Clearly, she had seen through everything.
"Was it a dark wizard that captured me?" Ian's confidence began to waver as he felt the three Heads of House seemed to have eagle-like eyes, surrounding him in mid-air.
Professor McGonagall's gaze was the sharpest and most serious.
"Transfiguration is extremely difficult to conceal personal style and traces; don't forget, your transfiguration was taught by Professor McGonagall." Filius Flitwick's expression was quite peculiar.
He proactively reminded his own House student.
This Head of House had been feeling very complicated since realizing Ian had staged that scene; this kid had just asked him about the Patronus charm a few days ago and was now playing with Fiendfyre?
It seemed that Ravenclaw was not going to produce Dumbledore but rather Grindelwald!
Just look at that berserk Fiendfyre combined with Transfiguration... If it weren't for the location and the choice of magic being completely wrong, Filius Flitwick might have genuinely considered awarding his House a considerable number of points.
"How could you use such dangerous magic? And dare to use it so boldly?" Pomona Sprout covered her mouth, staring at Ian with a mixture of disbelief and concern.
In all her years of teaching, she had never encountered anything like this. The sheer magical force emanating from the Fiendfyre had convinced her that Hogwarts was under siege by a formidable dark wizard.
But who would have guessed... it was just a student? Pomona was the last to come to this realization, and she couldn't help but wonder what on earth Ian had been feeding on since childhood.
Dragon liver? Do Banshee howls for breakfast?
"I believe we all need a reasonable explanation, Mr. Prince. What precisely were you doing?" Professor McGonagall surveyed the surrounding devastation.
The Fiendfyre dragons had mostly been extinguished, but the scorched earth and lingering embers bore the marks of the catastrophic blaze. It looked as if a great magical battle had taken place.
The Forbidden Forest, usually brimming with life, now appeared lifeless and charred. Even with restoration spells and growth enchantments, it would take years to undo the damage.
"And remember, think very carefully before you answer," Filius Flitwick advised sternly, though the genuine concern in his voice was evident.
Setting fire to the Forbidden Forest is a grave offense.
Using Fiendfyre, no less. The repercussions could be catastrophic. Expulsion would be the least of Ian's worries; Azkaban's looming shadow seemed far too close.
Flitwick, however, could not bear the thought of one of his brightest students losing his future over a reckless act. The Dementors would not be impressed by Ian's magical prowess.
"I hope you don't intend to tell me this was all some elaborate prank," Professor McGonagall said sharply, her lips pressed into a thin line, concern flickering behind her stern expression.
A first-year student unleashing Fiendfyre in the Forbidden Forest. The very thought of what this child might do when grown sent a chill down her spine.
London?
Paris?
Would the world someday witness a magical blaze stretching from one city to the other?
"I certainly didn't mean for it to be a joke. I was forced into it..." Ian sighed, but before he could elaborate, Filius Flitwick interjected.
"You accidentally released the spell, didn't you?" Flitwick grasped at the slim possibility of redemption. Perhaps Ian had stumbled upon the magic and triggered it by mistake. Yes, that had to be it!
Ian shook his head, dashing Flitwick's fleeting hopes. "I deliberately cast the Fiendfyre spell, but there was a reason."
Flitwick's chest tightened, his hand half-raised in disbelief. But Ian's next words froze him entirely.
"There really was a dark wizard. I encountered him within the school ground s." Ian chose his words carefully, recalling the underground chambers. It was still technically part of Hogwarts.
"A dark wizard?" Professor McGonagall's brows furrowed deeply.
"Impossible. Hogwarts has always been secure. Not a single dark wizard has breached it for years," Pomona Sprout said, her voice filled with doubt.
"You mean to say a dark wizard pursued you into the Forbidden Forest, and you had no choice but to use Fiendfyre in self-defense?" Flitwick's tone wavered as he desperately sought any justification that might shield Ian from severe consequences.
"Erm..." Ian hesitated. He hoped the professors might assist him in tracking down the noseless Tom, so he decided to offer a partial truth.
"To protect the school, I pursued the dark wizard into the Forbidden Forest. He tried to kill me, so I used Fiendfyre to counter his spells."
"Unfortunately... he still managed to escape." Ian's frustration was not feigned. The fact that Voldemort had slipped through his fingers genuinely irritated him.
"Ah, I see. I knew you wouldn't do something like this without a reason. Wait, hold on— did you say you chased the dark wizard into the Forbidden Forest and forced him to flee?" Filius Flitwick's voice cracked slightly as realization dawned.
His eyes widened with astonishment.
"Aren't dark wizards usually the ones doing the chasing?"
Ian's calm response left the Charms professor utterly speechless.
"..."
"..."
The two female Heads of House, who were already bewildered by Ian's words, exchanged glances, momentarily stunned by the conversation between the Ravenclaw pair.
After a moment of silence, McGonagall's voice broke the tension.
"Even if there really was a dark wizard, you should have notified a professor instead of taking matters into your own hands. That was an extremely risky gamble. One misstep, and you could have been killed."
She wanted to scold Ian for being more reckless than even the most daring Gryffindors, but as her stern eyes took in the boy's pristine appearance, her words faltered.
"Regardless, you should have informed us."
McGonagall coughed lightly, her expression still firmly disapproving.
"The situation happened too suddenly, Professor," Ian replied earnestly. "If I hadn't pursued him, he would have killed me. You have no idea how dangerous that dark wizard is."
Without further delay, Ian drew his wand. Under the professors' bewildered gazes, he pointed it to his temple and extracted a thin, silvery strand of memory.
"I need you to see it for yourselves."
He lifted the memory into the air, the shimmering wisp floating ominously.
"Revisiting the Past."
It was a spell not found in standard textbooks, but one Ian had discovered in Hogwarts' extensive library— a memory-projection charm. Though not nearly as refined as the Pensieve used by Dumbledore, it was sufficient to conjure a vivid three-dimensional reproduction of his recent experience.
The air warped as the projection took form. A twisted, deformed creature emerged— its grotesque figure unnerving even in spectral form. But it was the face on the creature that stole the professors' breaths.
A wraith-like Voldemort.
McGonagall's composure cracked as she gasped, while Pomona Sprout clutched her chest in shock. Filius Flitwick's face paled, his hands trembling slightly.
"No... It can't be!" Pomona's voice trembled, barely above a whisper.
"Merlin's beard!" Filius exclaimed, the sheer impossibility of the scene leaving him aghast.
The true weight of the situation crashed down upon them. A first-year wizard had not only faced Voldemort— he had pursued him. And somehow, impossibly, he had survived.
"We must inform Dumbledore at once! This is beyond anything we can handle," McGonagall declared, her voice wavering. "Mr. Prince, can you swear to us that this memory is unaltered?"
Before Ian could respond, prepared to swear on the lives of his two dormmates, a calm yet commanding voice echoed from the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"I believe I am here, Minerva."
Dumbledore emerged, his presence alone bringing an immediate sense of reassurance. He wore his signature purple robes embroidered with silver stars, though their hem was slightly dirtied from the forest. Even so, the twinkle in his blue eyes was subdued— a clear sign of the seriousness of the situation.
"You've returned at last," McGonagall sighed, visibly relieved.
Behind Dumbledore, Hagrid's hulking figure appeared, his wild mane of hair brushing the branches above. But it was the third figure that made Ian's heart drop.
Professor Snape.
With his robes billowing and an expression as sharp as the Potions classroom's cauldrons, Snape's dark eyes burned with unreadable intensity.
Ian's stomach twisted uncomfortably. Facing Dumbledore was one thing, but enduring Snape's glare was an entirely different challenge.
(End of Chapter)
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