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.
Had it not been for the fact that most library books couldn't be duplicated with a Doubling Charm, Michael— who had gotten up in the middle of the night for a trip to the loo— might have assumed Ian was secretly cramming under the covers.
After all, Ian had promised to bring Professor Morgana as much contemporary magical knowledge as possible.
Of course, gifts couldn't be forgotten either. To ensure he didn't lose anything he brought into that strange realm, Ian had spent a small fortune acquiring old books discarded by upper-year students. This same concern led him, after much deliberation, to abandon the idea of bringing Mind Control: From Legilimency to the Imperius Curse.
As useful as it might have been in unmasking Professor Morgana's disguise, Ian had no particular desire to feel Madam Pince's feather duster— or worse, find himself permanently blacklisted from the Hogwarts library.
"I just hope I don't end up somewhere else again…" Ian muttered to himself. "Maybe Professor Mara knows what trick Aurora's grandfather used this morning to slip past my magic…"
His eyelids grew heavy. Drowsiness tugged at him, and soon, that all-too-familiar sensation returned— the slow, weightless drift from wakefulness into something deeper, something beyond the bounds of life and death.
"My dear professor! Have you had dinner yet?" Ian opened his eyes.
The gilded, resplendent hall was as familiar as ever— the great castle belonging to her. Instinctively, Ian turned his gaze toward the long bench, and sure enough, the witch was there, idly flipping through a book. She glanced up at him, her expression unreadable.
"It seems you've traveled to a new place."
Whether her observation was based on the passage of time was unclear. After all, Ian's seven days could have been seven days in the Twilight Realm— or three months. The concept of time here was fractured, disconnected from the real world.
"Teacher, I brought some snacks for you. And a few new books."
Ian emptied a small pile of wizarding treats onto the table. The witch, however, only spared them a fleeting glance. Instead, her sharp eyes settled on the textbooks.
There was no interest.
If anything, there was a flicker of disdain in her eyes.
"If this is the level of knowledge wizards have reached in your era, then I'd say you've regressed to the state of primitive Muggles."
Her tone was direct— blunt, even. Not the sneering sarcasm of Snape, but something sharper, something cutting in its sheer honesty.
"Well, these are just introductory materials," Ian admitted. "There are far rarer books I didn't dare bring. If I couldn't take them back, the consequences would be… unpleasant."
The witch's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. Then—
"Your magic."
She studied him carefully, frowning. "You still haven't reached your limit?"
Ian hesitated.
Something in her words gave him pause. Instinctively, he checked his magical status.
Name: Ian Prince
Occupation: Bloodline Sorcerer
Magical Power: Level 8 (in a state of explosive growth)
Skill: [Wisdom's Insight (This skill cannot be upgraded)]
…
"What exactly is the limit?" Ian asked, sensing a hidden meaning in her words.
"You'll know when you reach it. It won't be long now. When that happens, the lingering effects of the Golden Apple will fade as well."
She spoke as though she could see the magic within him, peering straight through his body.
"What happens when I reach it?" Ian pressed. That was the real question.
The witch rested her chin on one hand, regarding him with an amused smile.
"Maybe you'll just boom— explode into a thousand little pieces. Then you can stay here forever and keep me company."
Her tone was teasing, but Ian still swallowed.
"I'd rather live a few more decades, thanks…" he muttered.
The witch smirked, then propped her cheek against her palm.
"When a wizard's magic reaches its limit, they gain a clearer perception of the Twilight Realm. Some even develop the ability to sense whether the people they seek have arrived. I suspect you might be a bit more… unusual than the rest of us."
A speculation. Nothing more. But from her, that meant something.
"The last time I traveled here, I found myself with Lady Ravenclaw," Ian admitted. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized something— this witch predated Hogwarts itself. Hastily, he added, "She's one of the four founders of Hogwarts."
The witch gave a knowing nod.
She raised the book she had been reading, tilting it just enough for him to see the author's name. Rowena Ravenclaw.
"She left quite a few books behind for future generations," The witch remarked idly.
Ian hesitated, then asked something that had been on his mind since his encounter with Ravenclaw.
"She said my Animagus form is a raven. Do you know why?"
The witch gave him a long, thoughtful look.
Then, in a tone dripping with amusement, she replied—
"Because you're as flighty as a bird?"
The witch didn't give Ian the answer he was hoping for.
"An impressive witch. What did she teach you?"
She arched an eyebrow, steering the conversation in another direction.
"Transfiguration."
Ian cast a glance at the wall. In response, the witch flicked her wrist, and a picture frame morphed seamlessly into a wand, which flew neatly into his hand. He then began recounting his progress, detailing his studies and newfound skills.
After a brief demonstration, he stood there, pleased with himself, fully expecting a word of praise.
However—
"Not bad. You've reached an acceptable level. Perhaps it's time you put your skills to use and started repairing my sentries… if you've been keeping up with your alchemy studies."
The witch's sharp gaze appraised him with renewed scrutiny.
Ian hadn't anticipated that displaying his progress would immediately land him with a hefty workload.
Was this the curse of competence?!
"Of course, I've been studying," Ian said, quickly composing himself. "I've even managed to craft a few decent pieces. But… I haven't had the time to make a second one yet." He hesitated before tentatively suggesting, "Maybe I could help you repair the sentries next time? Today, I'd like to visit the town— see Ariana and Pandero."
He added, almost as an afterthought, "I have a message to deliver to Ariana from her family."
Ian half-expected her to be displeased. But to his surprise, she simply shrugged and nodded in agreement.
"That is your task."
She didn't press for details, nor did she appear particularly curious. Instead, she simply regarded Ian with an odd expression, something bordering on amusement.
"I must say, I didn't expect you to be this patient," she mused. "You've managed to hold back your true intentions for this long. I thought you'd crack five minutes ago."
It was such an abrupt remark that Ian blinked in confusion.
Then—
Ah.
"This must be Legilimency!" Ian declared, feigning a gasp of realization. Then, deciding to add more drama, he amended, "No— wait! It's the Imperius Curse!"
The witch rolled her eyes.
"Do you really think I need mind-reading for that little scheme of yours?" She scoffed.
Since the moment Ian had arrived, he had been calling her 'teacher' rather than 'Professor Mara.'
"I was only teasing you," She admitted. "But I didn't expect you to actually stumble upon something."
She looked entirely too pleased with herself, as if Ian had just provided her with months' worth of amusement.
"You picked that up while retrieving the mirror, didn't you? The Imperius Curse… hmm. That child truly understands it." She nodded approvingly. "It seems you've been diligent in your efforts to find it for me."
Ian had no intention of explaining further.
Instead, he shifted the topic.
"I ran into a bit of trouble using that magic," He admitted. "One of my professors— An Old Guy—used some kind of shedding technique to resist my mental intrusion."
His mind was already working ahead, analyzing ways to counter it in the next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.
"Tsk, tsk. Even a professor wants to keep you under control," The witch said, clicking her tongue. There was an amused glint in her eyes as she casually tore a small strip from her sleeve and flicked it toward Ian.
"I suspect your professor is well-versed in Legilimency, though his methods aren't particularly refined," She continued. "All he did was create a layered transformation to throw off your mental focus."
She paused, considering. "Yes… I'd wager he's skilled in Human Transfiguration as well."
Ian caught the fabric between his fingers, immediately sensing its significance.
"Thank you, my teacher… or should I say, Professor Morgana?" He mused, rolling the scrap of cloth between his fingers. He was already looking forward to the next round of magical exchanges in class.
"My apprentice, aside from that, haven't you discovered anything else?"
The witch's gaze flickered toward the untouched Chocolate Frogs and other wizarding treats he had brought.
Ian hesitated, then slowly said, "I also learned that my senior sister actually regrets betraying you… She carried guilt for her entire life."
He wasn't entirely sure of his own words, but the witch simply smiled, resting her chin in her palm as she lazily turned another page in her book.
"Oh, I knew that already," she said airily. "In fact, I did it on purpose."
Ian stiffened.
Wait.
She what?
"I wasn't dead when she died."
…
Merlin's beard.
The case was solved.
No wonder he hadn't seen that particular 'senior sister' here.
His mind reeled.
Poor woman.
She probably really couldn't rest in peace.
(End of Chapter)
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