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Ian shook his bulging robes; all his valuables were on him, and the borrowed books were wrapped in oil paper and stuffed into the water tank in the washroom.
Upon returning to the dormitory, it turned out Ian's decision was correct. Although there were signs of Ashwinders in the washroom, the books hidden in the tank were still intact.
Michael and William, however, weren't quite so lucky.
"Bloody hell! The Ashwinders burned my underwear!" William yelped, his face pale as if he might faint at any moment.
"That was my new pair! It even had a moving picture of Dumbledore on it!" His lament was so heartfelt that Ian turned to stare at him in disbelief.
He made a mental note to keep an eye on this roommate— who in their right mind would buy undergarments with a famous wizard's likeness? Wouldn't it feel odd wearing them?
"It's all gone! All the food I stashed away— vanished! Those ruddy Ashwinders!" Michael groaned, equally distraught. "When I grow up, I'm going to invent a potion that wipes out snakes for good!"
The loss seemed to hit Michael hard, but Ian privately thought it might not be such a bad thing.
"Last night's food was already spoiled," He offered in what he thought was a kind attempt at consolation.
Michael, however, only looked more dismayed. "It was just a little off! It's not like it was inedible! At worst, you'd get the runs— but that's nothing a quick trip to Madam Pomfrey wouldn't fix! Her potions taste like pumpkin juice anyway!"
Ian blinked. 'What an… interesting perspective.'
He was beginning to suspect his roommate wasn't quite right in the head.
"Well, next time, grab me a couple of bottles," he muttered, realizing that perhaps he wasn't much better. He had always wondered what some of those potions actually tasted like.
Ian then turned his attention to his own belongings. His blanket and sheets were scorched, carrying the acrid scent of burnt fabric, and even his suitcase beneath the bed hadn't escaped the Ashwinders' wrath.
Nothing that magic couldn't fix, of course.
"I reckon the school ought to compensate us for our losses," William grumbled, tugging at the edges of his singed robes. His socks had also suffered damage, though it seemed the destruction of his underwear hurt the most.
"The one who caused all this should pay," Michael added more reasonably. "I wonder if the professors will find out who it was."
Unlikely.
The culprit was still somewhere in the castle… but Ah Foleyson Carrow was nowhere to be found.
"I need to calm down," Ian muttered, rummaging through his suitcase. Some of his clothes had been damaged, but to his relief, the cans of Muggle soda he'd smuggled in remained intact.
"Thank you, Ermal "Ernie" Cleon Fraze, for inventing the pull-tab can," Ian murmured as he cracked one open, taking a deep gulp of the fizzy drink.
"Reparo."
He tapped the rim of the can with his wand, and it magically resealed itself as if it had never been opened.
"I love magic," he sighed happily, immediately popping open another.
As everyone knew, the first sip of soda was always the best.
"Can you fix my underwear too?" William shuffled over, holding a pitiful handful of ash in his cupped palms. He clearly wasn't confident in his own spellwork.
As for Ian's soda, both William and Michael had seen him drink it before and weren't particularly interested. Muggle drinks didn't hold much appeal in the wizarding world— certainly not compared to Butterbeer or the sugar-laden concoctions sold at Honeydukes.
Ian let out a long, satisfied belch and eyed the remains in William's hands. "Even Merlin wouldn't be able to do anything with that."
Still, for the sake of experimentation, he gave it a try.
As expected, something that had been reduced entirely to ashes couldn't be repaired. Restoration spells were powerful, but they couldn't reverse total destruction. The best he could do was remove the magical traces left behind by the fire— but at the end of the day, ashes were still just ashes.
"You're better off buying a new pair," Ian advised.
The last thing he wanted was to be in a duel one day and suddenly hear William's magically-restored pants disintegrate mid-fight.
"That was a limited edition!"
William looked devastated but still carefully collected the ashes, placing them in a small box. Ian wasn't sure whether he meant to use them as motivation for his future magical studies or if it was some sort of bizarre keepsake.
Shaking his head, Ian turned back to the mess in their dormitory.
"Reparo."
One by one, the damaged bedsheets, furniture, and other scattered belongings mended themselves, looking good as new.
"You're brilliant," William praised, still mourning his lost underwear. "No wonder you don't stay up late studying— you've already learned all the first-year spells!"
Ian rolled his eyes. "You're only eleven— why is your imagination so limited?"
With one final flick of his wand, he repaired his suitcase. None of this had tired him out in the slightest. With a magic level of eight, even the events of tonight— Fiendfyre and all— hadn't really pushed him to his limits.
"Did you disappear during the chaos in the Great Hall?" Michael suddenly asked. "I wanted to share the Every-Flavour Beans Rebecca gave me, but I couldn't find you anywhere." He reached into his robes and pulled out an empty box.
"This was her first gift to me," he said wistfully, stroking the box as if it were a priceless relic. "Even though they were just leftovers, I'll treasure this forever. One day, I'll tell our children about it— how our love story began."
Ian grimaced.
"I need to use the loo."
The last thing he wanted was to irritate Snape any further. Some things were best left unspoken, and he wasn't eager for word to spread around the school about what had really happened tonight.
Besides, he didn't know if it was because he had once seen the way Fiendfyre burned when Aurora had used it before— but tonight, when he had watched Foleyson Carrow go up in flames, he found himself looking away.
Looking back now, the inner turmoil wasn't as overwhelming as Ian had expected... perhaps because Fiendfyre consumed everything so swiftly. Beyond that, he couldn't find another explanation.
"When I came back, I saw Professor Snape returning with you. Were you two having a contest to see who could cast a stronger Levitation Charm?" Michael's keen observation caught Ian off guard— he had noticed Ian's absence.
"Ian must have had his reasons for leaving. Maybe he was off doing something important—perhaps even saving the wizarding world without us knowing!" William chimed in, clearly attempting to curry favor.
He might not have seen a famous hero in the flesh, but he certainly knew how to flatter.
"Saving the world? That's a bit much. I'm no Harry Potter. Don't butter me up like that, or I'll have to treat you to Chocolate Frogs tomorrow."
Ian had seen the name of the Boy Who Lived in countless books, which was why so many in the wizarding world were thrilled whenever they caught a glimpse of his name.
His name had been woven into so many tales.
"Do you know Harry Potter? I'm really grateful to him; he avenged my father." Even Michael seemed to admire him, proof of just how influential Harry was among younger wizards.
William, eager to endear himself to Ian, was pulling out all the stops to praise him as the "new student prodigy."
He didn't even hesitate in front of Michael. In fact, William had tried several times to rope Michael into his antics, always brimming with enthusiasm.
Clearly, he was still just another ambitious student.
"Whoosh!"
Ian suddenly stood up, startling both William and Michael.
"Are you leaving?" William looked anxious, worried he might have said something wrong.
"I need to revise your recommendation letter. I realized I didn't highlight your strengths properly. I like to be thorough with my work." Ian sat down at a small table.
Sure enough, he picked up a quill and began writing.
William beamed, showering Ian with praise, while even Michael couldn't help but roll his eyes at the over-the-top flattery.
"With William's talent, I doubt I'd master it even in seven years. I'm doomed— I'll never get into the Ministry of Magic."
…
(To Be Continued…)