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Dumbledore possessed a unique kind of charm, one that was not akin to the allure of a Succubus. Instead, when he erged from the depths of the Forbidden Forest, the professors felt a sense of grounding, their tension dissipating as if a heavy fog had been lifted.
The previously grim atmosphere transford in an instant. Ian experienced a sensation reminiscent of a county mayor arriving in a theatrical performance, heralding a clear and sunny day.
Could it be that Dumbledore was the source of this newfound security?
"Headmaster! Quickly! It's that... that dark wizard!" Ian felt a flicker of joy within him; when it ca to apprehending Tom, this venerable headmaster had unparalleled experience.
With Dumbledore back in the fold, capturing Voldemort's remnant would surely be a straightforward task. Ian couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore would permit him to incinerate Voldemort's remnant with a well-placed spell.
"There's no need to rush; I've cast a special enchantnt that will prevent anyone from escaping the grounds of Hogwarts. We can take our ti; first, I need to assess the situation," Dumbledore said, his gaze deep and contemplative, exuding an air of calm.
Yet, Ian felt a twinge of confusion.
'Such magic exists? How co I didn't know about it?'
Several professors appeared equally perplexed, having stumbled upon a gap in their knowledge. But since it was Dumbledore who assured them, they instinctively chose to trust him.
"Who can shed light on this situation?" Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Professor McGonagall as he asked.
"To be honest, the other professors and I are not well-inford either; we just arrived here, drawn by the commotion caused by Mr. Prince," McGonagall replied, glancing at Ian, who was still suspended in mid-air by Professor Sprout's Levitation Charm.
"Dumbledore, he... he showed us his mory; he encountered the one who cannot be nad, You-Know-Who!" Professor Sprout's expression was one of disbelief. Professor Flitwick, perched on his "customized mini" broomstick beside her, looked equally worried and shaken.
Compared to McGonagall, the deputy headmistress, these two Heads of House clearly lacked sufficient knowledge of the historical truth; they had always believed, like everyone else, that Voldemort had perished a decade ago on that fateful night.
"How could it be You-Know-Who? How could he still be alive? He should have died, vanquished by the mysterious magic bestowed upon the Boy Who Lived..." Professor Flitwick struggled to accept that Ian might be fabricating mories, even as he hoped that Ian's recollection was not the truth.
This internal conflict left the small professor's expression quite complex.
It was Voldemort!
The wizarding world had endured Voldemort's tyranny for far too long.
After finally erging into a brighter future, who would wish to return to that era of anxiety and fear? Even the professors at Hogwarts still harbored lingering fears from the past, shrouded in dark ideology.
This was the lingering power Voldemort had left behind.
Both Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout shared similar psychological scars, which explained their flustered reactions upon witnessing Ian's mory.
"Yes, Dumbledore, Harry has defeated Voldemort; that vile creature cannot possibly still be alive!" Hagrid, too, was among those unwilling to accept the truth.
After speaking with conviction, he quickly added, "Sorry, Ian, I'm not doubting you or thinking that you're deceiving us; it's just... perhaps you misinterpreted what you saw, or maybe there are so other attention-seeking individuals masquerading as You-Know-Who."
Hagrid was grasping for a reasonable explanation.
Snape stood silently beside him, his expression dark and uncertain. He had attempted to speak several tis but seed to reconsider and ultimately refrained from comnting.
"This isn't entirely impossible, after all..." Dumbledore stroked his beard, appearing to ponder for a mont.
"Our old friend has spent his life fearing death; it wouldn't be surprising if he found a way to evade it. This isn't a particularly difficult problem to address; we should be grateful that our young wizard has narrowly escaped with his life." Dumbledore's gaze turned to Ian, who was still suspended in mid-air.
"Mr. Prince… sir, are you alright?" His voice was steady and powerful, imbued with a kind of magic that seed to soothe the heart.
"Of course." Ian shifts his body to indicate he is unhard.
He even perford a backflip in mid-air for Dumbledore— the expressions of the nearby professors were quite peculiar, and Professor McGonagall appeared to want to say sothing but hesitated.
"You should thank the professors for their tily arrival." Dumbledore could hardly bear to watch Ian's antics; Hagrid beside him was sowhat amused.
The expressions of the other three Heads of House were tinged with embarrassnt, while Snape's expression darkened further.
"Get down!"
Snape gritted his teeth and scolded Ian, and the next mont, he watched as Ian glided through the air as if swimming, effortlessly maneuvering behind several other professors.
"????"
Professor Sprout, who was maintaining the Levitation Charm on Ian, widened her eyes in confusion; she couldn't comprehend why Ian seed to control the direction of the charm she had cast.
The magic was hers!
Why did it feel as if it had beco soone else's?
"Dumbledore, I believe Mr. Prince doesn't require our rescue, for when we arrived, he was pursuing that... unntionable You-Know-Who," Professor Flitwick hesitated but ultimately corrected Dumbledore's statent.
His small flying broom looked particularly comical. In truth, Professor Flitwick could ride a standard broom, but his customized broom was better suited for aerial combat. Who would have thought there would be no battle, and the young wizards had already saved them the trouble of fighting?
"I think... using the term 'pursuing' might be more fitting?" Professor Sprout surveyed the area, her heart pained by the sight of the damaged precious plants.
"Mm?"
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly.
Hagrid, who had been comforting Fang, also widened his eyes upon hearing Professor Flitwick's words, his mouth agape in shock.
"Hiss! Ian, what have you done!"
His booming voice was filled with astonishnt.
To this half-giant caretaker, Ian's accomplishnts were simply unfathomable; the level of magic was likely second only to that of Harry Potter, the boy he had always been concerned about.
"I was protecting our school, Hagrid." Ian seed to be explaining his actions to Hagrid, but in truth, he wanted Snape to understand that he was not seeking trouble.
He cast a subtle glance at Snape, but the Potions Master's dark expression did not lighten; instead, it deepened—indeed, Ian had the potential to beco a Dark Lord.
"Is that so?" Dumbledore's gaze flickered slightly as he sought confirmation from Professor McGonagall.
"Yes, Dumbledore, it seems that this is indeed as absurd as it sounds; this young wizard actually knows how to wield Fiendfyre. I suspect You-Know-Who did not anticipate this," McGonagall sighed helplessly, pulling Ian, who was hiding behind her, to the forefront. Her emotions were a mix of fear and regret that this little wizard was not a Gryffindor.
"Mr. Prince, your magic is remarkably powerful, and your transformation is quite impressive, but I must insist you tell where you learned such dangerous magic as Fiendfyre."
McGonagall's tone was stern, carrying an unusually serious weight, yet the way she looked at Ian mirrored how he had explained himself to Hagrid earlier. This Head of Gryffindor's expression was directed at Ian, but her gaze subtly shifted towards Snape, who stood nearby.
In her view, Ian's ability to conjure Fiendfyre must be linked to Snape, and the other two Heads of House likely thought the sa, so all three of them turned their attention to Snape.
"..."
The Hogwarts Potions Master looked utterly speechless.
His face twitched slightly, and his hands clenched together, but even with the veins on his temple throbbing, he rely turned his gaze elsewhere.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Snape ultimately chose not to explain anything. As he watched his good uncle take the bla, Ian naturally refrained from offering any explanations, instead finding a way to justify his use of Fiendfyre.
"Professor McGonagall, thank you for your kind words; I believe this is also due to the Headmaster's guidance, as he has been instruntal in my training with Fiendfyre," Ian responded, appearing humble. This was indeed the truth, as it had happened before, so after he finished speaking, he shot a cheeky grin at Dumbledore.
"No wonder... no wonder your Fiendfyre is so controlled," Professor Flitwick exclaid as if struck by a sudden revelation. It seed he finally understood where Ian had acquired such advanced magic.
First, the Patronus Charm.
Now, Fiendfyre!
(To Be Continued…)
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