"Disappeared, just like last ti, I’ve lost contact with two Soul Artifacts again."
Amidst the sound of rain, there was a deep rumble.
A dark soul clung to the living, roaring angrily in the storm, its malicious gaze fixated on the distant castle. Its voice, full of resentnt, echoed through the rain-washed Forbidden Forest.
"Dumbledore! Are you forcing my hand?"
Holy blood.
Flowed into its mouth.
"As you wish then! Let the battle begin!"
The struggling soul seed to have made a firm decision.
...
The sun rose from the east.
Just as Ian wished, the storm lasted all night and continued into the morning. Countless little wizards who longed to fly were forced to attend the indoor Flying Class theory lessons.
Since everyone began to get up, Ian saw many dejected little wizards. Their interest in handling a Flying Broom was almost equivalent to Muggle students’ eagerness for gym class. Of course, for the older Muggle students, the interest should be likened to computer class.
The rain was not only beating against the eaves and windows but also against the hearts of little wizards who yearned to spin in the sky. Only Ian seed to be an exception, overjoyed by it all.
"Oh, my god! This damn weather! It really doesn’t do us any favors!" Of course, on the surface, Ian skillfully blended into the complaining crowd of little wizards.
To this day, no one discovered that he taught the Bronze Eagle those complex questions, all thanks to Ian’s exceptional acting skills that kept him hidden among the masses.
The task of catching the "evil instigator" was even entrusted to their Young Professor by the little wizards, indicating how well Ian blended into the crowd.
This may ultimately beco an unsolved mystery, an indelible "stain" on Ian’s personal abilities during his student life, sothing he would later regret bitterly when writing his autobiography, criticizing the school for hiding a pervert that even his skills couldn’t find.
"Why doesn’t Madam Hooch teach us how to fly in the rain? I think that would be practical knowledge." A Ravenclaw little wizard was already warming by the fireplace early in the morning.
Though everyone sealed the doors and windows at night and stuffed the twins’ dreadful [Pocket Fire] into their blankets, the little thing could only provide a bit of warmth.
It couldn’t solve the problem of little wizards waking up with cold hands and feet.
"I suppose she’s afraid of us getting struck by lightning, which is quite dangerous." William was sowhat different. When he walked out of the dormitory, his face even had a rosy glow.
Even if it were a snowstorm, this guy probably wouldn’t feel cold at night, as he was the only one in the whole school who used the heated underwear Ian couldn’t sell as a heated blanket.
The rosy cheeks were because while he slept, he covered his head with it. Comfortable and warm, as he said, it also prevented drooling at night.
"All we need to do is fly faster than the lightning, right?" The Chocolate Frog boy was munching on a Chocolate Frog, having contributed dozens of boxes of Chocolate Frog sets to Ian.
Who knows how many more boxes this guy could pull out of his dorm room.
"You are such an idiot." Michael swallowed his saliva in craving, speaking critically, "How could we wizards possibly fly faster than lightning? Haven’t you been asked by a door knocker about the speed of lightning? Even the fastest Flying Broom in the world doesn’t reach that speed!"
"I say, when flying outdoors in the rain, we should attach a lightning rod, invented by Muggles, on our heads." Michael confidently gave his flying suggestion.
Ian, who was pondering the Resurrection Stone issue, couldn’t resist looking back at Hogwarts’ true God of Death, and surprisingly, several children from pure-blood families nodded thoughtfully!
"I don’t think that’s how a lightning rod is used..." Thankfully, a little wizard from a Muggle family stood up to refute him, only then did Ian withdraw his gaze from Michael.
He was sorting through books he had retrieved from the common room’s bookshelf the previous night. There wasn’t much useful information, and he couldn’t quite make sense of the alchemy pen on the Slytherin Pendant Box.
Unlike the generous Hufflepuff and the teaching-savvy Ravenclaw, Ian saw nothing but ostentatious display in Slytherin’s creations, filled to the brim with profundity.
"Huh? Isn’t a lightning rod used to avoid lightning?" Michael’s knowledge of the Muggle World wasn’t deep, a common issue among those from wizarding families.
It’s the result of the Wizarding World’s seclusion. If it weren’t for the Bronze Gate knocker’s questions on physics and mathematics, they probably wouldn’t even know lightning travels hundreds of thousands of ters per second.
"Of course, my dad is an architect. He only installs lightning rods on top of tall buildings." The child from a Muggle background displayed his authoritative lineage.
Then,
He continued with a suggestion, "So, according to my dad’s usage, we should install lightning rods on our Flying Brooms."
"Look, this spot at the back is just right for fixing a lightning rod." This first-year little wizard even started drawing a diagram for other little wizards on the spot.
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