The threshold between the present and an uncertain future.
As ti moved forward, Ian found himself in the headmaster's office, conversing with Dumbledore, when Snape finally arrived. After weeks of deliberate procrastination, the Potions Master had co to report the losses incurred from the explosion in his office.
Snape glanced at Ian.
Perhaps assuming that he was simply there to study under Dumbledore, he refrained from making any snide remarks. Instead, he rely offered a curt warning— advising Ian to be wary of unseen dangers lurking within Hogwarts before taking his leave.
"What about our Alchemy professor?" Ian asked, voicing his most pressing concern. He had noticed that Arthur King's na had not appeared on his Marauder's Map for quite so ti.
"He is here, fulfilling his duties as expected," Dumbledore replied, his tone light but unreadable.
Ian frowned and quickly unfurled the Marauder's Map once more.
Still nothing.
Arthur King's na remained conspicuously absent.
"He is likely avoiding you," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "A skilled wizard can, with effort, conceal themselves from that map. It is not infallible."
"Fair enough."
Ian understood that, whoever this person was, their expertise in alchemy surely exceeded his own. Even Grindelwald had once managed to deceive the map so there was no reason a similarly talented wizard couldn't do the sa.
Setting the map aside, Ian shifted his focus to the parchnt in Dumbledore's hands, the report Snape had submitted.
"Hasn't Snape already made Quirrell pay once?" Ian murmured, leaning in to take a closer look at the absurdly high figures detailed in Snape's report.
"And yet, I doubt he has even turned over one-tenth of this amount to Hogwarts," Ian realized with growing amusent. His dear uncle had taught him an important lesson today, it seed that Snape was not only extorting Quirrell but also quietly siphoning off a share for himself.
No wonder he had delayed submitting the report for so long.
It was clear he had been cooking the books.
It seems our Professor Snape is looking to make a tidy profit from this." Albus Dumbledore appeared unfazed, knowing that the school board would ultimately bear the costs for the students' education.
To ensure their children learned the true craft, the board mbers had no choice but to grit their teeth and provide the necessary funds. Otherwise, with all the materials missing, the little wizards would learn nothing, and Snape would enjoy a paid vacation— Dumbledore would turn a blind eye even if Ian didn't reset the loop.
Snape was getting rich.
The other professors at Hogwarts wouldn't lack for potions either.
Wasn't this a win-win situation for everyone?
"Too bad my good uncle no longer keeps his materials in the office; I've searched all over Hogwarts and can't find where he hides his stash!"
Ian glanced at the hundreds of potions in his enchanted pouch, feeling a bit regretful.
"You've been getting into too much trouble." Albus Dumbledore stood in front of a Pensieve, extracting his mories and placing them inside.
"Isn't this what you asked for?" Ian blinked, watching Dumbledore store his mories before he lifted the entire Pensieve and handed it to him.
"It doesn't have to be this... chaotic." Albus Dumbledore's expression twitched as he recalled the events of the past few days, not just as a demolition expert.
Ian had even found excuses to give the Slytherin House troublemakers a good thrashing, seemingly venting all his frustrations regarding Salazar Slytherin on the students of that house.
Even during class, if those spoiled Slytherin students entered the classroom with their left foot first, this little wizard would seize the opportunity to deliver a hex, claiming it was disrespectful to the professor and classmates.
No matter the age or year, Slytherin students were too afraid to retaliate or draw their wands, as they knew that if they did, Ian would certainly draw his wand too.
At that point, it wouldn't just be a matter of taking a hex; they understood the stakes involved.
"I didn't go after the well-behaved students; I only targeted the troublemakers. You must admit, they are much kinder to other houses' students and their classmates now." Ian defended his righteous actions, portraying himself as Hogwarts' Batman rather than a nace.
"I cannot deny that." Albus Dumbledore nodded, watching Ian put the Pensieve into his enchanted pouch. After a mont of hesitation, he spoke up.
"At this ti, may I have the honor of... guiding you on the Patronus Charm?" It was surprising to see Dumbledore in such a sentintal mood.
Ian understood imdiately.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Silver threads began to weave.
A figure began to erge.
...
As ti began to reset.
Ian found everything around him blurring.
When all things regained their clear colors, he found himself back in the Room of Requirent, as if he had once again returned from the passage of ti.
Outside.
Silence reigned, the corridor dark, and the eccentric house-elf began asking about cleaning toilets again— Ian ignored him and dashed straight to the office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
How to seek help from the two people, they had already instructed Ian, and they had also found a way to leverage Ian's loop anomaly to buy them research ti.
The Pensieve that Dumbledore had given Ian contained many pieces of information that should not belong to this ti, and indeed, under Ian's influence, it had not reset like those potions.
Because of this.
Reconnecting with the two professors, who knew nothing, and returning to the starting point was not difficult. After all, both were seasoned individuals who had once been prominent figures.
Ian's aura, which did not belong to this tiline, was also easily detectable by them, and without any setbacks, they once again discovered the enigmatic Professor Ronnie Ehrlich in the underground chambers.
However.
The two professors advised Ian against remaining in the underground chambers for research, and in the loops that followed, this remained unchanged.
Ian had briefly considered sneaking a look at Dumbledore's Pensieve, but it was undoubtedly enchanted. Even if he were inclined to take the unethical route, he lacked the ans to do so.
"We will solve your problem— have patience," Albus Dumbledore would always say, insisting Ian cast the Patronus Charm each ti. His expression remained resolute, unwavering.
Moreover, Ian was convinced that Dumbledore had deduced far more than what was recorded in his Pensieve— such as the progress Ian made in each iteration of the loop.
What seed like re casual conversation often hinted at a profound understanding of events, as though he saw through everything. It made Ian increasingly aware of the depth of Dumbledore's intellect.
He had always known the headmaster was remarkably wise, but only now did he grasp just how terrifyingly sharp that wisdom was. He even began to suspect that, in so way, Dumbledore was following him through the loops.
The thought alone was staggering.
Otherwise, how could he so effortlessly determine which potions Ian had brewed without ever peeking inside his money bag? With just a few fragnted details, Dumbledore could reconstruct the full picture.
If not for this loop, Ian would never have realized the true extent of Dumbledore's brilliance. He understood now that the most formidable aspect of the headmaster wasn't simply his legendary magical prowess.
No— what made Albus Dumbledore truly terrifying was the coexistence of both power and wisdom.
Unfortunately, Ian was unable to participate in the research conducted by the two old wizards. Otherwise, he suspected his understanding of magic and the world itself would deepen even further. Instead, his ti was spent either studying or launching yet another raid on Snape's office.
"Boom!"
A familiar explosion shook the air as Ian burst through the door of Snape's office.
Snatching up potion ingredients.
This ti, however, the little wizard— now highly adept at such exploits left behind subtle evidence: a few strands of Quirrell's hair. Each loop, he made slight adjustnts to his thods.
Only two things remained consistent— raiding the potions stores and dealing with Quirrell.
"Damn it! Quirrell!"
There it was.
Hidden in a corner, Ian watched as Snape arrived at the scene, imdiately noticing the stray hairs on the floor. With a furious roar, he stord off toward the staffroom.
(To Be Continued…)
You can read ahead up to 110 chapters on my Patreon: spatreon/darkshadow6395
User Comments
0 comments from readers