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Fear? Unease? Humiliation?
"Why am I missing several days of memories? And why is every Gryffindor whispering that I was dragged away for killing the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?!"
Marcus Flint didn't realize Ian had already begun piecing together his thoughts.
His voice was loud— almost a roar— but there was a note of desperation behind it.
"That's funny, I could say the same thing," Ian said coolly. "As far as I recall, you're the one who framed me."
"What a joke! How could I possibly kill a professor? It had to be you! Or your uncle! He's a Death Eater— he's trying to pin the crime on me!"
Finally understanding why Marcus Flint was so hysterical, Ian also realized why he showed no respect for Snape, their Head of House.
"I must have seen Snape do it— that's why he put me under the Imperius Curse! Then, the next day, he staged a performance, dragged me off, and erased what little memory I had left!"
Marcus Flint's voice cracked as he ranted, his paranoia feeding his panic.
And truthfully… Ian couldn't blame him.
If he were truly "framed," his family's connections in the Ministry would obviously be useless against the Acolytes. His entire family might even be implicated.
Who wouldn't be anxious in his place?
"Why don't you ask the professors? If someone really framed you for killing the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, how could you be let go and allowed to continue attending classes?"
Ian couldn't understand Marcus Flint's thought process.
"Of course, I've asked a few professors. They're clearly no good, telling me nothing. I think they're trying to cover for Snape!"
"You're all trying to lull me into a false sense of security! Hah! Do you think I can't see it? I'm the scapegoat for driving out little Grindelwald!"
Marcus Flint seemed utterly convinced of his own theory.
It was a Pure-blooded arrogance that showed their truly 'exceptional intelligence'.
"The professors at Hogwarts wouldn't cover for Snape out of personal connections… You're probably still not thinking clearly. I suggest you go to the infirmary and get checked."
After saying this, Ian wanted to leave with his two pale-faced, frightened roommates. Unexpectedly, Marcus Flint immediately raised his wand and cast a spell at him.
"Locomotor Mortis!"
It wasn't an Unforgivable Curse.
Marcus Flint's skill was clearly inferior to that of the high-ranking student who seemed to be everywhere. Or perhaps it was because there were too many people around to use more malicious charms.
"Protego."
Ian had been on guard.
He cast Protego immediately, and the spell was deflected to the side. Perhaps, by coincidence, a Slytherin wizard who had been cheering for Marcus Flint was unlucky enough to be hit.
However.
Compared to the panic of the cursed wizard whose feet were stuck together, Daphne Greengrass's face in the group of pure-blood Slytherin students turned even paler.
"We're doomed! We're doomed!"
Daphne Greengrass regretted waking up too early. She thought Marcus Flint was truly insane. Didn't he know about the relationship between Lady Grindelwald and that boy?
"You…"
Ian turned around with a cold expression.
"Is this the etiquette of your pure-blood nobility? Attacking without warning?" He held his wand, calmly looking at Marcus Flint, whose face was filled with disbelief.
"I need to use you to prove my innocence. It was your Death Eater uncle who killed the professor!" Marcus Flint raised his wand to cast another spell.
"Silencio." Ian cast the spell first.
The spell hit and Marcus Flint's tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, making it impossible for him to speak, let alone cast spells. He let out a furious roar from his throat.
He began to plead with his eyes.
Some of his close friends pulled out their wands, and William and Michael quickly tried to intervene, though they hadn't learned any spells that could be used in such a situation.
"Whoosh!"
Suddenly.
A surge of fire erupted on the corridor floor, rising like an angry beast, its orange flames encircling the group of Slytherin students.
The flames roared, the heat waves distorting the air. The older students wanted to pull out their wands but found Ian staring coldly at them.
The flames were inches from their feet, as if ready to engulf them at any moment—the wise ones chose to put their wands down. Slytherins understood better than anyone when to back down.
"How is this possible!"
"Incendio? No! How could Incendio be this terrifying!"
"He's going to kill us all!"
Everyone felt a spine-chilling horror, the heat waves threatening to burn them. They couldn't comprehend how a little wizard could instantly overpower them all.
"I knew it!"
Among the panicked crowd, only Daphne Greengrass's expression remained unsurprised. She didn't make any move to pull out her wand. When her eyes met Ian's cold gaze, she immediately raised her hands in surrender, then, as if realizing it wasn't appropriate, crouched down and covered her head.
"Ian, you're amazing!"
William's eyes were filled with fervor while Michael stood beside him with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
Standing outside the circle of fire, they formed a stark contrast to Marcus Flint, whose mouth was sealed, and his eyes were filled with terror.
He held his wand but was unable to cast spells.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't produce any magic.
"I've tolerated you for a long time. You were under the Imperius Curse, I get it… but what does that have to do with me? I don't expect you to respect me, but you should at least respect your professor!" Ian suddenly raised his wand and pressed it down.
Immediately.
Marcus Flint, who was still trying to cast spells non-verbally, hunched over as if a mountain was pressing down on his back, making it impossible for him to straighten up.
"Before a duel, you must bow, Mr. Flint. With your distinguished status, do I really have to teach you etiquette? Didn't your house teach you what grace is?" Ian spoke in a gentle voice while bending down.
"See, like this."
He demonstrated.
When he straightened up.
Marcus Flint felt the mountain on his back disappear, and his tongue, stuck to the roof of his mouth, returned to normal. Instinctively, he angrily shouted a spell.
"Expelliarmus!"
Perhaps he really hadn't learned any powerful magic. Marcus Flint's Disarming Charm was easily deflected by Ian's Protego, hitting the dim wall.
"You didn't even count to three. Tsk, it seems I can't be polite with you either."
Ian raised his hand.
His wand emitted a green light.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Marcus Flint, terrified to the extreme, turned pale as a ghost, his legs giving out as he knelt on the ground, trembling uncontrollably.
After a while.
He realized he wasn't dead, and his pants were wet.
"So boring, you can't even tell any difference between a Lumos Charm and the Unforgivable Curse, yet you are here to challenge me?" Ian flicked his wand, and the wand Marcus Flint had dropped flew back into his hand.
"Go on, believe me, the next spell won't disappoint you."
Marcus Flint fainted.
"Take him away and I don't think any of you will be complaining to any professor," Ian extinguished the raging fire on the ground and calmly looked at a group of wizards whose eyes were filled with fear and whose faces were as pale as paper and who dared not look him in the eye and his gentle words did not make people relax.
Instead, the group of young wizards who had escaped from trouble became even more nervous.
But, Ian soon discovered that these people's eyes were not on him, but were looking in the direction behind him. Even William's voices of flattery and praise disappeared without a trace.
Perhaps, Marcus Flint's fainting also has some tactical significance, because.
"Mr. Prince, I don't think they need to notify me, as I have been watching for quite some time." It was the voice of Albus Dumbledore.
So close.
(End Of This Chapter)