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A simple Alohomora would have sufficed, but even if he hadn't lost his wand, it was doubtful he could have performed such basic magic in his current state.
Perhaps it was truly the Memory Charm that had unraveled Gilderoy Lockhart's past, stripping him of all he once was. After all, his life had been spent leeching off the triumphs of others—rewriting their feats into his own fabricated legend.
And now—
Fate, in its peculiar way, had not been unkind to Gilderoy Lockhart. Once again, it had granted him exactly what he desired: a glorious past in which to lose himself completely.
How ironic.
…
Aurora's talent was undeniable.
At least, more so than most of the young witches and wizards Ian had encountered. She had taken to Sectumsempra with surprising ease when he taught her, yet for some reason, she remained unable to conjure a Patronus.
Ian had chosen an empty classroom for their lesson, but despite hours of practice and his careful guidance, Aurora's wand could only produce faint silver wisps—threads of light that dissipated as quickly as they formed.
After several hours—
There was still little progress.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Aurora's final attempt ended like all the others. She tightened her grip on her wand, drawing a steady breath, willing herself to summon warmth, to cling to the happiest memories she could recall.
A weak glimmer sparked at the tip of her wand, a fleeting silver glow—no more than a wisp, vanishing almost as soon as it appeared.
Like a shooting star swallowed by the night.
"It's alright, there's no need to rush," Ian reassured her. "Maybe I'm just not teaching it well enough. Or maybe you're just not happy enough— easily solved! Hold on, I'll ask my dear uncle Snape to brew a batch of Felix Felicis for you."
Ian grinned as they left the Room of Requirement.
"There's a potion for improving the Patronus Charm?" Aurora asked, though her expression showed more curiosity than genuine concern. Her brows furrowed as she sifted through the various potion recipes she had learned.
"Well, perhaps not exactly, but if we can't summon joy, we can certainly create it!" Ian declared. "Maybe a proper feast will do the trick. Hotpot might just become a new happy memory for you!"
Without waiting for her answer, Ian led Aurora toward the Hogwarts kitchens, where the house-elves were always ready to accommodate.
"What's hotpot?" Aurora asked as she trailed after him, glancing curiously at the paintings lining the corridor. Unlike the others in Hogwarts, these portraits all depicted elaborate banquet scenes—meals frozen mid-celebration, the painted dishes steaming temptingly on their platters.
"It's a happy memory of mine."
Ian rapped his knuckles against the oversized painting of a pear. The fruit gave a high-pitched giggle and wriggled away, shifting into a polished brass door handle.
Seeing Aurora's surprise, Ian chuckled.
"Go on, you try."
She hesitated for only a moment before reaching out. The pear giggled again, dodging her touch before relenting, and with a soft click, the door swung open.
Inside—
The Hogwarts kitchens bustled with movement, a sea of small figures darting between enchanted pots and floating trays.
"So many house-elves!" Aurora gasped. She had seen house-elves before, of course, but never in such numbers. Most wizarding families— even the wealthiest— considered themselves fortunate to own a single elf. The Malfoys, for all their influence, had only ever kept one.
And yet—
Hogwarts was home to over a hundred, each one far more powerful than the average adult wizard might assume. Strong magic coursed through them, magic that even the Ministry dared not underestimate. The thought of any household keeping such an "army" of elves was laughable; it simply wasn't allowed.
"Little wizards! Little wizards!"
The elves turned at once, their large, eager eyes shining with delight. They bowed deeply, their movements perfectly synchronized as though they had rehearsed the gesture countless times.
"Mr. Prince has brought his friend who does not follow school rules!"
One of the elves— Rabby— squeaked out the observation, clearly recognizing Aurora. House-elves, it seemed, had excellent memories.
"Hotpot! The usual! Thinly sliced meat, extra spice!" Ian called out, striding confidently toward a familiar corner of the kitchen, where a large copper cauldron was already being set up.
Snape would have been livid if he ever saw this scene—
A bubbling cauldron, but instead of a potion, it was filled with rich bone broth, floating with fiery red chilies and fragrant ginger slices. The house-elves worked deftly, adding ingredients with practiced precision, and soon—
The warm, enticing aroma filled the air.
The broth in the cauldron bubbled vigorously, red flames flickering beneath the surface. The house-elves moved in practiced synchrony, taking turns to bring forth an array of ingredients on gleaming silver trays.
Among them were rare mushrooms harvested from the shadowed depths of the Forbidden Forest, crisp vegetables freshly supplied by the school's greenhouses, and cuts of meat prepared with meticulous care.
Each ingredient was handled to perfection. Some things, after all, were best left to experts. Ian might have been handy with a knife, but when it came to seasoning, he knew better than to meddle.
As the ingredients simmered, their aromas thickening the air, Aurora inhaled deeply, her gaze drifting to the bustling house-elves, who never seemed to be idle.
Clad in tea towels emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest, they wore them like miniature robes, darting about with purpose—preparing food, tending the fire, and acting as the most diligent of waiters.
"Mr. Prince's favorite beef slices! Hobby cut them extra thin!"
A familiar elf approached with a tray. Alongside the delicate beef, there was also a selection of seafood—
Though likely not from the Black Lake.
"Perhaps the Hufflepuffs live happier lives than us," Aurora mused, watching the elves work. She had a fair idea where much of this feast would eventually end up.
"Hufflepuff never goes hungry— that's practically their house motto," Ian replied, dipping a slice of beef into the bubbling broth. Every house had its own advantages.
"Try this!"
With a flick of his chopsticks, Ian transferred the perfectly cooked beef into Aurora's bowl.
Having barely eaten at dinner, Aurora wasted no time spearing the meat with her fork and popping it into her mouth.
"Not bad."
Her eyes brightened.
"Right? Right? Here, have some more."
Ian, while eating his own meal, made sure to pile Aurora's bowl with extra portions— especially the ones steeped in the rich, spicy broth.
For a while, Aurora was too focused on her food to notice anything amiss. But as she continued eating, something suddenly felt off.
Her mouth was on fire.
"I need water!"
At some point, an intense heat had crept up on her, spreading from her tongue to her stomach. The realization came too late—she had already taken several bites. Desperate, she turned to Rabby, the nearest house-elf.
The elf, blissfully unaware that he had narrowly avoided disaster the previous night, eagerly fetched her a fresh glass of lemonade. Aurora downed it in grateful gulps, and after a breathless "thank you," Rabby scurried off to resume his duties.
However—
To Rabby, Aurora still didn't have a proper name. In his mind, she was simply "Mr. Prince's friend who breaks school rules but also likes lemonade, just like Mr. Prince."
"It's so spicy! How can you call this happiness?" Aurora fanned her face, her cheeks flushed from the heat. She stuck out her tongue, alternately gulping lemonade and glaring at Ian in bewilderment.
"Happiness takes time to settle," Ian remarked, looking far too pleased with himself. Seeing that Aurora had reached her limit, he finally set down the serving chopsticks with a satisfied nod and returned to his own meal, sparing her from further torment.
"By the way, you should try a bit of this." He gestured toward a side dish. "It's called 'See You Tomorrow'… might help with digestion."
The moonlight was serene.
Silver beams draped over the castle towers, their glow reflecting against the high-arched windows. As the hour grew late, one by one, the illuminated panes darkened, surrendering to the quiet hush of the night.
This was Hogwarts' time for ghosts.
While most students drifted into slumber, embarking on their own adventures in the realm of dreams, Ian remained an exception.
Unlike those who chose to spend their nights wandering the castle, he had taken a different approach. After escorting Aurora back to the Slytherin common room—pausing just long enough to flash her a cryptic smile— he made his way back to Ravenclaw Tower at a leisurely pace.
Yet, upon returning to his dormitory, he did not linger. He washed up quickly and climbed into bed, settling in for the night.
His destination, however, lay beyond mere dreams.
Before closing his eyes, Ian reached beneath his blankets and carefully tucked three boxes of Chocolate Frogs into place. After a moment's thought, he added a few bags of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and a handful of Jelly Slugs, stuffing them all into a well-worn satchel.
Everything had to be packed just right.
Snacks, second-hand textbooks, a Murtlap egg, and an old-fashioned wizarding camera borrowed from a seventh-year… Ian looked as if he were preparing for a camping trip— under his blanket.
(To Be Continued…)