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?
Each one was better at self-reflection than the last, yet none looked forward.
His evil stepmother-senior, who had written books for their teacher, was the same. The daughter of Lady Rowena Ravenclaw before him was no different. From what he saw in the Twilight Zone, his evil stepmother-senior hadn't been taken to Professor Morgana by any spirit raven. Perhaps she, too, had become a self-imprisoned ghost somewhere, like Helena Ravenclaw.
"Ian, your eloquence is quite good. But you clearly haven't studied much about ghosts. To this day, not a single ghost has departed from the mortal world."
"Do you know why?"
"Because becoming a ghost is a one-time choice. Once you become a ghost, your soul can no longer change its state. You'll learn about this in your fourth year."
Helena Ravenclaw reached out and patted Ian's head from a distance, then floated away. As her figure disappeared, Ian still hadn't figured out how to phrase "Come to my dorm tomorrow night to sleep together" in a way that wouldn't be easily misunderstood.
"Tell her there's a miracle in my bed tomorrow night? Ugh, that sounds even creepier than saying there's a treasure!" Ian scratched his head in frustration. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how easily it could be misinterpreted.
Perhaps the only way to avoid misunderstanding was to knock Helena Ravenclaw out with a blow and then quickly fall asleep with her before she could react.
Knocking her out would be easy.
But falling asleep instantly would be a bit tricky.
A sleeping potion?
Or maybe casting Stupefy on himself?
Ian had never tried entering that boundary at the right time using such methods.
"Ah, my dear professor, how am I supposed to help your family reunite as promised?" Ian turned to look at the portrait where Helena had been standing.
In the exquisite frame.
The dignified and elegant Rowena Ravenclaw smiled at him. Shaking his head slightly in frustration, Ian headed to the kitchen. He planned to grab a bite to eat before going to the library to study languages.
His recent studies in alchemy had been quite intense, and the gift he was preparing for Aurora was starting to take shape. He needed to relax his mind with something simpler.
"Rustle, rustle~"
As soon as Ian left.
The wind blew outside the window.
"As you said, we will meet again... little raven." The portrait, silent for a thousand years, suddenly spoke. The voice, spanning across time, echoed softly in the quiet corridor, offering a belated response.
...
After eating his fill.
Ian happily received a special hotpot meal.
Satisfied, he made his way to the library.
"If I hadn't delved into this field, who would have thought house elves once had their own language? Probably many house elves themselves don't even know."
For Ian, learning languages was a way to relax and take a break.
What could be easier than learning languages? With his innate Linguistic Comprehension ability, his proficiency in languages grew rapidly.
Studying ancient magical texts was the most efficient, as it simultaneously improved two types of proficiency. However, Ian had recently developed a fondness for learning the languages of other species.
Whether it was Goblin, Giant, or Centaur language, they all significantly boosted his Linguistic Comprehension, just as much as studying ancient magical texts.
Ian had always been interested in Parseltongue. After all, if he wanted to retrieve the well-behaved basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets, he needed to be able to communicate with it. However, perhaps because Parseltongue was closely tied to bloodline magic, he hadn't been able to find any learning materials in the library.
He couldn't find anything in the regular sections or even the Restricted Section. Perhaps he would have to wait until the Boy Who Lived arrived at Hogwarts and learn it syllable by syllable from him.
No matter how hard he searched, there were no materials on Parseltongue to be found. His efforts had led him to a rather peculiar book titled 'The Dance of the Mooncalf', written by a former student who had been expelled.
Mooncalves were smooth-skinned, pale-grey magical creatures with large, round eyes atop their heads and four slender legs with wide, flat feet. Shy by nature, they only emerged from their burrows on full moon nights.
Their silvery dung, if collected before dawn, was an invaluable fertilizer that could enhance the growth and vitality of magical plants.
Ian had always considered Mooncalves an ideal solution for large-scale potion ingredient cultivation. These gentle, bumbling creatures performed elaborate, rhythmic dances under the moonlight, rising onto their hind legs in an intricate display.
'The Dance of the Mooncalf' purported to teach the precise movements required to join in this ritual. According to the author, his dance was so mesmerizing that it could charm any Mooncalf into responding.
"That book must have been written by some overconfident fool, probably one of Dumbledore's predecessors bragging about his so-called expertise. Otherwise, why would it be in the Restricted Section?" Ian muttered, shelving it in frustration before continuing his search.
The Hogwarts library was enormous.
The Restricted Section alone contained more books than he could hope to read in a lifetime. Even skimming the titles took an absurd amount of time, let alone studying them in depth.
A Hogwarts education lasted only seven years. Excluding holidays, that left 266 weeks. Even at his accelerated pace— devouring two or three books a week— he would barely make it through 800. The library, by contrast, housed hundreds of thousands of magical texts.
It was no wonder so many knowledge-hungry witches and wizards dreamed of returning to Hogwarts as professors. Even the most brilliant minds could spend their entire lives studying here and still never reach the bottom of its well of wisdom.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Madam Pince is skiving off!" Ian scowled as he arrived at the library, only to find the doors tightly locked.
It was barely noon!
Even if she were to take a break, she wouldn't leave this early— especially not when term was in full swing.
"Alohomora!" Ian cast the unlocking charm confidently. He had refined the spell to an impressive level— strong enough to match many graduates.
But the door barely rattled. The lock held firm, utterly unaffected.
"A level four lock? Since when did Hogwarts security rely on numbered levels instead of pure magical ingenuity?" Ian sighed, a newfound respect for the library's wards settling in.
He sat on the floor outside the entrance, waiting for half an hour— long enough to eat an entire roast beef dinner— but Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen.
A few older students wandered by, mostly Ravenclaws with a couple of Slytherin fourth- and fifth-years in the mix.
The Ravenclaws, determined as always, attempted to unlock the door themselves before leaving, clearly disappointed. The Slytherins, however, took one look at Ian and immediately turned on their heels.
Yes.
Ian had a reputation among Slytherins— especially after the widely circulated tale of 'Marcus Wetting Himself in the Corridor, Wizards Trapped in Holy Fire.'
Courtesy of the Weasley twins, of course. If there was an opportunity to poke fun at Slytherins, the twins would seize it with both hands— and embellish the details for good measure.
The story had spread far and wide, and while Ian found it amusing, he was rather annoyed that the twins hadn't paid him any royalties.
"Madam Pince, you'd better not be off having a scandalous rendezvous." He grumbled, finally standing up and casting a cleaning charm on his robes.
Just as he turned to leave, a familiar face appeared.
Cho Chang.
His first 'Partner'.
"Ah, my esteemed business partner! Any luck selling the map?" Ian greeted her warmly.
(To Be Continued…)
You can read ahead up to 60 chapters on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/darkshadow6395