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In the corridor.
Ian's figure looked quite disheveled.
He had become the first student to be expelled from Snape's class since the start of the term. Although Snape hadn't issued a permanent ban, the old bat's furious bellow had echoed through most of Hogwarts.
"I told you to demonstrate that my potions have a soul, not to kiss Snape in front of the entire class!" Ian cursed Peeves, placing full blame on the mischievous poltergeist.
"It wasn't my fault! He kissed me first! He must have done it on purpose!" Peeves, clutching his head where Ian had smacked him, looked utterly aggrieved. He didn't dare retaliate— after all, the Bloody Baron's terrifying presence in his mind had now dropped to second place.
"You ruined my number one ranking!" Ian delivered a swift kick to Peeves' rear, sending him tumbling nearly ten meters through the air.
"Waaah! My first kiss! That greasy Potions bat must take responsibility for this!" Peeves wailed dramatically before zipping off toward Snape's office.
Ian wasn't sure what Peeves planned to do, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Snape might find an extra, rather talkative, head on his pillow tonight.
"I fully support this marriage."
In the silent corridor.
Ian cast an idle glance out the window toward the Quidditch pitch, where the senior teams were practicing. From the way Slytherin was dominating, it looked like Gryffindor was in for a humiliating defeat.
Perhaps only Harry Potter could save them. Before the Boy Who Lived had joined, Slytherin had held the Quidditch Cup for years without challenge.
Even Marcus, who had been trembling like a first-year just days ago, was performing exceptionally well. His aggressive style made him an "outstanding" Seeker. No wonder he had so many supporters backing him up whenever he decided to corner Ian in the corridors— being a Quidditch player always earned favor among students.
"I haven't even received my compensation, and he's already out there playing Quidditch!" Ian fought the urge to interfere with the match. Otherwise, Marcus might have found himself suddenly taking an unscheduled nosedive off his broom.
Thanks to his recent studies in Legilimency— greatly aided by books written by his beautiful stepmother-senior— Ian had already advanced to level two in the skill.
Coupled with his innate Thought Perception ability, which was often mistaken for natural Legilimency, he had also managed to grasp an ancient form of dark magic known as Soul Snatching.
Unlike the Imperius Curse, one of the Unforgivable Curses, Soul Snatching had similarities but functioned differently. Ian had, of course, been practicing the Imperius Curse as well, and it, too, had reached level two.
However, while the Imperius Curse directly suppressed a person's will, turning them into an obedient puppet, Soul Snatching forcibly invaded a person's consciousness, allowing for the implantation and manipulation of memories.
It could permanently alter cognition— turning joyous recollections into sorrowful ones, or vice versa.
The effects were terrifying. While the book mentioned counter-spells, only Morgana... or rather, Professor Morgana, might know them. Ian's beautiful stepmother-senior had conveniently omitted any such details from her writings.
Perhaps she hadn't mastered them herself?
In any case, Soul Snatching was far more insidious than Legilimency, and Occlumency's defenses against it were significantly weaker.
According to 'Mental Manipulation: From Legilimency to Soul Snatching', this magic delved into the deepest realms of the soul.
"Miss Helena!"
While making his way toward the library, Ian encountered a ghost he hadn't seen in several days. She was floating in front of her mother's portrait, her expression sorrowful as she reminisced.
The founder's daughter was an ethereal beauty, her noble upbringing evident even in her ghostly form. Tall and graceful, she exuded an air of refined melancholy.
It was no wonder the Bloody Baron had been so utterly bewitched by Helena Ravenclaw in life. As Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, she had inherited her mother's striking features and scholarly elegance, making her the unattainable dream of many.
"Ian, I saw Peeves heading to the dungeons."
Helena Ravenclaw had spoken with Ian a handful of times. When he first arrived at Hogwarts, he had worried about Peeves pulling pranks on him at inconvenient moments.
Fortunately, Helena had been kind enough to warn him about Peeves' whereabouts.
The Ravenclaw ghost was quite helpful. While her past mistakes painted her as somewhat naïve, that was only because she was an idealist— a romantic at heart.
Of course.
Ian had likely won her favor for similar reasons.
Even though losing the Diadem had cost her much of her innocence, a young wizard with looks surpassing even Tom Riddle's was bound to catch her attention.
"I know. Peeves and I have become rather familiar. He told me he's off to 'warm' Snape's bed." Ian no longer had to worry about Peeves launching any sudden attacks on him.
Helena, however, having been absent for several days, was unaware of this development.
"You actually get along with Peeves? That's remarkable." Helena looked at him with mild surprise. It was rare to see a student who didn't instinctively avoid the poltergeist.
"Peeves isn't so bad. He just needs a bit of reasoning." Ian glanced at his clenched fist. Clearly, his version of "reasoning" had been quite persuasive.
"I apologize for letting you see me like this." Helena turned away, dabbing at the tears that threatened to spill over.
"Are you thinking about Lady Ravenclaw? Perhaps it's time to be brave and move forward. Maybe she's been waiting for you all along." Ian could only hint at ways to help Rowena Ravenclaw— he couldn't exactly reveal that he could travel between realms as a spirit walker.
"My mother would never forgive me, nor do I expect her to... It was all my fault. I only hope she has found peace on her new journey."
Helena's translucent eyes shimmered with sorrow.
She covered her face, silent tears slipping between her ghostly fingers.
Ian quickly spoke, hoping to ease her pain.
"You might be underestimating your mother's love for you. If she's been waiting for you all this time, how could she ever be at peace? We all know the legends about the departed."
He softened his tone, offering words of comfort. "The afterlife is a new journey, much like an unknown path at night. I believe no one understands a daughter better than her mother. She will wait for you, and when the time comes, she will take your hand and guide you, dispelling your fears and uncertainties."
Helena Ravenclaw lowered her hands. Her misty eyes studied Ian's youthful face with quiet contemplation.
"Not only are you more handsome, but you're also more eloquent than that person. You will surely have a brighter future than he did. I just hope you don't grow up to be a bad person like him."
Helena Ravenclaw was clearly referring to the young Tom Riddle. "Ian, I believe you mean well. You've even lessened some of my fears. Now I truly believe my mother loved me enough. But you don't know me, or the unforgivable mistakes I've made."
A thousand-year-old heartache couldn't be resolved with just a few words.
"Lady Helena, avoiding the problem won't solve anything. What child doesn't make mistakes? There's no treasure in this world more precious than one's own child."
Ian continued to speak softly.
Helena Ravenclaw seemed surprised. She looked the young wizard up and down. "It seems you know quite a bit about my story?"
Ian nodded noncommittally.
"Such a typical Ravenclaw wizard. Curiosity always drives you to explore. But no matter how many books you read, you'll never truly understand my mother." Helena Ravenclaw sighed softly. "She was so outstanding, yet I tore her pride to shreds."
"Even if she could forgive me, I could never forgive myself." Clearly, Helena Ravenclaw's heartache hadn't been resolved by Ian's comforting words.
"You will meet again someday. Why prolong the wait?"
Ian looked at the unmoved ghost and sighed softly. He felt he might need to improve his persuasion skills. Why were these ancient witches always like this?
(To Be Continued…)