Madam Pomfrey rushed over to administer ergency treatnt, while Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and others were fending off Ashwinders attacking from all directions.
For them, Ashwinders were not the most formidable of magical creatures.
However, the sheer number of them flooding the Great Hall was overwhelming. It felt as though they were being directed by so unseen force, all converging in a relentless effort to breach Hogwarts' defenses.
Like a swarm.
An individual Ashwinder might be a fleeting nuisance, but en masse, they posed a grave threat even to the strongest of wizards. Ian's eyes reflected the thousands of serpentine creatures slithering toward them from every direction, endlessly.
"Soone is controlling these Ashwinders!" Professor McGonagall declared, her expression steely as she commanded dozens of enchanted suits of armor to join the battle. The armors clanked into motion, wielding their swords with remarkable skill— a testant to McGonagall's command over Transfiguration.
After all, she was a Gryffindor through and through.
"Students, inside! Now!" She ordered. "We're sealing the doors! Older students, assist the professors— find the source of this infestation!"
Professor Flitwick flicked his wand, sending a flurry of icy spells down the Ravenclaw corridor. Several exhausted upper-year students, overwheld by Ashwinders, were frozen into protective ice statues on the spot.
"Move quickly!"
The two Prefects led the younger students into the Great Hall, comforting the frightened first-years before joining the older students at the entrance to assist the professors.
"Are we going to die here?"
Cho Chang's voice trembled as she watched the Ashwinders pour into the castle, their glowing embers leaving scorched trails in the stone floor.
"Don't worry, the professors aren't even using their full strength yet." Ian knew well that they were holding back, avoiding spells that could cause irreparable damage to the castle.
"McGonagall is searching for the source. I just hope she doesn't run into sothing worse." Cho Chang shuddered at the thought— whatever was commanding these creatures had to be incredibly powerful.
"You underestimate our Transfiguration teacher. Even our Head of House wouldn't know more about magical combat than McGonagall. There's a reason she's the one going after the source." Ian's gaze swept over the gathered students from the other three Houses. He frowned— his closest Slytherin friend was nowhere to be seen.
"Don't bother looking! Little Grindelwald isn't here!"
A voice, sharp with irritation, rang in his ears— close yet distant. Ian turned quickly, his eyes landing on a stretcher hidden behind the staff's high table in the Great Hall.
Snape lay there, wrapped in bandages.
His eyes were closed.
He looked… lifeless.
"Uncle Snape!" Ian's stomach twisted in alarm. He had expected to see Snape in the thick of battle at the entrance— but he had already been brought inside, wounded.
That couldn't be right.
Snape was one of the most formidable wizards at Hogwarts. How had this happened?
"rlin's beard! Uncle! What happened to you?!" Ian lunged forward, but the mont he neared Snape, sothing felt off.
Snape was far too aware.
As Ian approached, a pair of piercing black eyes snapped open, filled with cold disdain.
"Call Professor Snape!" His voice was quiet but sharp, brimming with indignation— far too lively for soone supposedly incapacitated.
Given his injuries, shouldn't he at least be unconscious?
"Alright, Professor Snape. What happened?" Ian took another step closer and caught the distinct scent of herbs—but not the kind used for healing wounds.
It slled more like stale potion ingredients, long past their pri.
"I assud your first question would be about Miss Grindelwald's whereabouts." Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm as he regarded Ian with a critical eye.
Finding no visible injuries on the boy, Snape huffed and shut his eyes again.
"Did soone take her?" Ian guessed.
Snape didn't answer directly. Instead, he gave a short, irritated grunt and lazily pointed a single bandaged finger toward the cluster of Slytherin students.
"I am… indisposed. Keep an eye on that one. Report his actions to ."
Ian followed Snape's gesture, spotting a tall, wiry seventh-year Slytherin lingering near the back of the crowd, his sharp gaze darting around suspiciously.
He looked like he was up to sothing.
"Who is that? And where's Marcus? And why haven't I seen Dumbledore?" Ian's mind raced— there was still the matter of whoever had set him up, and he had yet to find out how Dumbledore factored into all this.
Whether Ian could improve his standing in this chaos depended entirely on how Dumbledore viewed his younger sister.
"Dumbledore took Marcus Flint away. No one knows where. I am currently following his orders and pretending to be incapacitated."
Snape's lips barely moved, yet his words were as clear as if they had been whispered directly into Ian's ear.
Ian frowned. Snape was selling the act far too well— though they were hidden behind the staff's high table, no one was even paying attention to the Potions Master. Everyone's focus remained on the battle raging at the entrance.
"Why do I need to watch this person?" Ian hesitated, nearly locking eyes with the suspicious seventh-year before quickly throwing himself onto Snape, feigning distress.
"Ahhh, Uncle! You're still breathing! I thought you were gone!"
Snape scoffed and shoved him off, clearly unimpressed. "That is Foleyson Carrow. Seventh-year. Top of his class. About to graduate. And if I'm not mistaken, he will likely be spending the rest of his life repenting in Azkaban."
Ian's breath caught.
Snape clearly knew sothing and judging by the cold look in his eyes, Carrow was almost certainly behind the Ashwinder attack.
It was hardly a surprise.
"The Sacred Twenty-Eight." Ian pouted.
"Keep an eye on him and tell what he's up to," Snape instructed, still maintaining his 'lifeless' position.
"Can't you offer so incentive?" Ian muttered.
"You're protecting your own school!" Snape shot back irritably. Ian wanted to ask more questions, but Snape clearly had no interest in continuing the conversation.
"Hiss, you've put in a difficult position. Well, I am good friends with Hogwarts, and I must protect it." Ian crawled out from under the teacher's desk.
He jogged back to the center of the Great Hall, where a large crowd had gathered.
"Ian, is Snape really dead? I heard his head fell off!"
So younger students were whispering about the Potions Master's supposed demise. Clearly, Gryffindors could persistently spread rumors about Snape no matter the circumstances.
"He should still be alive, right?"
Ian glanced toward Snape's resting place and then, as per Snape's instructions, kept a close watch on seventh-year student Foleyson Carrow.
The boy seed restless, clenching his fists but making no effort to help the older students, rely pacing back and forth hesitantly within the Great Hall.
"Is he still alive even with his head gone?"
The younger students gasped in shock.
"..."
Ian was starting to lose patience.
"Professor Snape's Potions class isn't as good as yours; maybe you could be our new Potions professor." A younger student, who had once attended Ian's tutoring sessions, was daydreaming.
First-years.
They certainly had vivid imaginations.
"Stop that nonsense! Professor Snape holds grudges; if I call him 'uncle' a few more tis, he'll make my life miserable." Ian, however, remained distracted, his gaze fixed on the Slytherin side.
At that mont, he noticed Foleyson Carrow make a decision— silently heading toward a sealed side door. He muttered an incantation, slipping through the enchanted barrier as though it wasn't even there.
"Pure-blood families really do have deep roots! That magic isn't in any textbook!" Ian quickly followed, using an Unlocking Charm to squeeze out through a nearby sealed window.
Outside, the Ashwinders were sparse.
It seed most of them had gathered at the main entrance of the Great Hall.
"Where is he?"
That wasn't Ian's thought— it was Snape, who, after lying still for so long, had finally attempted to peek at the unfolding events. He just so happened to see Ian disappearing through the window.
Ian quickly sealed it behind him.
"Damn it, You Fool! I told you to keep an eye on him!"
Snape sat up in shock as if he had suddenly co back to life.
A chorus of gasps erupted in the Great Hall. "rlin's beard! It's a dical miracle!"
"Snape's turned into a ghost!"
Other voices joined the commotion.
...
(To Be Continued…)
You can read ahead up to 60 chapters on my Patreon: spatreon/darkshadow6395
User Comments
0 comments from readers