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Ian was perplexed. Of course, his imdiate concern wasn't figuring out why Penelope looked so smug, but rather how to teach the younger students the Impedint Jinx without any mishaps.
"So, I need to show them the path..." Ian mused over Penelope's earlier words, recalling his own experiences studying magic on the Isle of Twilight.
"Perhaps I can try this."
Raising his wand, Ian pointed it toward the crackling fire in the common room's hearth. As the flas leapt and twisted, he guided them outward, shaping vivid images before the astonished young witches and wizards.
Like a living tapestry woven from fire.
The flas flowed.
They depicted Ian's entire understanding of the Impedint Jinx. While his mastery of the spell wasn't particularly advanced, it was enough to illuminate the path for his students.
This was a fleeting "book of fire," a teaching thod not unlike those employed by the Hogwarts founders—sothing instinctively tailored to the needs of young minds.
"Such beautiful flas!"
"It's moving... this rhythm... I think I understand!"
"What do you understand? Tell , quickly! I need to know!"
One by one, the young witches and wizards were enchanted, slowly grasping the spell's essence—learning in a way they had never imagined possible.
"Can magic really be taught like this?"
Penelope and several older students were speechless.
For them, the experience was even more profound.
The flas, imbued with Ian's will and understanding, seed to transcend re fire, revealing the universal truth of magic— the force that binds all things, existing beyond the limits of re material reality.
The swirling embers.
At this mont.
They were not rely flas.
They were also the key to mastering the Impedint Jinx.
"I believe it."
The Ravenclaw Prefect, Dietrich, stood beside Penelope, watching the younger students huddled around Ian in awe. His voice carried an undeniable weight of emotion.
"Believe what?" Penelope turned, curious. Could soone else have made the sa deduction as her? No, surely not. She was the only one who knew the truth about Ian and Dumbledore… wasn't she?
"You haven't heard?" Dietrich's expression turned incredulous before glancing back at Ian, who was still surrounded by eager students.
"It's the only explanation that makes sense— there's a rumor going around Gryffindor that Ian is actually Dumbledore's son."
Dietrich lowered his voice, making sure no older students were eavesdropping.
Penelope's eyes widened instantly.
"What are you talking about?!"
This was absolutely not the conversation she had expected. She had been prepared to feign ignorance if anyone ntioned rlin's descendant.
But this?
This was an entirely different kind of scandal!
"I wouldn't believe it if it were just a Gryffindor rumor, but even so Slytherins are whispering about it. They say that when a few of them went looking for Professor Snape, they stumbled into his office unannounced and found him absolutely livid."
"The whole room reeked of sothing foul, and Snape was hunched over a cauldron, stirring furiously. He didn't even acknowledge them, just kept muttering under his breath—"
"That Dumbledore was a two-faced, self-righteous coward… a hypocrite…"
"Apparently, Snape had just discovered Ian's true parentage. And he was furious— furious that Dumbledore had kept a secret affair hidden, furious that Ian might be the son of so forgotten mber of the Prince family."
"He cursed for ages. It was ugly. And Slytherins are pretty good at sniffing out the truth." Dietrich glanced around nervously, as though fearing he might be overheard.
After saying this,
He clasped his hands together in mock prayer.
It was unclear whether he was asking for Dumbledore's forgiveness for repeating Snape's words—or hoping that rlin himself would protect him from the wrath of those who despised gossipmongers.
"Sigh..."
Penelope gasped in shock. She ntally replayed everything she knew. If Ian Prince were to change his last na to Ian Dumbledore...
Hmm?
It seed plausible. His extraordinary talent, Dumbledore's attitude, and the attention given to him by various professors all ford a very reasonable explanation.
Penelope was gradually beginning to piece everything together.
She stroked her chin, transforming into Hogwarts' very own detective.
"Not bad! This is truly wonderful!"
Ian, however, was completely unaware that he had already gained a third surna in the senior's imagination. At the mont, he was simply delighted that all the little wizards in his class had successfully learned the Impedint Jinx.
Seeing his own growing proficiency, Ian turned to encourage the remaining few struggling students by discussing the practical applications of the jinx.
"When being pursued by magical creatures, this spell can buy us so ti," Ian explained, describing possible scenarios in which the Impedint Jinx could be useful.
Among the gathered students, William, who had co to join the class, raised his hand— he was a typical underdog, and his paynt to Ian for these lessons was to help him complete all his class assignnts.
That was certainly a hard bargain for Ian to refuse.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Smith?" Ian tried to maintain a formal tone, acting as though he and William weren't familiar, despite everyone knowing he was practically his shadow.
This was, at the very least, a way to avoid suspicion.
"Don't I just need to run faster than everyone else?" Sure enough, William had a certain survival instinct—perhaps there was a reason his family had managed to stay intact all these years.
"Uh... that's not entirely incorrect," Ian admitted, though he privately thought William might be more suited for the darker corners of wizarding society. It seed like such traditions ran deep.
At that mont, Michael also raised his hand.
"I have a better idea!"
His dark face was alight with excitent, and in the firelight, his grin glead brilliantly, his teeth standing out even more than those of the fair-skinned students around him.
Perhaps, whether wizard or Muggle, there was always a secret to dazzlingly white teeth.
"Everyone knows how much we hate Snape mocking us. What if we conjured up a Snape to taunt our enemies instead? Maybe they'd focus their firepower on the Snape we created! After all, most wizards in Britain graduated from Hogwarts!"
A truly inspired idea—of course, the priority would always be to attack the one who mocked. Michael, as ever, had a unique perspective that even left Ian montarily in awe.
"Brilliant! You really are a genius!" Ian led the applause enthusiastically. He didn't actually believe that simply conjuring a Snape would be enough to distract an enemy. But what if a spectral Tom Riddle stepped out from the shadows? Or a noseless Voldemort cackling madly?
Who wouldn't be unsettled by such a sight?
There was definitely potential in this concept.
"Professor Ian, since you just called Michael a genius, why can't Ravenclaw get a point for it?" A younger student piped up, eager to join in the fun.
Their thoughts were simple— gathering together like this brought them joy. Perhaps, years later, when they looked back, they would all rember this night with fondness.
"Alright, alright! Ravenclaw gets a point!" Ian laughed, feeling pleased. After all, everyone had learned the Impedint Jinx, and he truly felt a sense of accomplishnt.
Hearing Ian jokingly award house points, the group burst into cheers. The atmosphere was bright, a true gathering of knowledge seekers.
It had started with a bit of selfish ambition, a thirst for knowledge, and a shared sense of achievent.
It had begun quietly.
But it certainly wouldn't end that way.
Fate had led Ian to choose fire as his thod of teaching.
And thus, a spark was ignited. It would spread, grow, and embrace everything in its path, until it beca a blaze too vast to be contained. Such was the nature of history itself.
...
In the entrance hall of Hogwarts.
A quiet night.
A soft chi rang out from the great hourglass where the bronze eagle perched, as a single pearl drifted down from the top to the bottom, unnoticed by anyone.
Ravenclaw had gained a point.
(End of this chapter)
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