The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 131, Section 130: Ian's Mysterious Cycle

Chapter 131, Section 130: Ian's Mysterious Cycle

the next day.

Outside the Hogwarts Headmaster's office.

Ian, who had just left the office early in the morning, looked listless and weak, as if his body was severely depleted. This was a sign that a wizard's magic was extremely weak.

It doesn't mean a wizard is no longer able to cast spells, but a weakened magical energy makes a wizard's spells extremely difficult to cast and control, and sometimes even causes wizards to transform into the shape of the real explosive genius Seamus.

Of course, it wasn't that Ian was out of control. He felt that the most difficult part was the feeling of having to be alert and focused for class the next day after staying up all night.

Inside the auditorium.

On the table laden with a dazzling array of food, the young wizards noticed that something was wrong with Ian. Many of the young Ravenclaw wizards and even older students were whispering and discussing his situation.

"The young professor didn't teach us last night either. What's wrong with him, given his sunken cheekbones and low spirits?"

"It's simple, he's in love. That's how my brother is when he's in love. Sometimes I think the world is really unfair. My sister's face is so rosy when she's in love."

"I bet some bitch used a love potion on him."

"Huh? Why didn't you tell me about this method sooner? Damn it, if you can tell me about a method, it must be one you've already secretly used yourself. You're the real little bitch!"

"Stop talking! Eat this! This is delicious!"

"Don't steal my cream cake!"

Everything was happening just as Ian remembered, except for the rumors that had been fabricated about him beforehand. Most of the events differed from what he had experienced in terms of details. Of course, it might not be that drastically different, but it was still not a replay like in "Happy Death Day."

"Even if the difference is just one less bite of pickled vegetables, doesn't it also belong to the part that was abandoned by fate at the right time?" Ian stared blankly at the food on his plate.

He never imagined that at the young age of eleven, he would abandon his pursuit of health benefits such as goji berries, red dates, and hot water, and instead turn to pondering profound philosophical questions.

Ian was also pondering how to break the deadlock. He wasn't the type to place all his hopes on others, because relying on others or connections was never as good as relying on himself.

"If it is truly necessary to have absolutely no deviation, then Dumbledore's idea of ​​letting the correct time flow again is clearly something that even Merlin, if resurrected, could not accomplish."

"After all, even if I only take a bite of an apple, the damage to the cell walls will definitely not be completely inaccurate." Ian quickly finished the apple.

"Of course, as Professor Morgan also said, time, under the influence of fate, can smooth out those less severe setbacks, so perhaps Dumbledore simply meant to avoid making any major mistakes?"

Ian could only eat a little bit of fruit and pudding before he couldn't eat anymore. It's no wonder that some people lose weight because of worries; it really can seriously affect a person's appetite.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you eating so little?"

While William was secretly taking the special hot sauce from in front of Ian and coating his own bread, which was already covered in peanut butter, he began to ask Ian about his well-being in a very strange way.

As he looked at Ian with genuine concern, he even subtly pushed the hot sauce he'd just smeared onto his face towards his roommate Michael. No wonder this guy was practically a candidate for the Ministry of Magic; even Hollywood couldn't tolerate such a smooth, effortless performance.

"I've got something on my mind, and besides, Dumbledore drained my magic." Ian's voice sounded weak as he kept poking at the fruit peels on his plate with his fork, peels he'd eaten cleanly and then spat out. This little trick was something many senior wizards wanted to learn but never had the chance to.

"Oh my God! Dumbledore drained you dry? This—I don't want to hear it! I don't want to hear it! I didn't hear anything!" Michael exclaimed, covering his ears in surprise.

He probably misheard because he was sitting two wizards away from Ian. He stuffed the leftover chicken leg into his mouth and instantly displayed the top-notch facial expression of terror on a black man's face.

not only that.

This guy even started muttering something like "An old British gentleman, just as I thought," and who knows what shocking rumors he would spread at Hogwarts next.

of course.

Ian didn't care anymore. After all, if he didn't make it to Christmas, everything that had happened would be reset. Even if rumors spread that he and Snape had a child, it didn't matter.

"The fact that I didn't think about joining the Homelander movement shows that my self-control is indeed no weaker than Dumbledore's." Ian silently gave himself a thumbs up in his heart.

Followed by.

"Cough cough cough!!"

William, standing next to him, was flushed and coughing violently. He was holding a torn piece of sandwich in his hand and spitting out food scraps from his mouth.

"Your hot sauce is poisonous!!"

William drank three cups of water, but the pain in his mouth did not subside.

"It's not poisonous, it just contains extracts of Carolina Reaper peppers." Ian didn't turn his head, but continued to fiddle with the bits of fruit peel on his plate while pushing the milk in front of him toward William.

This was a drink that Ian had placed in front of him long ago, but he hadn't taken a single sip. Clearly, the milk he had prepared in front of him wasn't meant for him.

"How could you make this kind of monstrous hot sauce for yourself!?" William's expression immediately relaxed after drinking the milk laced with the magic potion, and his face, which was as red as a monkey's bottom, visibly returned to normal.

"I'm not eating this stuff, I prepared it for you." Ian knew, of course, that William would eat a lot of his hot sauce, which would mean he wouldn't have enough for dinner tonight.

After all, he had already experienced this scene in his own time. Hearing the conversation between the two, Michael, who had picked up the bright red bread again, silently put down his food.

The black guy also covered up the hot sauce that William had pushed to his side, and then happily ran over to Ian with the chili peppers, returning the hot sauce to Ian with both hands.

"You actually anticipated that I would steal your precious hot sauce, that's amazing." William looked a little stunned, his eyes wide open with a "Ron" face.

"I not only know you'll eat my hot sauce, but I also know that the Gryffindor prep guy over there gets slapped by his girlfriend, and then his little lover kicks him in the groin." Ian doesn't usually pay much attention to the gossip at Hogwarts, but he does remember some of the more unusual gossip.

He's now caught in a strange cycle, and no matter what spoilers he says or what he reveals, the people around him will never remember what he said or did.

Everything seemed to be happening.

But in Dumbledore's theory, nothing will ultimately leave a trace.

"I don't believe it!"

William stared intently at the Gryffindor table.

"I don't believe it either!"

Michael joined the ranks of those who were just staring blankly.

Of course, his mouth didn't stop, and no matter what food he was picking up from the plate with his fork, he kept shoving it into his mouth.

"Surely such a melodramatic plot won't happen."

The two of them stared at the direction Ian was pointing, and breakfast time passed by second by second. Just as they were about to complain that they had been tricked by Ian again,

"Snapped!"

The blonde girl angrily slapped a senior Gryffindor, and even after she stormed off, the senior Gryffindor hadn't looked away.

"Snapped!"

Another girl came up and, just as Ian had said, raised her leg, causing the older Gryffindor to turn ashen-faced and curl up on the ground like a limp shrimp.

Accusations of him being a scumbag and a womanizer drifted over from afar. Actually, Ian felt that this senior was really wronged, because from a certain perspective, he could actually be considered quite devoted.

Blonde hair, long legs, oval face.

In the coming days, the seven or eight boats that the senior student who capsized was exposed one after another all perfectly matched these three characteristics. Isn't this another form of devotion?

"It's actually true!"

Michael and William stared wide-eyed, their faces filled with disbelief.

"How did you know?"

William immediately turned to look at Ian.

"My friend, isn't it obvious? The answer is simple, of course it's prophecy. You didn't expect that, did you? The person sleeping in the bed next to yours is actually a prophet hidden among the people." Ian was doing as many things as he had never done before, as instructed by Albus Dumbledore.

The little wizard didn't know what Old Deng was planning to do, but he had shown off, stood up and left, leaving his two dumbfounded roommates with only a mysterious silhouette. It felt really good.

Humanity’s greatest enemy is time. Even though Ian was trapped in a loop, he still felt that this statement was very true, so he skipped his flight class, which was the first class of the morning, and went into the Room of Requirement.

Since he is now in a time loop that keeps resetting, in the Fate instance, the academy points are no longer important, and the little wizard should make full use of his time where it is needed.

"It's not that I'm disciplined enough, it's that Albus Dumbledore can't take a chance. He said he was going to do things he wouldn't normally do, but he rejected my wonderful suggestion to blow up the Ministry of Magic."

As Ian took out several more resurrection stone prototypes to begin further processing, he touched the trembling Dementor beside him and noticed that the Dementor was becoming increasingly able to understand human speech.

"Don't worry, I won't blow you up, nor will I blow up my Hogwarts." Ian felt that not only the Dementors were appeased, but the atmosphere in the Room of Requirement had also changed slightly.

"Mr. Morgan only said that I can't handle her weight right now, not that I won't be able to handle her weight in the future. Also, Pendro should have a ring that belongs to him."

"He might even crown me and prove my legitimacy—that glutton ate so many of my chocolate bars and chips, surely he won't leave me with nothing." Ian diligently inscribed death runes on the resurrection stone blank, heaven knows what kind of guy the little wizard wanted to attend Hogwarts.

The clock is ticking.

The little wizard is studying hard.

About an hour and a half later, Ian paused his rune-drawing work, checked the time, arranged for the Dementors to clean a few dozen more cauldrons, and then left the House of Requirement.

After flying class came Snape's Potions class. Even though Ian didn't care about his house grades, he had to attend, otherwise his life in the days to come would not be very comfortable.

This time.

I wasn't late.

He also successfully teamed up with Aurora.

There are many changes in the details.

The only constant was Professor Snape's sharp and sarcastic criticism.

"Your potion lacks the most important elements: focus and meticulousness. The cockroach was cut too roughly, affecting both the potion's color and its efficacy."

"Mr. Prince, is it your arrogance that makes you think you can easily deal with me? Ha, I think even—" Snape was about to blurt out some fabricated nonsense about Knockturn Alley not selling such rubbish.

"Here, this bottle is finely chopped."

Ian immediately handed over the second bottle, which made Snape pause slightly, his expression becoming somewhat strange. Then, he began to try to find fault with Ian's second bottle of potion.

A commentary.

Before they even got to the point of mocking him, Ian handed over the potion that would fix his flaws. Snape finally lost his temper and, with a livid face, loudly questioned Ian.

"Are you acting and wanting me?"

His spittle flew everywhere, but Ian nimbly dodged it.

"No, Professor, I identified the shortcomings you pointed out after I brewed the first potion. Shouldn't you be extremely pleased with that?"

Ian spoke sincerely and earnestly, though his voice was a little loud, attracting the attention of students from Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

Snape opened his mouth.

He could sense the little wizard's cunning thoughts, but for a moment he couldn't find a rebuttal.

"Rework!"

Ultimately, faced with the choice between accepting Ian's words and swallowing the bitter pill, or finding other excuses to refute him, Potions Professor Severus Snape chose the least thoughtless and most unreasonable approach.

can only say.

This professor truly lives up to his reputation.

"Sorry, Professor, I've used up all the herbs." Ian shrugged, not flustered at all. His robe was unbuttoned, revealing it to be full of the potions he was supposed to brew for this class.

"Damn it! When did you brew this medicine?!" Snape's expression changed drastically as he rushed towards the medicine cabinet. He only opened it during class, but it had still been thieved.

"I didn't break any rules, it was just in this class." Ian saw Snape rushing towards Aurora, and then, with his keen sense of smell, he pulled a wooden box directly from under the table.

"Seamless Expansion Spell—"

Snape's expression was priceless.

He saw more than twenty cauldrons propped up in the wooden box. To prevent him from discovering them in advance, the young wizard had even installed a small air purification device on the outside of the wooden box.

"It has nothing to do with me!"

Aurora promptly raised her hands.

'.......

Snape's feelings were truly complicated. Brewing so many potions by himself at the same time, even though the recipes weren't particularly complex, was still an extremely difficult task.

Many potion masters cannot accurately control the quality of potions during such simultaneous brewing, but a first-year wizard managed to do just that.

He should probably feel happy and gratified about this.

however.

No matter how hard Snape tried, he could only manage a gritted-teeth expression.

"Even if what you brew isn't exactly wasting potions, Hogwarts doesn't need so many bone-setting potions!" Snape slammed his hand on the table, trembling with rage.

"What if it comes in very handy? Nobody can say for sure, Professor." Aurora's sudden raising of her hand interrupted Snape, who glanced at her but dared not utter any sarcasm or questioning.

Yes, that's true.

The little wizard probably wouldn't do it.

But the little witch probably really dares to do it.

He was a professor at Slytherin House; how could he not know his own students? The giant bat flicked his sleeve and left without lingering, heading elsewhere to check the other people's homework.

"A divine assist! Awesome!"

Ian sat back down next to Aurora and gave the girl a thumbs up.

"You're perfectly capable of brewing a flawless bone-setting remedy, so why do you create so many defective products? Is it just to spite your uncle?"

Aurora tilted her head, puzzled.

"Of course it's because—it was all Dumbledore's order." Ian certainly wouldn't admit to anything about being angry or not; he had a perfect excuse to explain his actions.

"Is that so?"

Aurora saw Ian nod seriously, and she seemed to understand something, appearing thoughtful. To be honest, Ian was targeting Snape because he knew he was about to be targeted by Snape himself.

This is not.

After Potions class.

Snape did indeed leave Ian behind as Ian remembered.

"I understand. You reminded me that I can't use magic when cleaning the toilet, so I need to clean it again tonight," Ian interrupted Snape before he could say anything.

"????"

Snape's expression changed again after his lines were stolen. Well, luckily he had prepared more than just that one line, so he immediately started assigning tasks to Ian.

"Because of your cunning magic, the washrooms are clean enough now. You need to coat all the toilets with wax. I added something to prevent you from—..."

Snape realized that before he could even raise his hand, Ian had pulled out a large bucket he had prepared from under the podium. The strange feeling that he had been holding back since the start of class could no longer be suppressed.

"What's wrong with you!?"

Snape looked on with suspicion, but Ian did not answer him. He simply filled the barrel and ran off, leaving Snape with a mysterious silhouette.

of course.

Unlike the other young wizards who were just amazed and dumbfounded, Snape frowned and quickly followed them out. Instead of retrieving Ian, he went to the Great Hall and captured Ian's two roommates.

"Tell me! What happened to Prince!" His face had an innate power over the young wizards, and William and Michael, who were as thin as quails, immediately trembled.

"We cannot betray our friends, Professor."

William gritted his teeth.

"Yes, this is a despicable act."

Michael immediately swallowed hard and echoed.

"Very good, protecting your friends, of course I understand. However, I hope your brains are as strong as your friendships. I think as Ravenclaw students, you must know about a spell called Legilimency. I'm not very proficient at using it, so there might be some mistakes."

"Amnesia? Becoming an idiot? Well, that would be the best-case scenario—" Snape certainly knew how to threaten a young wizard, and his words caused Ian's two roommates' expressions to change drastically.

Michael was almost scared out of his wits.

William's eyes also showed terror.

"You can't do that, Professor! You'll end up in Azkaban!" William shouted, but their voices were drowned out by the noise in the auditorium.

"Oh? Then shall we make a bet?" Snape raised his wand in a slow motion, and finally, the two young wizards couldn't hold back any longer and immediately gave their answer in tears.

"It's a prophecy! Professor! Ian has awakened his prophetic talent! He says he's a prophet hidden among the people!" After weighing the pros and cons, William decisively chose to betray his teammate.

He figured this shouldn't be anything that would endanger Ian's life. After all, Snape was Ian's uncle, and they had heard Ian mention this matter more than 360 times.

I just haven't been talking about it much lately.

"Prophecy? Prophet?"

Snape put down his wand, which he had been struggling to raise for ages. He frowned at first, then a sudden flash of inspiration struck him, and his expression changed drastically.

He left both young wizards standing there. Then, the black bat quickly ran towards the underground office, leaving William and Michael with only his hurried back view.

"What's wrong with him?"

Michael was still somewhat surprised and unsettled, but his skin tone had returned to its original color.

"Shall we follow them and see?"

William, being a very curious person, pulled Michael, who looked somewhat scared, towards the basement and watched Snape's every move from around the corner.

All I saw was...

Snape, after entering the office, soon ran out again, bringing back a tuft of blond hair and a tuft of black hair, which then disappeared into the office.

The aroma of brewing magic potions gradually wafted out.

"I bet that's Miss Grindelwald and Ian's hair."

Michael made his own judgment.

William, on the other hand, widened his eyes as if he had realized something.

"So that's it! It all makes sense! It all makes sense!" He exclaimed repeatedly as if he had suddenly realized something, his tone filled with a sense of excited elation.

The two roommates' grand adventure went unnoticed by Snape, while Ian hid in a corner of another corridor, observing the situation from time to time.

He knew who he would encounter in this corridor, so he made preparations in advance. Soon, as time passed, the simply dressed figure arrived, accompanied by the smell of garlic.

Just as Quirrell reached the middle of the corridor.

"Smack!"

Ian pressed a small device in his hand, and the next moment, a section of the floor beneath Quirrell's feet suddenly exploded, sending Quirrell flying from the spot—Dumbledore had only said he wasn't allowed to bomb the Ministry of Magic, not that he wasn't allowed to find something else to bomb.

"Professor Quirrell has gone up to the ceiling."

Behind.

A sound of amazement rang out.

The tone was immature.

"Yeah, I really don't know who's trying to ambush our professor." Ian's attention was focused on Quirrell, and he had been holding his wand up the whole time.

after all.

This sneak attack wasn't just to change his encounter with Quirrell; it was also so that once Voldemort's soul emerged, he could shout "There are rats! There are dirty things!" to burn Voldemort's soul.

however.

Even though Quirrell was blown to the ceiling and then slammed to the ground, his buttocks were bruised and battered, there was still no unusual movement on his body.

can only say.

Voldemort was truly patient.

No wonder they succeeded.

"Unfortunately, it seems you haven't achieved your goal." The voice came from behind again, but it was no longer childish; instead, it had become a voice that sent a shiver down Ian's spine.

"Hiss! You're using a voice changer to play tricks on me! Professor! You're the real scum!" Ian turned around with a look of surprise and doubt, only to see the young professor in a dark green robe standing behind him.

"This is called Transfiguration, little one." Alchemy Professor Arthur King used a different tone of voice, and there was indeed a clear visual change taking place in his throat.

"You're not in the library?"

Ian seemed a little strange.

He was still recalling his encounter with Professor Arthur King at the library.

"I was just about to go."

Arthur King chuckled softly.

"All right."

Ian's knowledge of what would happen at this point in time was limited to what he had experienced, so he genuinely didn't know when the alchemy professor had gone to the library before he started researching the Resurrection Stone.

Have a nice day.

Ian was somewhat worried that the young professor would discover that he was the one who blew up Quirrell, even though Quirrell, now awake from his unconsciousness, had nothing to hide and instead hurriedly crawled toward a secret passage.

"Of course I'll have a good day."

Arthur King didn't seem to care about Quirrell. He walked forward, but after going a short distance, he stopped and turned back to look at Ian.

"However, you might not be happy—remember I said I could help you? Haha, now that you think about it, do you regret refusing me?"

The alchemy professor spoke in a very light and cheerful tone.

He said things he shouldn't have said.

(P.S.: I was delayed by someone today. Tomorrow, I'll finish writing a long, intense chapter.)