
"Mr. Prince, would you mind if we examined your wand? Of course, this is purely a formality." Dumbledore's request was gentle, but it carried an air of inevitability.
There was no alternative.
Ian could only retrieve his wand and hand it over. At Dumbledore's silent signal, Flitwick stepped forward and carefully accepted it from Ian's grasp.
"Don't fret, child; we will not falsely accuse the innocent." Flitwick's voice was meant to be reassuring, but Ian knew the truth— he 'had' cast Sectumsempra the previous day.
However.
Flitwick's earlier comment about the 'original' version of Sectumsempra was a significant revelation. It hinted at something deeper, something Ian needed to unravel.
Flitwick brought Ian's wand back to Dumbledore.
Ian knew exactly what they were going to do next.
'Prior Incantato.'
A spell that reveals the last spells cast by a wand.
He exhaled sharply.
He wasn't particularly worried about exposing his altercation with Peeves; Hogwarts was full of students with unusual talents and obscure family traits. Some even whispered that Ian's ancestors had mingled with spirits.
Being able to interact with ghosts wasn't exactly a secret worth hiding.
But still.
Rumors were already swirling about him supposedly Jinxing Daphne Greengrass, and after today, his reputation would only grow more dubious.
Because.
He really 'could' cast Jinxes.
"Prior Incantato!"
The inevitable moment arrived.
As Flitwick cast the spell, Ian prepared himself to explain.
However.
"What's this? Was my spell rejected? How is this possible?" Flitwick, a master of Charms, found himself utterly bewildered by the unprecedented reaction.
Elder wood. Unicorn tail hair.
This wand— an anomaly among wands— had just demonstrated its unwavering loyalty to its master.
…
The 'Prior Incantato' spell failed to take effect.
Every professor present, including Dumbledore, looked visibly surprised by this turn of events. It was no small thing— Filius Flitwick, a renowned duelist and expert in Charms, had a profound mastery of magic.
In terms of direct combat, the only wizard at Hogwarts who could reliably best him was none other than Albus Dumbledore. A Master's command of Charms should not falter against a simple reversal spell.
"It rejected my spell. Forcing it could damage the bond between wizard and wand," Flitwick murmured with a new realization dawning on him. He glanced at Dumbledore with an uncertain expression on his face.
"This is… most unexpected."
Dumbledore stepped forward, taking Ian's wand in his aged but steady hands. He examined it closely, tracing the wood with a thoughtful touch. The familiar texture and craftsmanship were there, but something was missing— an intoxicating hum of power he had anticipated.
'"Prior Incantato."'
Dumbledore cast the spell himself, his own wand held firmly. The magic flared briefly— an indistinct shimmer of an image— before it collapsed in on itself, vanishing as if it had never existed.
The air stilled.
"A rather extraordinary wand," Dumbledore remarked lightly, returning it to Ian. His piercing blue eyes twinkled, yet they held an unmistakable depth of scrutiny. "Do not take for granted the loyalty of such a companion. And never forget— Unicorn hair does not tolerate darkness."
Ian swallowed under the weight of that gaze.
Dumbledore had long been recognized as an alchemical prodigy— how could someone who had worked alongside Nicolas Flamel not be a master of the craft? Some whispered that age had dulled his abilities, but those who truly understood knew otherwise.
Time does not weaken great wizards.
It refines them.
"It will not be forgotten," Ian replied, gripping his wand with newfound reverence.
This was not an ordinary either. This was a true companion.
"Is there any other way to prove my innocence?" Ian asked at last, his gaze flickering between the professors before resting on Dumbledore.
"This was but a minor formality; it does not define our judgment of you." Dumbledore gave a slight nod, and none of the other professors raised any objections.
Still, some of the Prefects looked deeply unsettled.
Among them, the two Ravenclaw Prefects had fixed their eyes on Ian's wand, their expressions reflecting a shared disbelief.
'A wand can reject 'Prior Incantato'?' 'Why can't mine do that?'
"If the Headmaster has already determined Ian didn't do it, can we take him away now? Surely, this kind of scene would leave a psychological scar on a child."
Penelope's tone was filled with concern, as though she was shielding a fragile first-year.
She probably didn't realize Ian's expression was far calmer than hers.
"Mr. Prince will remain. The Prefects may go." Dumbledore's voice was gentle, yet it left no room for argument. "I trust you will exercise discretion regarding tonight's events. There is no need for unnecessary speculation."
Of course, Ian doubted that would stop them.
He'd bet twenty Galleons that by breakfast, the entire school would be buzzing with wild theories.
Just as the students began to leave—
"What are you playing at?! Aren't you supposed to reveal his last spells? I 'know' there's something in there— he 'definitely' used magic to kill Professor Ronnie Ehrlich!"
Marcus Flint's voice roared through the Owlery. He shoved aside the Prefects attempting to hold him back, his heavy footfalls echoing against the stone floor.
"Are you, a fourth Year Student, questioning Dumbledore's judgment?" Snape's voice cut through the air with a cold and unforgiving tone. His dark eyes glinted as he flicked his wand.
Flint barely had time to react before he was slammed to the ground.
"It is well known that a wand core of Unicorn tail hair 'cannot' channel Dark magic. You are not only challenging the Headmaster's decision— but disputing the very foundations of magical law itself."
Snape delivered the statement with such conviction that, for a moment, one might have believed he 'actually' believed it.
Flint thrashed against the spell, his strength impressive for a fourth-year, but Snape had no intention of releasing him. The Slytherin Prefects averted their eyes, unwilling to intervene. They had no desire to be dragged into Flint's spectacle.
"You're covering for him!" Flint bellowed, his face red with fury. "He 'did it'! I saw it with my own eyes! The Ministry won't let you get away with this! My family has connections— connections, do you hear me?! You'll all pay for this!"
The professors exchanged glances.
(To Be Continued…)
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