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The night has not yet fallen which ans that Ian still has plenty to do.
He remains blissfully unaware that the ever-calculating Dumbledore has managed to "tip two cauldrons with one wand." With the library about to close, Ian dashes towards it so fast that it feels like his robes might catch fire.
"Is soone after him?"
"No idea... Looks like he's either late for sothing or just realized he left a potion simring unattended."
"Or maybe he's had one too many Pumpkin Pasties and can't find a bathroom. Trust , never assu it's just a bit of wind. Hey, wait— weren't you the one who said you weren't heading back to the dorm tonight?"
...
A pair of seventh-year lovebirds lost their romantic mood thanks to Ian's untily sprint past them. Ian might not earn any house points for virtue, but he's certainly put a stop to an encounter that could have led to another wizard being added to the family tree.
During the day, the library is rarely overcrowded— let alone in the evening after classes. Yet despite running as if chased by a Hungarian Horntail, Ian still fails to reach it in ti.
He doesn't even catch a glimpse of Madam Pince snuffing out the lamps. All he sees is a tightly shut door and what appears to be a rather formidable new lock.
"Madam Pince must be taking an early night!"
Ian checks his watch indignantly. It's barely past closing ti— perhaps a minute or two at most.
Typical.
No competition ans no urgency!
"Ugh, I feel like hexing sothing."
Ian doesn't even get the chance to test his persuasion skills on Madam Pince. Since she's already vanished, he can only glance around suspiciously before pulling out his wand.
"Alohomora!"
Ian just wants to partake in a classic Hogwarts tradition. But to his horror, his Unlocking Charm proves utterly ineffective against the library's enchanted lock.
The oddly shaped chanism trembles ever so slightly, as if rely indulging him, before falling still. Clearly, this is no ordinary lock— it's been reinforced with advanced protective magic.
"This is completely unfair!"
Ian is scandalized.
Isn't the Unlocking Charm supposed to work on any lock?!
Even in the original story, Hermione Granger— a first-year at the ti— managed to unseal the entrance to the trapdoor guarding the Philosopher's Stone!
"Am I really worse at this than Hermione?"
Ian tries several more tis, but the library's door remains as immovable as the gates of Azkaban. After a while, the lock doesn't even twitch anymore, as though it has grown tired of humoring him.
Ian can't shake the humiliating feeling that the lock is outright ignoring him now.
"Just wait until I awaken my hidden talents!"
He gives the lock a disgruntled prod with his wand before turning away, fuming. The corridor is eerily silent— except for a faint presence lurking just out of sight.
Sothing peeks out from behind the corner.
Upon realizing that the wandering figure is Ian, it imdiately attempts to vanish into the stone wall— only to be unceremoniously yanked back by the ankles.
"Let go! Let go!"
Peeves shrieks.
"Aha! Caught you! You were trying to spook , weren't you?" Ian, already frustrated, isn't about to let Peeves off the hook.
"How was I supposed to know it was you, you nasty little gremlin?! I thought you were one of those Ravenclaw bookworms!" Peeves flails, attempting to bite Ian's hand but stopping just short.
"Oh-ho! Calling a gremlin, are we? Do you even know who my 'dear friend' Dumbledore is? Not only have you insulted , but you've also maligned the noble scholars of Ravenclaw!" Without a mont's hesitation, Ian launches into a full-blown Peeves-thrashing session, instantly alleviating his prior frustrations.
Feeling imnsely satisfied, he turns to leave.
"I'm telling Dumbledore! You dared to call the headmaster your pal!" Peeves, now freed, wails as he zooms away.
"Adventus Timoris!"
Ian flicks his wand, and a spectral, grayish-white light shoots forth, striking Peeves squarely on his incorporeal backside.
"No! Don't set on fire with Fiendfyre! Nick! Nick! Take your axe off my neck! Waaah! Why is everyone helping this little nace bully ?!"
Peeves tumbles to the floor, rolling about in exaggerated agony, howling like a banshee.
"I don't want to leave Hogwarts! You can't banish ! This is my ho!"
Whoever said poltergeists don't feel fear? Peeves's reaction is more dramatic than any student's.
When the spell's effect finally fades...
"If you ever try to spook again, I'll seal you inside a bottle and toss you into the Black Lake. I'm sure the giant squid would love a new toy."
Ian delivers his final warning.
"Waaah!"
Peeves no longer dares to talk back. With a final whimper, he vanishes into the wall, quivering like the very students he so often tornts.
Ian gives the wall a final, unimpressed glance before leaving, though he can't help feeling slightly disappointed that he couldn't drag Peeves out for round two.
Shrugging, he makes his way back to the Ravenclaw common room, collecting all his parchnt before setting off again.
Now, he begins wandering the castle like an aimless ghost.
There's no other choice.
The legendary Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance are rumored to be hidden in one of Hogwarts' highest towers. If he wants to reach them later tonight, he needs to familiarize himself with the castle's layout now.
"Please don't let there be another lock I can't open..." he mutters to himself.
At least he finds so comfort in stopping by the Hogwarts kitchens for a late-night bite. The house-elves honey-glazed steak, he must admit, is nothing short of magical.
It's actually quite good.
He leaves the kitchen with two sour lemons, evolving from drinking lemon juice to biting into lemons like apples. The sharp tang is a refreshingly unique sensation.
"I'm hooked!"
As the night grows quieter.
Avoiding the ever-watchful magical portraits and the suits of armor that might possess so "surveillance" enchantnts, Ian sneaks into the broomstick storage room.
"Thank you, Madam Hooch, for teaching how to fly. She only said we're not allowed to take off during her class, which implies we can fly however we want after class."
Fortunately, not every lock in the castle is warded with high-level protective magic. At least the one on the broomstick storage room yields easily to Ian's Unlocking Charm.
Perhaps old broomsticks aren't considered as valuable as the books? Ian isn't entirely sure. He waits until the last light in Snape's office flickers out before he takes off into the night sky.
The earlier Flying lesson finally proves useful. Ian realizes he's quite adept at flying and can keenly sense which areas of the castle are more likely to be noticed by patrolling staff or prefects.
Twisting and turning.
Soaring and pausing.
Although Hogwarts Castle is vast, there are only so many towers with rooftops. Ian doesn't even have to search the entire school before he finds what he's looking for.
"This is it!"
Through a dusty window, Ian spots the objects he's been searching for inside an unassuming room. A solitary desk sits in the middle, bearing an ancient to bound in black dragonhide.
It lies undisturbed, untouched by dust. Beside it, a delicate bottle of shimring silver ink and a slightly faded quill rest on the desk.
The Book of Admittance.
The Quill of Acceptance.
This is Hogwarts' enchanted admissions office, untouched by students and requiring no human intervention to function.
(To Be Continued…)
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