Hogwarts: Stealing Harry's Love Luck
Also called succubus system at Hogwarts
Chapter 70 The Truth in Front of the Mirror of Erised
"Even many people called great Wizards don't necessarily know how to use their brains. If they choose wrong, they'll just be trapped here for the rest of their lives."
Cassandra stood beside Hermione and read out the last sentence on the parchment.
Harry frowned, "Then can't we find a way to leave either?"
"Of course there's a way!"
The two little Witches spoke almost simultaneously, their voices colliding.
Hermione pointed to the parchment on the table, "The answer is right on it. There are seven bottles here in total, three of poison and two of nettle wine. One of them can let us pass through the black flames to continue forward, and the remaining one can take us through the purple flames to return from here."
Ron grabbed his hair, his face scrunched up almost into a ball, "There are so many bottles, we can't possibly try them one by one, right? How on earth do we figure it out?"
"Give me a moment."
Hermione looked down at the paper, repeatedly murmuring the clues on it. Soon, she reached out and picked up the bottle on the right.
"All poisons are to the left of the nettle wine. In other words, this one on the far right is definitely not wine. The bottle that can pass through the black flames can't contain poison either, so it can be ruled out as well..."
Speaking of this, she put the bottle down again, walked around the table, circle after circle, still chanting under her breath.
"Neither the largest nor the smallest bottles can be chosen. Although the second bottle on the left and the second bottle on the right have different appearances, their taste is the same..."
Cassandra also picked up the smallest bottle, her brows slightly furrowed, clearly having kept up with Hermione's train of thought.
The next moment, both of them raised their heads at the same time.
"I know!"
The simultaneous shouts rang out again. They looked at each other, couldn't help laughing, and then each picked up the Potion they had deduced.
Hermione lifted the third bottle from the left, "This is it! It can let us pass through the black flames and continue forward to get the Philosopher's Stone."
Cassandra picked up the first bottle on the right, "This bottle can pass through the purple flames and take us away."
Ron was still a bit worried, "Are you really sure?"
"Sure!"
The two girls answered neatly once more.
Ian reached out to take the two Potions, stuffed the one that could let them leave into Hermione's hand, and then grabbed Cassandra's and Hermione's hands, stacking all three hands together.
"Hermione, Cassandra, you take Ron and Draco and go first. After Harry and I get the Philosopher's Stone, we'll go and rendezvous with you."
His expression was very serious, leaving no room for discussion.
Hermione shook her head stubbornly, just preparing to retort, but was cut off by Ian first, "Be obedient. If you stay here, I'll still have to divide my energy to protect you."
Cassandra let go of Ian's hand and looked straight at him, "Since we came in together, we go out together."
Hermione rarely didn't argue with her, just nodding, "Right, let's go together."
Ian looked at them, his tone still gentle, "None of you are Voldemort's match. Besides, if you stay here, at least half of my mind will be on you."
He paused slightly and continued arranging, "There are two brooms in the room with the flying keys. Draco's Quidditch skills are not bad, he can take Ron who isn't in a good state. Cassandra and Hermione will share one."
"The brooms will take you across the trapdoor, past Fluffy, straight to the owlery. Then find Hecate and Hedwig, and let them deliver the letter to Professor Dumbledore. We need him to rescue us..."
Speaking of this, Ian took a deep breath, his gaze falling on the two girls' faces.
"Trust me. No matter whether Voldemort or anyone else is waiting inside for the Philosopher's Stone, I can temporarily stall them."
Harry also raised a hand to point at the lightning scar on his forehead, "That's right. Don't worry, I escaped from Voldemort once before, and Ian didn't suffer any losses under him either. We'll definitely turn misfortune into a blessing."
Hermione opened her mouth, "But..."
Before she had time to say the rest, Cassandra grabbed her by the hand.
"Let's go."
Cassandra said cleanly and neatly, dragging Hermionetowards the purple flames.
Seeing this, Ron and Draco quickly followed. The four of them drank the Potion in Cassandra's hand, and their figures vanished into the purple flames in the blink of an eye.
Ian stood in place, withdrawing his gaze only after that patch of flames gradually went out.
"Voldemort! You bastard! Your daddy is here!"
"Let's go, Harry."
Ian picked up the Potion that could pass through the black flames and tilted his head back to gulp it down. When the Potion fell into his stomach, he first felt a wave of warmth, followed immediately by a chill sweeping across his abdomen.
The two stepped into the black flames, their bodies suffering no harm, and soon landed steadily on the other side.
The final room was already close at hand. Standing in the center of the room was a huge mirror, both its frame and surface exuding an ancient aura. That was precisely the Mirror of Erised.
Standing in front of the mirror was a man.
It was neither Snape nor Voldemort, but Quirrell wrapped in a huge purple turban.
"Professor Quirrell?" Harry stared at him in disbelief, "No, this is impossible! The real mastermind behind the scenes should be Snape..."
This answer completely exceeded his expectations. Harryhad always been convinced that Snape had a problem, and never expected that the person standing in front of the Mirror of Erised would actually be Quirrell.
"That's right, Snape really looks a lot like a bad guy." Quirrell laughed coldly.
His voice no longer had its habitual stutter; replaced instead by a low, hoarse, and icy tone.
"With someone like that around, who would ever suspect poor Professor Quirrell?"
Harry still couldn't figure it out, "But during that Quidditchmatch, it was clearly Snape who wanted to kill me."
As he spoke, he instinctively looked at Ian beside him. Iandidn't explain, only shaking his head gently at him.
"You're wrong, child." Quirrell's smile turned ferocious, "The person who truly wanted you to die is me! The crazed broom, the Troll, and the Quidditch match, I did all of them."
He raised his hand, as if recalling a very pleasant matter.
"If Snape's robes hadn't suddenly caught fire and happened to block my line of sight, you'd have been dead long ago. Even if he kept chanting counter-curses, it wouldn't have changed the outcome."
Harry muttered, "So, Snape saved me? He was chanting a counter-curse?"
Ian spread his hands, "I said long ago that Professor Snapeis not a bad guy. But you simply wouldn't believe it."
Quirrell glared viciously at them, "On Halloween, I released a Troll, originally thinking Snape would be lured away like everyone else. I didn't expect him to not fall for it at all. While everyone was busy dealing with the Troll in the basement, he went straight to the fourth floor to stop me."
"My plan completely failed because of him!"
"Ever since then, he has never trusted me again. He wouldn't allow me to stay alone." When Quirrell said this, a trace of strangeness seeped into his voice, "However, I've never been alone. Not alone..."
He slowly turned around, staring fixedly at the Mirror of Erised.
"As long as we get the Philosopher's Stone, Voldemortwill be able to rise again. By then, everyone who dares to defy him must die!"
The instant Quirrell turned around, the lightning scar on Harry's forehead suddenly began to hurt, wave after wave, as if something was burning inside it.
Ian immediately pulled Harry behind him, tightly gripping his wand at the same time, watching every move Quirrellmade without blinking.
Quirrell's emotions grew increasingly intense, "What on earth is the use of this mirror? Why did Dumbledore put it here? I've already seen my desire—I'm holding the Philosopher's Stone! But how on earth do I take it out?"
A weak and hoarse voice came from the back of his head, sounding like the hiss of a snake.
"Use the two boys. Make use of them."
Quirrell's face twisted, and he suddenly turned his head to look at Ian and Harry, "You two! Come over here! Hurry!"
"Go over there your head!"
Ian didn't talk nonsense at all, raising his hand to cast a spell right away, "Petrificus Totalus!"
Quirrell sidestepped to avoid the spell, just about to counterattack, when the voice from the back of his head rang out again.
"Don't use spells, grab the boy!"
Quirrell immediately stopped casting, lowered his body, and lunged fiercely towards Harry.
Ian's expression sank; he first pushed Harry aside and rushed straight toward Quirrell himself.
"Reducto!"
A bolt of spell light burst from the tip of his wand, charging straight at Quirrell.
"Protego!"
Quirrell raised a defensive charm, blocking the attack, but didn't take the opportunity to launch an offensive against Ian.
Harry grabbed Ian, about to run outside, but who knew Quirrell would snap his fingers, and a circle of flames immediately rose all around, sealing off their retreat.
Ian looked at that circle of fire and couldn't help clicking his tongue.
What was this supposed to be, pirated Fiendfyre? If he wanted to learn that trick of Grindelwald's, he should first see if he had the skill for it.
"Stop!" The voice from the back of the head stopped Quirrell, "Let me speak to them. Let me do it."
Quirrell hesitated, "But, Master, your current state is not good..."
"I still have a bit of strength to deal with them. Let me."
Quirrell had no choice but to slowly untie his turban.
After the turban fell, the back of his head was exposed. There was no normal person's head there, only a human face twisted in a startlingly terrifying way.
The moment Harry saw that face clearly, the scar on his forehead felt as if it had been directly burned by a flame, hurting him so much his face turned pale.
Ian clenched his wand and said in a deep voice, "Voldemort, how did you turn into a worm parasitizing someone else now?"
That face smiled coldly, "The blood of a Unicorn can prolong my life, but it cannot make me regain a physical body. However, there is still one thing that can help me achieve my wish."
His gaze fell on Ian, and he hoarsely called out his name.
"Ian Potter, you are a Slytherin student. Your performance in the Forbidden Forest was very good, and your talent is also quite outstanding, very much like me in the past."
Voldemort cajoled, "Trust me, as long as we cooperate, the entire world will submit beneath our feet."
Ian sneered, "You dare to say such words? You are now nothing more than a wisp of a remnant soul, without even a complete body. Trash."
Harry also gripped his wand tightly, looking coldly at that face, "You are the one who killed our parents. Now you still want to deceive my younger brother?"
"Harry Potter, don't you want to see your parents again?" A bizarre smile surfaced on Voldemort's face, "Help me get the Philosopher's Stone, and I can resurrect them."
"Just think about it, parents coming back to life from the dead, family reuniting once more. What a touching reunion that would be. Do you really not want to see them?"
Accompanied by his enticement, the surface of the Mirror of Erised rippled with change, gradually revealing two figures inside.
The figures of James and Lily surfaced in the mirror.
"Harry, don't believe him!" Ian pulled Harry behind him in a flash, "He has no way to resurrect dead people at all. Mum and Dad in the mirror are not the real them, it's just you wanting to see them."
Harry was stunned for a moment, then nodded forcefully, "Right! You said so, once people die they cannot be resurrected. The Professor also said that dead people cannot return to this world in any form other than ghosts."
Voldemort's expression instantly darkened.
"Potter! You two detestable Potters, you deserve to die just like your parents!"
Ian didn't give him another chance to keep talking, waving his wand successively.
"Diffindo! Reducto! Stupefy! Incendio! Expelliarmus!"
A series of spells pressed towards Voldemort, while Iangrabbed Harry to rush outward, "Run!"
Voldemort was forced back several steps, his roar shaking the room as if echoing, "Quirrell, catch them! Absolutely don't let them escape!"
Quirrell immediately gave chase.
Ian and Harry continuously dodged around the room, wanting to find a gap from the blockade formed by the flames, but those flames were too fierce, leaving no place to pass through at all.
While closing in, Voldemort continued to entice Ian, "What a powerful strength, what outstanding magic! Abandon your brother. As long as you stand on my side, we can build an even greater world!"
"Voldemort, up yours!"
Ian clenched his teeth, mobilized his magic power, and released a spell he had created himself.
"Stranglehold!"
Almost at the same time, Voldemort also raised his hand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Two spells of different colors collided in mid-air, like torrents pressing against each other, forcibly forming a convection. Seeing that Ian was about to fail to hold on, Harry seized this opportunity to fling spells consecutively towards Voldemort.
"Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!"
Voldemort's strength was ultimately far superior to theirs. With just a wave of his hand, Harry was knocked over to the ground by a force. Immediately afterwards, he increased his magic output, forcefully pressing down on Ian.
Ian could no longer sustain the confrontation, rolling away to the side, heavily crashing onto the ground, and then coughing up a mouthful of blood.
"Ian!"
Harry cried out in alarm, crawling over to his side and reaching out to help him up.
"I'm fine." Ian raised a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, staring fixedly at the getting-closer Voldemort, "Don't let your guard down."
Voldemort walked up to the brothers with a grin, reached out to grab Harry, and hoisted him up entirely.
"Harry!" Ian shouted urgently, "Hit him with your hands! Hit him right in the face!"
Harry completely didn't understand why he said that, but it was already a life-or-death moment. Out of trust in Ian, he didn't hesitate in the slightest, raising his hand to smack fiercely across Voldemort's face.
"Slap! Slap! Slap!"
Several crisp slaps landed successively on Voldemort's face.
Voldemort froze on the spot.
He never expected that he, a dignified Wizard, would actually be slapped in the face at close range, and moreover, the opponent was using the most direct physical attack.
Before he could even react, the places Harry had touched rapidly grew hot. It felt like being burned by raging fire, the skin making a sizzling sound, wisps of blue smoke rising, turning charred black in the blink of an eye.
"Ahhhh!"
Voldemort let out a shrill scream, immediately letting go of Harry, curling up as he crashed to the ground, rolling around frantically.
That sound was truly so miserable that even Ian couldn't tell whether it was Voldemort screaming or Quirrellhimself.
Harry dropped to sit on the ground, looking down at his own hands, still completely dazed, "Just now... did I hit him?"
"Don't ask, keep hitting him!"
Ian propped his body up from the ground, rushed over and stepped on Voldemort's back, grabbing his arm as he desperately tried to pull him off the back of Quirrell's head.
"Harry, don't let him escape!"
Only then did Harry snap back to his senses, immediately rushing forward to help.
The moment his hand touched Quirrell's body, Quirrell and Voldemort let out screams simultaneously. Their bodies struggled violently for a while, and then, Quirrell's entire person suddenly disintegrated, turning into large patches of black ash scattered on the ground.
Only a robe remained in place.
Harry looked at that pile of black ash, his voice trembling with excitement, "He's dead! Voldemort is dead! Ian, we've finally avenged Mum and Dad!"
By the end, his tears couldn't stop falling down.
"Dead?"
Ian didn't relax because of this, instead staring fixedly at the robe on the ground, a sense of ominousness rising in his heart.
He remembered that in the original plot, Voldemort's remnant soul seemed to still be hidden within that robe.
Sure enough, the next second, a ball of black mist formed by the remnant soul crawled out from the robe, lunging fiercely towards the two of them, and then fleeing in a panic.
Ian didn't even have time to dodge before he was knocked down by that ball of black mist.
The moment he fell, only a single thought remained in his mind.
Voldemort, you tricked me!
Chapter 71: Three Questions in the Hospital Wing
Ian Potter could be considered a regular in the Hospital Wing.
"Ian."
Hearing the voice, he turned his head to look at the neighboring bed. Sure enough, that unreliable cheap older brother was lying right there.
Ian immediately put on a concerned expression: "Harry, how do you feel?"
Harry's hands were wrapped in bandages, and his complexion didn't look too good either. He shook his head: "I'm fine. Ian, is Voldemort still alive?"
"He ran away." Ian propped himself up to sit, leaning against the pillow behind him, "However, we beat him up pretty badly, so he shouldn't have the strength to come out and cause trouble for a short time."
After hearing this, Harry's mood actually sank lower: "Is that so... But we still failed to avenge Mum and Dad."
"Don't rush, there will always be a chance." Ian raised a hand to pat his shoulder, then pursed his lips towards the surroundings of their hospital beds, "Take a look at these first. We've received quite a lot of gifts."
The colorful wrapping paper quickly caught Harry's attention. He sat up, starting to unwrap things enthusiastically, and the gloom that had originally pressed between his brows dissipated little by little.
"Hermione's, Cassandra's, and also Draco's and Ron's." Harry unwrapped a few gifts, a smile finally appearing on his face, "People from the other two Houses actually sent me things too."
He paused for a moment, lowering his head to count the gift boxes piled by the bedside, with obvious confusion in his tone: "When did I make so many friends?"
"Over on my side, there are people from all four Houses." Ian raised an eyebrow, pulling a few get-well letters written by little witches out of the letters, "It's just that girls sent even more."
Harry looked at those exquisitely papered letters that carried a faint fragrance, with a bit more envy in his tone: "Ian, you really are very popular."
Ian just smiled at this, casually picking up the next gift. After opening it, inside was a box of handmade chocolates, with the gift-giver's name written on the packaging—Miss Isabella Swan.
Harry immediately leaned over: "Chocolates? Are you and Miss Swan very close? Lots of Gryffindor boys are discussing her and Hermione, arguing about which of the two of them is prettier."
"We can't be considered that close." Ian bit into a piece of chocolate, "She's Hermione's roommate. But well, we'll probably get close in the future."
The kind of close where it couldn't get any closer.
The name Isabella Swan really sounded quite nice, but if it were changed to Isabella Potter, it sounded even more pleasing to the ear. And he didn't know if the Wizarding World practiced monogamy.
Ian chewed on the chocolate, his thoughts already drifting to the marriage laws of the Wizarding World, and even casually planning a certain distant future along the way.
"Ian! I have chocolates here too!" Harry suddenly shouted loudly, "It's from the younger of the Patil sisters! And such a big bag of candies!"
"It seems the two of you brothers harvested quite a bit this time."
A gentle voice came from beside them.
Ian turned his head, and sure enough, he saw Dumbledorewalking over.
"Professor Dumbledore." He obediently called out.
However, inside his heart, it was completely a different story.
This old bee, before he lost consciousness, he had clearly caught a glimpse of the corner of a dark red robe. Nine times out of ten, Dumbledore had used a Disillusionment Charm back then to hide nearby, watching them in secret. Presumably, this old man was also worried that tempering them too much would actually toss the two of them away.
"Good afternoon, children." Dumbledore slowly walked up to the two hospital beds, glancing at the gifts nearby, "It seems you not only have friends, but also quite a few admirers."
"Admirers?" Harry scratched his hair, looking somewhat embarrassed, "Do I have admirers too?"
"What happened between you brothers and Professor Quirrell in the fourth-floor classroom was originally considered a secret." Dumbledore smiled very gently, "Unfortunately, things like secrets have always been hard to keep all the time. Now basically the whole school knows."
Ian helplessly curled his lips: "I guess it must be those two big mouths, Draco and Ron, spreading it everywhere."
Harry nodded vigorously: "I think it's them too."
"Professor, how are Hermione and the others right now?" Ian suddenly remembered this matter and hurriedly asked.
"Rest assured, they are all very well." Dumbledore replied, "Miss Granger and Miss Vole are both very clever little witches. During this period, they have constantly been asking about your condition, and even specifically instructed that as soon as you woke up, they must be notified immediately."
Only then did Ian completely relax: "That's good."
Harry's face also regained a smile: "As long as they're fine, that's enough."
"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy are equally concerned about you." Dumbledore looked at Harry, his tone still soft, "Friends make a person's life more meaningful, don't they?"
Ian and Harry nodded together.
"Professor, what about the Philosopher's Stone?" Harrypursued the question again, "We only beat back Voldemort, but we didn't find the Philosopher's Stone at all."
"Don't worry, children, the Philosopher's Stone is very safe now." Dumbledore picked up a Chocolate Frog, as if casually mentioning past events, "Do you remember what I said before? The happiest person in the world would see themselves in the mirror."
Harry revealed a pensive expression.
Dumbledore continued speaking: "Therefore, only the kind of person who wants to obtain the Philosopher's Stone, yet will not use it to satisfy their own desires, has the possibility of taking the Philosopher's Stone out of the Mirror of Erised. The whole matter was within my arrangement, and the two of you have cooperated very well all along."
"You flatter me." Ian touched his nose, seemingly very modest on the surface.
In reality, he had indeed thought about taking the Philosopher's Stone back then. Immortality had little attraction for him, but turning stone into gold was different.
Fortunately, before Voldemort obtained the Philosopher's Stone through their hands, he made his move first. Otherwise, according to the mirror's conditions, he really wouldn't have any way to take that thing out.
"However now, the Philosopher's Stone has been completely destroyed." Dumbledore added calmly.
"Destroyed?"
Ian and Harry cried out almost simultaneously.
Ian sat up straight at once: "Professor, that is the last Philosopher's Stone in the world! If it's gone, won't Nicolas Flamel die too?"
Such a perfectly fine thing, destroyed just like that, what a terrible way to manage things! Since Nicolas Flamelcouldn't use it himself, he could completely have handed it over to him!
"I discussed it with my old friend Nicolas, and we both think this is the safest way." Dumbledore sat down by Ian's bed, blue eyes gazing at him, "He will indeed welcome death, however, the elixir in his hands is enough to support him for a period of time, until he finishes handling his own affairs."
He paused, then continued to explain: "To children of your age, this might be hard to understand. But to Nicolas and Perenelle, death is just like finally returning to bed to rest after being busy for a whole day."
"In the eyes of truly lucid people, death can also be a great adventure."
Ian still felt it was a pity: "But that is after all the last Philosopher's Stone. To destroy it directly is simply too wasteful."
Dumbledore shook his head: "Ian, the Philosopher's Stoneis not as wonderful as you imagine. As long as you possess it, wealth and lifespan are no longer problems, people can get as much as they want."
Harry asked uncomprehendingly: "Isn't this very good?"
"Quite the opposite." Dumbledore gently sighed, "Wealth and longevity are the two things humans desire most. But humans often choose those things that are most disadvantageous to themselves. Perhaps you can't fully understand yet, but please remember—to someone with a sufficiently lucid mind, death is still another great adventure."
This time, neither of the two little Wizards spoke immediately.
Dumbledore looked at their pensive appearances and hummed a little tune with a smile.
After a moment, Harry's expression turned serious again: "Professor, although the Philosopher's Stone is gone, will Voldemort come back in the future?"
Ian also spoke up: "He definitely won't just let it go like this. Professor Dumbledore, he'll think of other ways to rise again, right?"
"Yes, children." The smile on Dumbledore's face faded away, "He hasn't disappeared, he's just hiding somewhere. Perhaps right now, he is looking for a body willing to let him reside in it."
He looked at the two children, his voice dropping a few degrees: "He isn't considered truly alive, so he cannot be killed using ordinary methods. At that time he only cared about escaping, completely ignoring Quirrell's life. To his enemies, he is vicious and ruthless; to his own followers, he is the same."
Ian secretly nodded.
This lesson from the Dark Lord, he must remember it well. Against enemies, one must of course be resolute and ruthless; but towards subordinates willing to follow oneself, one must make them feel the warmth of a spring breeze.
"Professor, I have a few more questions." Harry raised his hand, his expression turning serious, "Can you tell me the truth?"
"The truth is a beautiful, yet dangerous thing, and therefore must be handled with care." Dumbledore's tone carried a sigh, "I will try my best to answer. Unless there is sufficient reason that I must keep a secret, I will not deceive you with lies. In that case, I also hope you can forgive me."
Harry raised his head: "The first question. Voldemort killed our parents back then, but he wanted to kill me and Ianright from the start. Until now, he is still hunting us down, why is this?"
Ian also tightly frowned: "I've checked materials, and I didn't get an answer from anyone either. We don't understand why he absolutely must kill us."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment, before slowly saying: "This matter, I cannot tell you for the time being. When you grow up a bit more, you will naturally understand. Is that okay?"
Ian and Harry exchanged a glance, and in the end could only nod helplessly.
"Then the second question." Harry took a deep breath, "Why couldn't Quirrell touch me? At that time Ian told me to reach out and touch Quirrell, and as a result he turned into a pile of black ash."
Hearing this, Dumbledore's gaze suddenly sharpened, landing directly on Ian. Just a moment later, that scrutiny was well hidden away by him.
Ian of course noticed it, his heart suddenly dropping a beat, but his face remained calm as if nothing had happened.
Dumbledore withdrew his gaze and began to answer Harry: "Your mother died to protect you. There is one thing Voldemort has never been able to understand, and that is love."
"He doesn't know that such deep love like Lily's will leave a mark on the person being protected. That is an ancient spell, not a scar, nor something visible to the naked eye."
Dumbledore's voice grew deep: "When a person has been loved like that, even if the person who loved them has already passed away, that power will still remain, becoming an eternal talisman. It is hidden right inside your body."
Harry unconsciously touched the lightning scar on his forehead, tears quickly welling up: "So... it was because of this."
"That's right." Dumbledore didn't urge him, just quietly looking out the window, "Quirrell, or rather Voldemort, cannot touch you because he is filled with hatred, greed, and ambition. He surrendered his soul to Voldemort, willingly becoming the other's vessel. When he touches you, the spell of love will take effect."
"Voldemort cannot endure that kind of pain, and Quirrellwill lose his life because of it."
Harry wiped away his tears, asking softly: "So, both Ian and I have a very powerful Ancient Magic inside us? Is Mum still protecting us?"
"Yes, Harry, that is love." Dumbledore answered gently, "Your mother saved you with love, and she saved Ian too."
In order to dispel Dumbledore's suspicion just now, Ianimmediately lowered his head, putting on an equally sad expression: "I know."
Dumbledore looked at him: "You know?"
"The day we returned to the ancestral home, I saw related records in the Ancient Magic parchment scrolls collected by the family." Ian's eye rims turned red, answering very smoothly, "The blood protection charm cast by Mum belongs to Ancient Magic, a sacrificial magic centered on love, and also one of the most powerful defensive arts."
"Both Harry and I have the blood protection charm on us, so I understood long ago that Voldemort couldn't touch us. Mum's love has always been protecting us, we will definitely be fine."
This explanation sounded very reasonable, and Dumbledore's expression also softened quite a bit: "I have always believed that love is the greatest magic in the world."
Ian secretly observed his reaction, finally letting out a sigh of relief in his heart.
That was close, he almost gave himself away. Good thing he went back to the ancestral home in time back then.
Facts have proven that no matter where one is, and no matter what position one stands in, being a bit cautious can never be wrong.
Harry sniffled, his hoarse voice having recovered quite a bit: "The third question, Professor. Who gave me that Invisibility Cloak?"
Ian also took the alchemical necklace off his neck: "And my necklace. Thanks to it blocking several curses from Voldemort, Professor, do you know how it came to be?"
"The Invisibility Cloak ah..." Dumbledore's expression suddenly became nostalgic, "That was handed over to me by your father. He said that if he met with an accident, to pass the cloak on to you, Harry."
He reached out to touch Ian's necklace: "As for this alchemical item, it was personally requested of me by your father. He said that the Potter family's Invisibility Cloakwould only be passed down to the eldest son of each generation, and felt that this was very unfair to you, so he asked Nicolas and me to make this necklace together."
Ian lowered his head and clenched the necklace, the silent appearance falling into Dumbledore's eyes, obviously looking like he was too moved to speak.
However, what he was truly thinking about was another matter.
Wondering if he could get the system to replicate a few more copies?
Hermione, Cassandra, and Isabella, just one for each person.
Chapter 72: Snape's Old Score and Meeting in the Hospital Wing
"Professor, there is one more thing."
Dumbledore looked at the two young Wizards, his expression still gentle: "Ask away, children."
Harry frowned, his words coming out somewhat haltingly: "Professor Snape clearly hates me so much, why has he been protecting me all this time? I just can't figure it out."
"When James and Severus were young, they truly couldn't stand the sight of each other and competed against each other plenty," Dumbledore sighed softly. "Later, James did something that Snape could never let go of."
"What was it?"
"James saved Severus's life once."
Dumbledore drew out his tone, as if he found the matter itself very interesting: "Human emotions are sometimes just that complicated, aren't they?"
Harry and Ian exchanged glances, both completely baffled.
"Snape cannot bear owing James this favor. So this year, he went to great lengths to protect you, wanting to clear this debt. Once he feels they are even, he can continue hating your father without any burden."
Towards the end, Dumbledore's tone carried a hint of helplessness.
"Yet he treats me so poorly, and treats Ian so wonderfully well," Harry grew even more confused. "Why is that?"
Ian raised a hand and rubbed his nose.
What could he do? Who told him to look more like Mother Lily.
Merlin's big socks, long live Mother Lily!
Dumbledore looked at Ian's face, which bore an extreme resemblance to Lily, hesitated for a moment, and finally spoke: "Because of Lily. She was once Severus's friend, and their relationship was quite good back then."
"What?!"
Harry and Ian froze at the same time.
Yet inwardly, Ian muttered to himself that the Professor's words were euphemistic enough.
Was that called ordinary friends? Severus was clearly Lily's simp.
However, he also understood that Dumbledore couldn't possibly expose their Potions Class Professor, Severus Snape, directly to two eleven-year-old children by revealing that he had been crazily infatuated with their mother back in the day.
"Everyone who has seen Ian says he looks a lot like Mom. I look completely like Dad when he was young," Harry said in a low voice. "So that's why Professor Snape treats us so differently?"
"Not entirely." Dumbledore raised a hand and pointed at Harry's face. "There is another place on you that looks just like Lily as well."
Following the gesture, Harry touched his own eyes.
"These green eyes." Dumbledore's voice softened, as if leafing through distant memories. "They are identical to Lily's. When Severus looks at you brothers, he is actually looking at Lily as well."
Harry's entire face stiffened: "He… he…"
Ian was quite certain that if Harry knew what kind of feelings Snape really harbored for Lily, he would probably be even more shocked.
"Alright." Dumbledore stood up and casually picked up a bag of Every-Flavoured Beans: "Any other questions? Would you like one? When I was young, I once ate a dog-dirt-flavored one."
Harry immediately shook his head: "No, Professor. I have no more questions."
But Ian curiously raised his hand: "Professor Dumbledore, how could you be sure that one tasted like dog dirt?"
Could the Headmaster have tasted it personally? Hiss, that was simply too terrifying.
Dumbledore glanced at him indifferently, staring until Ianfelt entirely uncomfortable and scratched his head again. Only then did Dumbledore withdraw his gaze and clear his throat.
"Ahem. You must know, young people always have some curiosity."
Harry: ∑ (???? )?
Ian: (? _? )?
As expected of Dumbledore. A person with this kind of curiosity could probably succeed at anything.
"Rest well, children. There is a feast tonight, and tomorrow you will be able to go home."
Facing two exceptionally complicated gazes, Dumbledoredidn't care in the slightest and walked towards the door.
"Professor Dumbledore."
He turned around, his gaze falling on Ian.
Ian looked straight into those blue eyes: "See you at the feast. This year's House Cup will still belong to Slytherin."
Dumbledore was startled for a moment, then laughed out loud: "See you tonight, children."
With that, he left the Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomfrey was a very nice person, but when it came to letting patients rest, she absolutely had no room for negotiation.
"Madam Pomfrey, just five minutes," Harry begged.
"No," Madam Pomfrey answered decisively.
Ian also wanted to see Hermione and Cassandra, and whispered to argue for himself: "But didn't you let Professor Dumbledore in just now?"
"That is the Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey answered righteously. "The two of you lie down obediently and must recuperate quietly."
"We'll just lie down, we won't do anything else," Ianblinked those green eyes, deliberately trying to act cute. "Please."
He used this trick quite skillfully. Back at the orphanage, as long as he looked at the older girls and aunties like that, most of them would agree.
Sure enough, Madam Pomfrey didn't hold out for long. She really couldn't resist a child acting spoiled, especially since Ian was so handsome and cute.
"Alright, I really can't do anything with you. But no one is allowed to move around blindly, understand?"
"Understood, Madam Pomfrey."
Therefore, before long, Harry and Ian saw Hermione and the others.
"Ian!"
Hermione and Cassandra jogged in, originally intending to rush right over, but remembering that Ian still had injuries on him, they forced themselves to stop.
Hermione sat by the bedside, took Ian's hand, her eyes filled with worry: "How are you? Is anywhere else still uncomfortable?"
Ian squeezed her hand back: "Don't worry, Hermione, I'm really fine."
"How could you be fine?" Cassandra tried hard to hold back a crying tone. "When Professor Dumbledore brought you back, your mouth and collar were covered in blood. I was worried to death."
"Cassandra, I really have no problem," Ian said as he wanted to get out of bed and walk a circle. "Look, aren't I doing just fine?"
"Ian!"
"Lie back down quickly, you're not allowed to move."
Hermione and Cassandra hurriedly pressed him back onto the bed.
Ian had no choice but to lie down obediently: "Alright, alright, alright, I won't move. Don't worry, you guys."
The three people nearby watched this scene with somewhat subtle expressions. Harry especially wanted to ask Hermione and Cassandra if they had forgotten that there was another friend here who was equally injured.
He deliberately coughed heavily twice.
Only then did Hermione and Cassandra notice him, hastily turning around to ask.
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked.
Cassandra also followed up: "Yeah, do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?"
Harry waved his hand: "I don't have any major issues."
"What on earth did you encounter after passing through that patch of black flames?" Ron asked impatiently.
Draco nodded repeatedly: "Exactly, we only heard that Professor Quirrell died, and we are completely in the dark about everything else."
"So you guys just went around spreading rumors everywhere?" Ian glanced sideways at Draco.
Draco rubbed his nose, feeling a bit awkward: "We just added a little bit of embellishment."
"Not even a ghost would believe your words," Ian glared at him.
"What actually happened in there?" Hermione timely interrupted their bickering.
Harry and Ian exchanged glances, and finally Harry told everyone everything that happened behind the black flames from start to finish.
Of course, Harry skipped over the matters between Severus and their parents.
Hearing that what was hidden under Quirrell's turban was Voldemort, several of them let out shrieks of shock.
"Look, I told you Professor Snape definitely isn't a bad person," Draco immediately grew smug. "You guys didn't believe me before."
"Cut the hindsight," Ron rolled his eyes. "Didn't you believe it yourself in the end? Snape is even your godfather."
Draco was left speechless, because what Ron said was indeed correct.
"So you two defeated Voldemort?" Hermione instantly caught onto the key point.
"You can understand it that way," Ian nodded. "However, Voldemort didn't die completely."
Harry added: "His lingering soul is still out there, only he can never again use the Philosopher's Stone to reshape his body."
"Was the Philosopher's Stone really destroyed?" Like Ian, Cassandra felt this matter was truly a pity.
"Nicolas Flamel has lived for over six hundred years, and he will also die," Hermione sighed with emotion. "Facing death is inherently a very terrifying thing."
"That's what I said too," Harry spoke as if he had found a kindred spirit. "But Professor Dumbledore feels that a truly clear-headed person regards death as a new, great adventure."
Ron curled his lip: "Sometimes I really think Dumbledore is all nutty and rambling like an old madman."
Everyone nodded in agreement. The Headmaster's train of thought was indeed incomprehensible most of the time.
"Then what about after you passed through the purple flames?" Ian asked. "What happened later?"
"After we went back, we originally wanted to rush to the Owlery immediately to contact Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, looking at Ian. "But we ran into Professor Snape in the entrance hall. He asked us if you had already reached the fourth floor."
"Then he rushed toward the fourth floor like he had gone mad," Cassandra took over the conversation. "We didn't know what was going on, so we hurriedly followed too."
Draco said: "When we arrived, Professor Dumbledore was already there. Ian, you didn't see what Professor Snapelooked like at the time; his eyes were red, and he was desperately forcing Potion down your throat."
"At that time, I even thought he was feeding you poison," Cassandra spoke faintly. "Mainly because his appearance was just too anxious."
"Snape really was very worried about Ian." Harry's expression was a bit odd.
He now felt that if Snape hadn't beaten him to death directly, it was probably truly for the sake of these green eyes.
"What happened after that?" Ian continued asking.
"Later Dumbledore let us come back first," Ron spread his hands. "And after that, Madam Pomfrey stuffed the rest of us into the Hospital Wing too."
Harry and Ian looked at each other, their eyes full of helplessness.
They really were too impulsive this time; calling them reckless wouldn't be wrong at all.
Ian: Impulsiveness belongs to you guys, but character persona is mine.
If Dumbledore hadn't been watching him the whole time, would he have bothered playing this kind of naive clearance game with a bunch of eleven-year-old kids just to maintain his persona?
Hogwarts: The Savior Fiercely Cracks Ships!
Chapter 73: Gifts Before the House Cup Feast
"Ian, Harry." Hermione scanned the surroundings first, then lowered her voice and said, "I always feel that Professor Dumbledore did this on purpose. He gave the Invisibility Cloak to Harry, and then pushed us forward step by step, as if everything was in his arrangement."
Cassandra's expression also darkened: "If that's really the case, then Professor Dumbledore is indeed quite terrifying. I'm talking about his planning ability."
Ian looked at the two little witches in some surprise.
Dumbledore was right; they were indeed very smart.
Of course, he didn't plan to defend Dumbledore either. No matter how you looked at it, Hermione and Cassandra's guesses weren't far-fetched.
After all, that was the White Wizard who could defeat Grindelwald, make Voldemort feel fear, and even make the Minister for Magic watch his expression. If anyone really regarded him as a kind, benevolent old man who only knew how to chat with a smile, that would be truly thinking too simply.
This old man was far less simple than he appeared on the surface.
"Professor Dumbledore is indeed guiding us." Harry sighed softly, "But his starting point is good."
"That's right." Seeing Harry say so, Ian immediately chimed in, "He has taught us quite a bit, and Harry and I will have to face Voldemort sooner or later; this matter cannot be avoided."
"I understand the logic too." Draco rolled his eyes ungraciously, "Can't he stop always letting us verify these truths ourselves?"
As soon as these words came out, several of them burst into laughter, and even Hermione and Cassandra couldn't hold back.
"Alright, let's consider this matter past." Ian stretched lazily, "The most important thing now is sleep. I can't wait to have a good sleep."
"We still have to attend the House Cup Feast tonight." A bit of anticipation appeared on Harry's face, "I wonder which House will win the House Cup in the end."
"Anyway, it won't be Gryffindor." Hermione poured cold water on it directly.
Ron's expression became even more bitter: "We're in last place after all."
Draco raised his eyebrows, his tone full of smugness: "Do you even need to ask? First place this time definitely belongs to Slytherin. First place for seven consecutive years, a seven-consecutive championship!"
Hearing this, Ian and Cassandra straightened their chests, and proud expressions appeared on their faces as well.
That's right, they were Slytherin students after all.
Looking at Ian's look that wished he could write "I'm proud" on his face, Hermione simply reached out and covered his face.
This guy is really asking for a beating.
"Why are you few still staying here?" Madam Pomfreypushed the door open, glared at them and said, "It's already been fifteen minutes, especially Ian and Harry, the two of you still need to rest!"
Ian and Harry smiled awkwardly at her, neither daring to talk back.
"Alright, get out quickly." Madam Pomfrey waved her hand, driving Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Cassandra out of the Hospital Wing like shooing a group of little chicks.
"See you tonight, everyone." Ian waved at the door, and then lay back down on the bed with Harry.
This sleep lasted straight until evening for the two of them. When they woke up, most of the fatigue on their bodies had faded, and their energy had recovered quite a bit.
After night fell, everywhere in the castle was filled with a festive and lively atmosphere. The lights lit up, and the young Wizards were all happy for the upcoming holiday.
Only Ian and Harry couldn't be happy.
"Madam Pomfrey, hasn't Professor Dumbledore already allowed us to attend the House Cup Feast?" Ian had just slipped down from the bed when he was caught red-handed by Madam Pomfrey.
"I know." Madam Pomfrey pointed outside, "Someone has come to see you."
Ian and Harry exchanged glances, both seeing each other's confusion.
"Who is here?" Ian looked towards the door.
As soon as his words fell, Hagrid turned sideways and squeezed through the door.
With Hagrid's physique, every time he entered the door, it looked like a behemoth struggling to pass through the door frame. He walked over to sit beside Harry, and after just taking a glance at the brothers, his tears began to plop down.
"It's all my fault... I'm truly a fool!" Hagrid covered his face and cried very sorrowfully, "I was the one who told that bastard how to get past Fluffy! I told him about this! He knew everything, except he didn't know this point, yet I actually said it out loud myself!"
Ian opened his mouth wide on the spot.
No, bro, your opening is way too direct!
"You guys almost lost your lives!" The more Hagrid spoke, the sadder he became, his whole body shaking, "All for that Dragon egg! I'll never drink alcohol again in the future! A person like me should be driven out and be a Muggle for the rest of my life!"
Tears seeped into his thick beard one by one.
"Hagrid, don't cry first." Harry panicked all of a sudden, and quickly spoke up to comfort him.
Ian also hurriedly said: "This can't be blamed on you. The other party is Voldemort after all; even if you didn't say it, he would definitely find a way to figure it out."
"But the two of you almost died!" Hagrid said while sobbing, "Don't mention that name, he is You-Know-Who!"
"Hagrid, what's there to be afraid of about Voldemort!" Harry couldn't help raising his voice.
Seeing Hagrid startled into a shiver, he quickly softened his tone: "Ian and I have both seen him, and even called out that name directly to his face. Ian even scolded him as trash!"
"Alright, alright, don't cry anymore." Ian patted Hagrid's shoulder, "How about eating a Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured Bean first? Professor Dumbledore said that when he was young, he ate one that tasted like dog dirt."
"I won't eat it, you guys eat it yourselves." Hagrid wiped away his tears, and then took out two exquisitely covered books from his bosom: "I brought gifts for you."
Ian immediately sat up straight, looking at him eagerly: "What gift?"
"It wouldn't be Acromantula venom, Unicorn hair, or Dragon skin and Dragon blood, would it?"
Harry's expression froze first: "It couldn't be Rock Cakes again, could it?"
"No." Hagrid shook his head and handed the two books over, "Dumbledore gave me a day off yesterday and asked me to sort these out. Of course, he should actually completely expel me—"
Ian immediately raised his hand, stopping him from continuing to blame himself.
"Alright, alright, I won't say it." Hagrid muttered softly for a couple of sentences, handing the books into their hands, "This is for you, Ian, Harry."
The brothers opened the pages with curiosity, and then both froze.
The book was pasted full of Wizard photographs. On every page, the people in those photographs were smiling and waving at them, and the two most important people among them were precisely their parents—Lily Potter and James Potter.
"I wrote letters to Lily and James's former classmates and asked them for photos." Hagrid said carefully, "Ian, Harry, do you like them?"
Harry was momentarily speechless.
Ian looked at Hagrid with a face full of gratitude: "Thank you, Hagrid."
"This must be the best gift we have ever received." Harrynodded hard.
"Hagrid, we're going to the House Cup Feast." Ian carefully put away those two books, and then asked, "Do you want to come with us?"
"No, no need, you guys go ahead." Hagrid shook his head repeatedly, "I'm a sinner, I shouldn't—"
"Don't say that!"
Harry and Ian spoke at the same time, directly blocking his subsequent words back.
Hagrid still wanted to explain, but Ian and Harry had already grabbed him from left and right.
"Let's go quickly, the feast is about to start."
"That's right, Hagrid, stop letting your imagination run wild. In fact, facing Voldemort directly isn't as bad as you think."
The three of them jogged all the way and soon hurried to the entrance of the Great Hall.
Hogwarts: The Savior is Breaking Up Ships Again!
Chapter 74 Last-Minute House Points for the House Cup
The Great Hall had been redecorated today; Slytherin's green and silver draped the surroundings, and a giant banner hung behind the high table, coiled with a ferocious Slytherin snake.
Having won the House Cup for seven consecutive years, the snake house naturally spared no expense on the spectacle this time.
The four long tables were already filled with students.
Everyone was chatting animatedly, but when Ian and Harrywalked side by side into the Great Hall, it was as if someone had suddenly pressed the mute button, and all sound stopped at once.
Immediately after, whispers burst out abruptly, even louder than before.
The brothers turned a blind eye to the staring gazes around them and each sat down at their respective House's long table.
Ian's bottom had barely touched the chair when the little snakes swarmed over.
"Prefect! Prefect Potter! Is it true that you defeated Professor Quirrell?"
"Prefect Potter, how are you feeling right now?"
"Ian, are you really alright?"
Questions came one after another, almost burying him completely.
"I'm fine, I'm doing great." Ian waved at them with a smile, saying, "Don't worry, I've fully recovered."
Draco immediately hijacked the conversation, practically standing up from his chair: "You guys have no idea how fierce Ian was back then! He fought Professor Quirrellhead-on and didn't fall behind at all!"
He spoke with great animation, his tone full of pride from having personally participated in that battle.
If everyone hadn't known what actually happened, they really would have thought he was the one who defeated Quirrell.
After listening to him boast for a while, Ian finally couldn't help but speak up: "Alright, Draco. You're exaggerating way too much."
Saying that with his mouth, but being very honest in his heart.
Very good, continue. Complimenting a bit more wouldn't hurt either.
On the other side, the Gryffindor long table was similarly packed tightly around Harry.
The Savior had once again become the pride of the little lions, and the previous doubts and alienation seemed to have never existed.
Not long after, Dumbledore stood up from the high table.
He raised his hand and waved it toward the Great Hall, and the surrounding clamor quickly subsided.
"Another school year has ended!" the old man said with a smile, "Before everyone enjoys dinner, let this old man say a few words of annual nonsense first."
"This year has been quite wonderful.
I believe the things stuffed in your heads are definitely more than last year."
He paused and continued, "Next is a long holiday, enough for you to slowly digest this knowledge before the next semester starts, and clear up a little space in your brains."
The students listened quietly.
Dumbledore picked up the list of House Cup scores.
"By convention, we will first announce the final scores of each House.
Fourth place, Gryffindor, four hundred points; third place, Hufflepuff, four hundred and two points; Ravenclaw, four hundred and five points; Slytherin, four hundred and ten points."
As soon as his voice fell, cheers immediately erupted from the Slytherin long table.
Some slammed the tables, some stamped their feet, and others directly clanked their goblets loudly.
Draco was especially enthusiastic, holding his goblet and slamming it against the table time after time, the smugness on his face practically overflowing.
"Mm, well done, Slytherin." Dumbledore looked at the hall filled with green decorations, his tone quite sincere.
Ian rolled his eyes from an angle invisible to the crowd.
If he hadn't led Cassandra and Draco to participate in that trial this time, the House Cup would have already been casually handed over to Gryffindor by this old honeybee.
Born between heaven and earth, how could he always stay under others?
He, Ian Potter, must become the most dazzling one in Hogwarts.
However, Dumbledore's next words immediately changed the atmosphere in the Great Hall.
"Of course, several recent events should also be factored into the House points."
Slytherin's cheers stopped abruptly.
The smiles that had just hung on the little snakes' faces gradually faded away.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and flipped through the list in his hand: "I still have some points to allocate here.
Let me see... Right, first is Mr. Ron Weasley."
When Ron was called by name, his cheeks instantly flushed red, almost the same color as his hair.
"He achieved victory in one of the most brilliant games of Wizard's chess seen at Hogwarts in many years.
Therefore, I decide to award fifty points to GryffindorHouse."
The Great Hall fell silent for a moment.
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students looked at each other in dismay: Is the House Cup about to change hands?
Gryffindor collectively froze, and only then did someone react.
Fifty points!
Have they finally made it through?
As for Slytherin, the mood was much simpler.
What do you want to do, Dumbledore?
Don't tell me you plan to steal our House Cup this way!
No matter what the other Houses thought, Gryffindor's little lions had already burst into tremendous cheers.
That sound almost lifted the enchanted ceiling, and the stars overhead seemed to shake slightly along with it.
Ian even heard the voice of Percy Weasley.
That prefect was excitedly announcing to the people around him: "It's my brother!
You know, my youngest brother, Ron Weasley!
He passed the giant chessboard set up by Professor McGonagall!"
Looking over at Slytherin, the little snakes who had been jubilant just moments ago had wilted quite a bit.
Ian sighed silently.
This was only the beginning.
In the original plot, Dumbledore's point-adding operations for Gryffindor tonight were far more than this.
"Why are you drooping your head along with them?" Ianraised his hand and patted Draco's platinum head, "We went together as six people, could he possibly leave us out?"
Draco touched his head, finally snapping out of it, and chuckled foolishly twice: "Right, how could I have forgotten about that."
"Don't mind him." Cassandra picked up her pumpkin juice and took an elegant sip, "He's just like Ron, both idiots."
The nearby Slytherin students heard this, were stunned for a moment, and then figured it out.
That's right, even if Dumbledore continued to add points, the snake house would still get its own share.
They were still ranked first; there was no need to panic at all.
Dumbledore began to announce the second item: "Miss Hermione Granger of Gryffindor, and Miss Vole of Slytherin.
They remained calm in front of the raging fire and completed the deduction using logic.
Therefore, Gryffindor House and Slytherin House are each awarded fifty points."
Over in Gryffindor, it instantly turned into chaos again.
Students near the trio even jumped up beside the long table, because they suddenly gained a hundred points, and their ranking surpassed Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
The Slytherin little snakes completely relaxed this time too, and cheers immediately rang out alongside Gryffindor's.
Theodore Nott and Braine shouted directly across: "Don't forget about us!
Cassandra also contributed, and she is very smart!"
Cassandra proudly raised her chin.
That's right, her intelligence was by no means inferior to Hermione's.
"Third item — Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter." Dumbledore looked toward the Slytherin long table, "You jointly completed a brilliant performance in the Quidditchmatch, demonstrating exceptional flying skills.
Slytherin House and Gryffindor House, fifty points to each."
Draco's chin immediately lifted even higher, as if he couldn't wait to write his name across the sky of the Great Hall.
That's right, he was the pride of the Malfoy family, the youngest Seeker in a hundred years... or one of them!
"In addition, Harry Potter demonstrated fearless daring and extraordinary courage at the very last moment." Dumbledore added, "Gryffindor House, another forty points."
Harry became so excited that he stood right up.
Ninety points!
He alone earned ninety points for Gryffindor!
Just as this cheer subsided, the Great Hall grew quiet again.
All gazes turned to Ian, and Dumbledore also looked at him with a smile.
"Of course, course, and our Mr. Ian Potter." The old man deliberately slowed down his speaking pace, "From beginning to end, he demonstrated outstanding leadership skills; he passed the test of Devil's Snare with clever magic; in the chess game, he did not abandon his friends; and in the end, he showed courage no less than Gryffindor's."
Dumbledore paused and gave his evaluation: "This is a very outstanding young Wizard."
Ian rarely felt his face warm up, but inside he was already urging him on.
Old honeybee, since you are so good at talking, please continue, don't stop!
"So—" Dumbledore drew out his voice, "To recognize the outstanding performance of Mr. Ian Potter, I decide to award one hundred points to Slytherin House!"
Boom!
The entire Great Hall completely boiled over.
The crowd of Slytherins suddenly swarmed toward Ian, cheers rising higher and higher in waves.
"Ian Potter! Ian Potter! Ian Potter!"
The shouts shook the Great Hall until it rang.
Chapter 75: Nicolas Flamel's Invitation
The noise in the Great Hall was almost enough to blow the roof off. The young Wizards, whose throats were hoarse from shouting but who still hadn't forgotten to calculate the scores in their minds, quickly figured out the result: Slytherin had already secured 610 points, while Gryffindorwas still 20 points short.
Dumbledore raised his hand, and when the commotion subsided a bit, he smiled and began: "There is more than one kind of courage. When facing enemies, you need immense bravery; but standing by your own judgment in front of friends requires courage just as much."
The old man let his gaze fall on Neville: "Therefore, I award Neville Longbottom another twenty points."
As soon as those words fell, the Gryffindor long table instantly erupted into cheers that practically rivaled an explosion.
"610 points! It's a tie!"
"We have the same as Slytherin!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up on the spot and cheered loudly. Neville, however, was completely stunned, his face as white as paper, before being thoroughly surrounded by the crowd rushing over to congratulate and hug him.
He had never earned a single point for Gryffindor before.
Ian, sitting at the Slytherin long table, frowned. Although Dumbledore hadn't directly taken the House Cup away from Slytherin, he had stubbornly pulled the scores of both sides into a tie just to build momentum for Harry, and even handed twenty points to Neville, who hadn't helped much during the trials.
When Harry got those extra forty points, at least he had a reason for fighting Voldemort. What about Neville?
Ian turned his head sideways, looking at Dumbledore with his kind smile at the staff table.
This old bumblebee looked fair, but his so-called fairness was in itself another form of unfairness.
Ian knew very well that Dumbledore couldn't possibly let just himself, a Slytherin student, become the center of attention while letting Harry, the Gryffindor savior, be overshadowed by his younger brother in his very first year. Understanding was one thing, but he still felt unhappy about it.
What he wanted was a unique victory, not tying for first place with others.
"Fine, fine," Draco said with a curl of his lip, "from now on we'll have to share this House Cup with Gryffindor."
Ian didn't retort, merely nodding slightly before looking toward the staff table. Although Snape was likewise less than satisfied, he had already reluctantly accepted the result and was shaking hands with Professor McGonagall.
"This means—" Dumbledore had to raise his voice to drown out the thunderous cheers in the Great Hall, "we need to change the decorations in here a bit."
He clapped his hands.
Half of the hanging green streamers turned into bright red; the silver decorations turned into gold. The massive Slytherin serpent shrank a bit, and an imposing Gryffindorlion appeared beside it.
Dumbledore raised his goblet and said in a ringing voice: "To the wonderful performance of both houses, let us all raise a toast to celebrate!"
The Gryffindors raised their cups one after another.
"Cheers! Cheers!"
"Share the House Cup?" The little snakes of Slytherinmuttered with straight faces one by one, "We've won the championship for seven consecutive years, why do we have to share with others this year!"
The competition for the House Cup ended just like that. Although Slytherin and Gryffindor ultimately lifted the cup together, Ian's performance during the trials still earned him an extremely high reputation at Hogwarts.
As the feast ended and everyone was preparing to return to their respective houses, Professor McGonagall suddenly called out to Ian.
"Ian, Professor Dumbledore wants you to go to the Principal's Office. The password is 'Lemon Sherbet'."
"Alright, Professor."
Ian agreed readily. Although he didn't understand why Dumbledore was suddenly looking for him, he immediately left the Great Hall, crossed the entrance hall, walked all the way up the marble staircase, and finally arrived outside the door of the Principal's Office on the eighth floor of the castle.
"Lemon Sherbet," he said to the stone gargoyle at the entrance.
The stone statue miraculously came to life, jumping aside to reveal a spiral staircase behind it.
Ian walked up the stairs and quickly stood at the entrance of the Principal's Office.
"Professor Dumbledore?" He glanced inside the office.
The old man behind the desk raised his head, his gaze behind his half-moon spectacles falling upon him: "Ah, Ian, you're here. Please sit down."
Ian sat down in front of the desk. Facing Dumbledore's smiling face, for some reason, his heart tightened a little.
Hiss, why was this old man staring at him like that?
Dumbledore didn't beat around the bush and said leisurely: "I invited you here mainly because an old friend asked me to ask you a question. Would you be willing to learn some special skills with him?"
"Special skills?" Ian raised an eyebrow, "That old friend of yours is..."
"Nicolas Flamel. You should have heard of him." Dumbledore smiled, "He knows that a few of you young Wizards protected the Philosopher's Stone, so he wants to ask if you have any interest in learning Alchemy."
Ian was directly stunned.
The next second, wild joy surged up fiercely from the bottom of his heart.
Nicolas Flamel!
That was Nicolas Flamel! As long as he learned Alchemy, to say nothing else, he wouldn't have to worry about money for the rest of his life at least.
"Ian, what do you think of this proposal?" Seeing that he remained silent for a long time, Dumbledore asked again.
Ian snapped back to his senses immediately: "Of course I'm willing! I am very willing to learn Alchemy with Mr. Nicolas Flamel!"
"Then I will convey your reply to Nicolas." Dumbledorepicked up a handful of sweets from the desk and handed them over to him, "Come on, have a candy. This is a brand new product freshly released by Honeydukes."
"Thank you, sir." Ian took the candy, but instead of eating it right away, he asked, "Professor, I wasn't the only one who protected the Philosopher's Stone. If you say Mr. Nicolas invited me because I ultimately fought Voldemort, then why didn't Harry receive an invitation?"
He was genuinely a bit curious.
"Because compared to Harry, you are more talented in Alchemy," Dumbledore explained, "Not every young Wizard can learn Ancient Magic."
"I see." Ian nodded.
He knew it; how could Dumbledore forget the Gryffindorsavior when it came to such a good thing. Turns out Dumbledore hadn't missed Harry; rather, Nicolas Flamelsimply hadn't taken a fancy to him.
"Ian, one could also say this," Dumbledore sighed with emotion, "you are the most talented child I have ever seen, even more exceptional than Voldemort back then. Even I, along with that friend of mine from long ago, failed to learn Ancient Magic in our first year."
Ian blinked.
The old friend he spoke of was naturally Gellert Grindelwald. Two months of obsession and entanglement exchanged for a century of silence—just thinking about it was moving.
"Professor, I originally wanted to be modest," Ian grinned, "but since you've rated me this way, it shouldn't matter if I'm a little bit proud, right? Who can blame me when I'm truly this excellent."
"Haha, confidence and strength are the rarest things at your age." Dumbledore was amused into laughter by him, "You certainly have the qualifications to be proud. I believe that in the future you will surely accomplish great things."
After the laughter stopped, the old man's tone gradually turned serious: "Voldemort is terrifying, but he did accomplish a major undertaking. As for that friend of mine from long ago... what he did was likewise a major undertaking."
Ian fell silent.
He understood Dumbledore's hint. This excessively clever old man was clearly reminding him not to stray onto a misguided path.
"Professor." Ian raised his head, meeting Dumbledore's scrutinizing gaze head-on, "magic itself is not wrong, and the Dark Arts are not wrong either; the truly problematic ones are the people who use them, right?"
Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, then smiled.
"You are right, Ian. magic has no black and white; what determines good and evil is always the person who wields it."
"Alright, it's getting late." Dumbledore put his smile back on, "Your friends should still be waiting for you in the Great Hall, go back first. A week from now, I will take you to France to see Nicolas."
"Alright, Professor."
Ian rose from his chair, bowed slightly to Dumbledore, and then walked towards the door.
Dumbledore watched him all the way. When the young Wizard reached the doorway, however, he suddenly stopped and turned around.
The old man seemed somewhat surprised.
"Professor Dumbledore," Ian asked, "the major undertakings that Voldemort and your old friend did back then were both aimed at changing the Wizarding Worldand abolishing the Statute of Secrecy, weren't they?"
Dumbledore didn't answer, only looking at him with an ambiguous smile.
Ian gave him a deep look, turned around, and left the Principal's Office.
After the office grew quiet again, Dumbledore sat alone behind the desk, the smile on his face fading bit by bit. He stood up and walked to the window, looking out toward the direction of the Forbidden Forest, and remained silent for a long time.
After a moment, he asked in a low voice: "Tell me, should I go see him? Can he see this child's future? Or perhaps, what he sees is the future of the entire Wizarding World?"
Not a single portrait on the wall uttered a sound.
They all knew that Dumbledore already had a decision in his heart.
When Ian returned to the Great Hall, Hermione and the others immediately crowded around.
"Ian, what on earth did Professor Dumbledore call you over for?" Hermione asked curiously.
Ian deliberately put on a mysterious smile: "Guess first."
"Could it be related to protecting the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked tentatively.
"Half right." Ian raised an eyebrow, "Nicolas Flamel is going to take me on as a student."
"What?"
Several people exclaimed in shock at the same time, and many surrounding young Wizards were attracted by the sound and looked over toward them.
The six of them hurriedly hid in a corner of the Great Hall, lowering their voices to continue talking.
"That's Nicolas Flamel!" Ron's eyes were practically going straight with envy, "He's going to take you as his apprentice? Ian, you're definitely going to become a big shot in the future!"
Ian shook the Alchemy necklace on his neck: "What's so great about that? Once I learn Alchemy, I'll gift each of you one of these for Christmas."
"What's a necklace?" Draco immediately picked up the thread, "If you can reach Nicolas Flamel's level, create a Philosopher's Stone, and then brew the Elixir of Life, then send each of us a bottle."
Harry and Ron nodded repeatedly.
"Right, right, right, that's much more practical."
Ian's mouth twitched: "You three, what kind of daydreams are you having here?"
The Elixir of Life made with the Philosopher's Stone as raw material—how could that be something casually brewed up? Piled up behind that thing were lives after lives.
When Nicolas Flamel was able to brew the Elixir of Life back then, it was largely because he was in the midst of the Great Plague of the Middle Ages. The Black Death swept across Europe, and the plague claimed the lives of more than twenty-five million people, with the death toll accounting for about a third of Europe's population at the time.
So many people died that he had the opportunity to complete that kind of refinement through it.
Now there was neither a medieval plague nor a world war, so where on earth was Ian going to find the lives of so many dying people to make medicine?
After messing around for a while longer, Ian finally brought Cassandra and Draco back to the Slytherin common room.
As soon as she sat down, Cassandra looked at him with some disappointment: "Ian, are you really not coming to my house to play during the summer vacation? You didn't even invite me to visit your manor."
Draco chimed in from the side as well: "Exactly. You could come take a look at Malfoy Manor too, my family even has white peacocks!"
Ian awkwardly rubbed his nose: "Next time, definitely next time. I have to go back to Manchester with Hermione first for the summer."
He looked at Cassandra and explained earnestly: "You know, ever since I was seven, Uncle Granger and Aunt Granger have always treated me like their own son. To me, that place is considered home."
After hearing this, the disappointment on Cassandra's face dissipated a bit, and she responded softly: "Alright then."
But seeing that she was still somewhat sullen, Ian had to continue coaxing: "When Christmas or Easter holidays come, I'll definitely invite you to be a guest at the Potter Ancestral Home. Plus, you can also come to Manchester to find me and Hermione to play."
"Hmph, I am not going to look for her." Cassandra gave a low huff, then muttered as if talking to herself, "I want to spend a world for just the two of us with you..."
"What did you just say?" Ian didn't hear clearly and asked back subconsciously.
"Nothing." Cassandra shook her head and stood up from the sofa, "It's getting late, I'll head back to the dorm first. You rest early too, good night."
"Mhm. Draco, you rest early too."
Draco: "..."
Dragging me along with you as well, huh? Am I supposed to be just a part of your romance game too?
"Let's go, back to sleep." Ian pressed down on Draco's platinum head and pushed him toward the boys' dormitory, "What are you staring at Cassandra for? Go look at your Pansy Parkinson."
Draco's face practically collapsed.
The so-called true heartache doesn't require a huge row at all...
As for how sour his heart actually was, Ian couldn't be bothered to care anymore. He went back to the dorm and fell fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
Late at night, Ian lay in bed, replaying everything that had happened today.
Dumbledore's guard against him was much deeper than it appeared on the surface. That final remark asking about Voldemort and Grindelwald looked like it was just casually brought up, but it was clearly testing him.
Fortunately, adding up both lifetimes, he had lived for thirty years, and he managed to keep his composure when facing old fox Dumbledore.
If he were truly just an eleven-year-old young Wizard, he definitely couldn't have appeared this calm today. He probably would have already followed Dumbledore's guidance and blurted out some of his thoughts about the future.
Once it reached that step, what awaited him probably wouldn't just be this kind of "gentle" testing right now.
"Tch, the calculating Dumbledore!"