Ian, newly proficient in the Disillusionment Charm, cast it upon himself and quietly slipped behind Michael, finally uncovering the mysterious reading material that had his dormmate acting so suspiciously.
"108 Ways for Wizards to Pursue Love."
As expected.
After class, Michael truly wasn't dedicating his time to academic pursuits.
"That book won't help you win over anyone." Satisfied with his curiosity, Ian revealed himself, whispering a warning that nearly startled Michael into leaping from his bed.
The boy's dark skin almost turned as red as a cursed Howler.
"Impossible! The author guarantees that if I don't succeed, I'll get a full refund! The last page even has his so-called ultimate secret technique!" Michael, unwilling to accept Ian's judgment, hastily flipped to the final page and scratched off the shimmering concealment charm hiding the final tip.
"Remember, for us true masters of romance, a love potion is the trump card that never fails."
Upon reading this, Michael's complexion turned a rather unfortunate shade of green.
The wonders of human physiology.
"You must have bought this rubbish from Knockturn Alley!" Ian exclaimed, glancing at the cover. Sure enough, the author had neglected to sign his name.
"Refund! I demand a refund!" Michael raged. Though he enjoyed the idea of charming romance, he clearly had no interest in anything underhanded.
"We're all friends here. If you're that desperate, I could brew one for you. If Rebecca drinks it forever, isn't that technically love?" Ian teased, darting around the dormitory as Michael, now thoroughly incensed, cursed the book's author.
Laughing to himself, Ian pulled out his suitcase from beneath his bed. He had always dreamed of carrying an entire house with him, and the Undetectable Extension Charm was his key to making that dream a reality.
"Let's see how far I can push this..."
As the night deepened and his dormmates drifted into sleep, Ian remained awake, experimenting with expanding the suitcase's internal space.
[Undetectable Extension Charm Proficiency +3]
[Undetectable Extension Charm Proficiency +4]
[Undetectable Extension Charm Proficiency +3]
…
The next morning, it seemed like any other peaceful day. However, Ian found it rather odd that his esteemed uncle had skipped two classes.
Yes.
The Professor Snape had skipped class.
Rumors swirled that Snape had fallen ill and was receiving treatment at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Other professors had temporarily taken over his potions lessons. But when Ian discreetly checked his Marauder's Map, Snape was clearly still in his Hogwarts office, having not left once.
Dumbledore was an eccentric headmaster at the best of times, and as for Snape... well, he wasn't exactly known for his unwavering sense of duty either.
Ian had even tried to visit Snape, but he was stopped at the door by Hagrid, who looked utterly exhausted with dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days.
"Uncle! What happened to you?"
Ian wanted to express genuine concern for Snape, perhaps he really had caught some kind of magical affliction. He certainly didn't look like his usual, formidable self.
"Mind your own business! Prince! Your Charms class starts in fifteen minutes!"
Snape, as ungrateful as ever, simply shooed Ian away without the slightest hint of appreciation for his concern.
He even shot Ian a particularly irritable look, as if on the verge of snapping at him but ultimately restraining himself. Just as Ian turned to leave for Charms, Snape suddenly reached out and yanked a few strands of his hair. The amount was less than before, but his technique was becoming noticeably more refined.
"Are you quite finished?!" Ian clutched his head, glaring at Snape with an expression of sheer indignation.
Snape merely sneered at him before slamming the office door shut.
This little episode left Ian in a sour mood, being tricked by Snape yet again was hardly something to celebrate. Aurora had tried to console him with, "Well, you've got more hair than me; he can't possibly pull it all out." It was some comfort, at least.
Of course, Ian wasn't one to hold grudges.
No, he had already made up his mind, when Snape eventually kicked the cauldron, he would march straight into the afterlife, hunt him down, and enlist his friends to yank out every last strand of his hair. If, as Professor Morgan claimed, the soul could be reborn, Ian would make certain his dear uncle came back as a bald man in his next life.
The next two days leading up to Halloween were nothing short of productive. Ian attended classes as usual during the day, then spent hours immersed in the Room of Requirement, occasionally exchanging thoughts with the Dementor.
His evenings were dedicated to tutoring younger students, and any spare time was devoted to expanding the enchanted space inside his suitcase.
A mere flat's worth of space clearly wasn't enough to satisfy his ambitions, he dreamed of raising thousands of magical creatures within, ensuring he could eat whatever he fancied whenever he traveled.
"Of course, the cute ones won't be eaten, the obedient ones won't be eaten… but the nasty, unruly ones? They are fair game."
For two days, Ian buried himself in his studies, skipping even the Quidditch tryouts.
The sport was undoubtedly a wizarding favorite, but Ian had little patience for it. Competition was fine, but not when an entire match's outcome depended on a single player.
The Seeker's role was simply too dominant, rendering the team's efforts meaningless with one well-timed catch.
If the role of the Seeker were weakened, perhaps the game would be more balanced and, in turn, more appealing.
When his dormmates returned from the tryouts, chattering excitedly about the match, Ian had been deep in study, though he had absentmindedly yanked out a few strands of his own hair while pondering a particularly tricky problem.
"Oh, you have no idea what you missed!" William practically bounced into the dormitory. "Gryffindor was on the verge of losing when some Slytherin shouted, 'Ian's behind you!'"
"At the crucial moment, Marcus Flint, who had been dominating the match, suddenly freaked out and fell off his broom," Michael added with a wicked grin. "The bloke was so scared of you that even after breaking his arm, he was still looking around in a panic!"
"Yeah, poor Marcus Flint was completely wrecked," William chimed in. "He was sent straight to the hospital wing. You should've seen his face!"
Their enthusiastic retelling made Ian pause. He had no real interest in terrifying people, but the idea that his reputation alone had caused Flint to fall was intriguing.
According to his two dramatic roommates, Flint had twisted his head a full 180 degrees while falling.
Ian snorted. "Oh, come on. What are you saying, that Flint's an owl now?"
"Quick, let's go! We can't be late! That professor is terrifying!"
Afternoon classes meant Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Though students were still wary of Gilderoy Grindelwald (as the more mischievous ones had nicknamed him), he had proven to be a competent professor, an astonishing feat, given Hogwarts' usual track record with the position.
"At least he's better than the professor who got gored to death by a wild boar before school even started!"
"Yeah, the one who was murdered before term began can't exactly be considered a success!"
"Of course! He's Gilderoy Lockhart! The perfect man! He's definitely going to be old by the time I grow up, but that's fine, I'll just have a daughter and she'll marry him!"
...
One must admit that Gilderoy Grindelwald's disguise is truly remarkable.
Except when speaking with Ian, he never lets his façade slip. The Lockhart persona he presents is so meticulously crafted that even the professors remain entirely unsuspecting.
Although he is somewhat less arrogant and self-absorbed than the real Gilderoy Lockhart, most assume that the famous author is simply not as flamboyant as the rumors suggest. In fact, this restraint has even led Professor McGonagall and the other staff to develop a much more favorable impression of him.
"Today, we will be studying the Centaur, this so-called 'noble' creature," Gilderoy Grindelwald announced at the start of his lesson, his tone making Ian feel the underlying cruelty of his true intentions.
Standing at the front of the class was a towering Centaur, but its eyes were vacant, its entire body unnaturally still. It had clearly fallen under the Imperius Curse, utterly at Grindelwald's mercy.
And this was only the beginning.
(To Be Continued…)
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