socalfunplaces Chapter 107, Section 106: Calculating the Founder, Creating a Miracle
Chapter 107, Section 106: Calculating the Founder, Creating a Miracle
Chapter 107, Section 106: Calculating the Founder, Creating a Miracle
Ian had seen talking books in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library, and he had even studied them out of curiosity. This was probably one of the main reasons for the absurd scene before us.
"I'm actually more efficient at alchemy when I'm drunk!?" Ian tried hard to recall what he had done last night, but all he could remember was dancing and fighting against the ghosts at their banquet.
Children really shouldn't drink alcohol.
He had no idea when he returned to the Room of Requirement, how he stayed up all night to put together this pile of books, or even how he decorated the Dementors.
The feeling of a hangover is awful.
This is especially true for Ian's body, which is not yet fully developed.
He shook his throbbing head, and fragmented memories seemed to surface, but all he could recall was how he had categorized the bones of the Riddle family.
"There's always an old Tom among you." Ian looked at the pile of Muggle skeletons that had been carefully sorted out. Because their bones lacked bloodline magic, they were spared and piled up in the corner. As for the bones that possessed bloodline magic, they all turned into the Book of Bones that was now floating in mid-air.
None escaped unscathed.
"My body is about to burst!"
"Couldn't you make me bigger?"
1
"You've crooked my face on the cover! Take my face off and reassemble it!"
"Oh my god, what a boring creator! He created us just so he could talk to stupid snakes. I feel utterly disgusted with what I'm meant to be and the mission I'm given!"
A group of floating books of bones chattered incessantly from beginning to end.
Their covers are made up of carefully selected human skeletons, which were originally scattered and rearranged to form a lifelike yet unique skeletal face.
There are men and women.
While it looked sinister, it also had the feel of an artwork. Ian felt that he had quite a bit of artistic talent when he was drunk, so he grabbed one of the books, "The Book of Parseltongue," and opened it up.
as predicted.
Just like when his plans were interrupted by the ghosts yesterday, there were no words in the book, only ancient runic symbols outlined with lines flickering faintly.
"Hiss hiss~"
The open book of Parseltongue no longer complained; the skeletal face on the cover began to whisper like an instructor, and Ian seemed to hear the sounds of snakes.
Accompanying the translation.
However, before the translator's whispers even began, Ian found himself guessing the meaning of Parseltongue ahead of time, and although there were still some errors, it was generally pretty close.
It was only then that Ian noticed that, with his frantic alchemy last night, his alchemy was nearing a breakthrough point. At the same time, it seemed that he had also gained a preliminary understanding of Parsleyan in the process of refining the Book of Parsleyan. He did not gain any specific skills, but the skills he already had were greatly improved.
[Language Proficiency (Level 7): 5/6400]
It has gone from level six to level seven, becoming an ability on the same level as [Blazing Journey]. If it can fully master Snake Language, it should be able to achieve a significant improvement.
"Hiss hiss hiss~"
Ian tried using Parsleyan and the Book of Parsleyan to interact with the language.
"Hiss hiss hiss hiss~"
The skeletal face on the cover of *The Book of Parsleyan* immediately responded. This is *The Book of Parsleyan*.
The reason why they seem to be highly "intelligent" and even make sarcastic remarks.
Ian's creative philosophy is to provide learners with a good language communication environment.
He believes that rigidly rote memorization of vocabulary and language structures will only leave learners with a Parsleyan accent who can understand spoken Parsley but struggle to truly communicate. The best and fastest way to learn a language is through interaction from the very beginning.
"You guys are amazing!" Ian gave the user experience of the Book of Parsleyan a perfect score, and he immediately took out his carving knife and wrote a sentence on the Book of Parsleyan.
[They will speak to you; this is from Ian Prince's masterpiece.]
Following the "Crushed Bones and Ashes Box," Ian has created another original work. Although the raw materials are somewhat supernatural, the "Book of Parseltongues" is clearly more meaningful than the "Crushed Bones and Ashes Box." If the Gaunt family has no objections in the afterlife, it might truly be considered an outstanding work.
after all.
Besides being inherited through blood, Parsleyan is a language that even Dumbledore struggled to master through learning. It's worth noting that Dumbledore was not only a magical genius but also a linguistic genius. If even a master like him could only memorize a few syllables, it's even less likely that other mediocre wizards would be able to master Parsleyan.
"Unfortunately, I can't sell you at the school, at least not until I catch the precious basilisk—the young wizards at the school probably won't offer too high a price anyway." Ian "fished out" the Parsleyan Books that were scattering in mid-air, stuffing dozens of them into his money bag.
After numerous expansions in space, Ian's purse is now the size of a football field, and he carries most of his belongings with him.
of course.
A space the size of a football field is not the limit of the Expansion Charm; it is merely a sign of Ian's current control over the Expansion Charm. He will certainly continue to expand the space in his money pouch in the future.
Whether it's useful or not is secondary.
All Ian wanted was his own Doraemon four-dimensional pocket.
"You all go in too."
After a moment's consideration, Ian ultimately decided against destroying the large pile of Muggle skeletons. Rather than burning them all to ashes with Fiendfire, he preferred to boil Old Tom's bones into soup.
In potions, human bone meal is also a material, and it's very difficult to obtain through legitimate means.
Voldemort's father's bones were hidden among a group of normal Muggle skeletons.
Ian felt it was a waste to destroy everything just to eliminate future troubles—so he dug up all the graves in the village because he couldn't find which one was Old Tom in his time of need.
"The potential consequences are minor. If we need to use Old Tom's bone to save Harry Potter's Horcrux, Snape would definitely be willing to admit that I'm the most talented student he's ever taught, just to save the Savior's life."
Then write a guarantee that you will give Ravenclaw at least 100 points per semester.
Ian tried to stuff the bound Dementor back into his money pouch, but he hadn't yet figured out how to tighten it. The Dementor, about the same size as Hagrid, got its head stuck in the pouch's opening and closing mechanism, leaving Ian with no choice but to pull it out.
"Why can't you have a balloon head!" Ian locked the Dementor back in the cage and hid it away. The Dementor, looking aggrieved, curled up in the corner of the cage as if sobbing.
This was a scene no other wizard had ever witnessed. After tidying up the somewhat chaotic Room of Requirement, Ian realized it was already two or three in the afternoon. Luckily, it was Halloween and Hogwarts was closed for the whole day, otherwise he would definitely have earned the new achievement of skipping a whole day of classes.
"I want to eat rice! I want to eat rice!" Just as Ian was about to leave, suddenly, the portrait in the Room of Requirement classroom that Ian often used spoke.
"If Salazar were still alive, he would definitely kill you."
They had never spoken before; this was the first time, which startled Ian, who quickly turned to look.
It was a dashing, red-haired youth he had never seen before. This figure had never appeared in any of the paintings at Hogwarts, nor had there been any portrait of him in this classroom before.
You should know that Ian went to great lengths to harass the portraits in the castle in order to figure out the principles of "magical intelligence".
"You're an ancestor of the Weasley family? To be honest, I initially just wanted to study the origins of Parseltongue's bloodline through those bones, but I never expected that I would accidentally turn them all into the Book of Bones last night."
Ian stared at the red-haired youth's slightly fluffy red hair. The classroom was filled with the names of outstanding graduates of Hogwarts, most of whom were masters in the fields of potions and alchemy.
"I have no offspring. Offspring would only slow down my sword-drawing speed. Can any Weasley be as handsome as me?" The red-haired youth in the portrait retorted.
"Oh, you're Gryffindor." Ian stared at the portrait that should have been of a picnic witch, with a backdrop of mountains and flowing water, but the red-haired youth had somehow chased the picnic witch away.
"Quick reaction, you evil Ravenclaw brat." The red-haired youth in the portrait chuckled, not denying it, and picked an apple from a nearby fruit tree.
You should use honorifics when addressing me.
The Gryffindor portrait finds itself unable to bite into the apple in its hand.
"Your portrait clearly shows you're only a few years older than me, and you're obviously not even a founder yet. The Gryffindor portrait hanging next to the stairs is the founder and ancestor." Ian was a little indignant about the brat being called evil. He blinked seriously and said something that Gryffindor found hard to refute.
but.
Gryffindor was not bothered by this.
"I certainly won't deny that, but only I am the portrait that the real person poured their heart and soul into. And no matter when the painting that records me was created, as long as I appear, you can gain the recognition of the young Gryffindor wizards." The smiling red-haired youth clearly had Ian's personality under control.
"Greetings to you, great founder and ancestor." Ian seemed to have mastered Grindelwald's ability to change his expression, and he immediately bowed humbly to the portrait above.
The spirit of craftsmanship is being revived!
"What a snobbish brat, just like Salazar. It's a pity that if you hadn't stolen the bones of his descendants, you might have gained his approval as well."
Gryffindor's words made Ian's eyes light up.
"Are there still portraits of Slytherins in the school? Could collecting portraits of all four leaders grant some kind of benefit?" Ian's mind was always quick when it came to this.
"You should be able to find his portrait in his secret chamber, which also contains his hidden laboratory." Gryffindor hung the apple back on the tree. "You might be able to get something out of Ravenclaw's portrait; she left a secret treasure for her apprentices she hadn't found."
This sentence has a double meaning.
Ravenclaw did leave something for posterity, but the other founders did not have this in mind.
After hanging up the apples, Gryffindor spoke to Ian again.
"Of course, Salazar's approval might allow you to find the land deed you want—if you don't dig up the bones of his descendants to make those books."
He even knew that Ian coveted the land deed to Hogwarts.
"You've been spying on the young wizards all this time?" Ian had never seen Gryffindor in the portraits before, but he didn't expect the other party to have such a thorough understanding of him.
"The portraits are part of Hogwarts, and they know most of the things that Hogwarts has witnessed."
Gryffindor brushed the leaves off his body.
"Of course, as the founders' portraits, we are definitely more special than the other portraits, and each of us has our own secret hut at Hogwarts. Except for Helga's hut, which is not deliberately hidden, everyone else's secret hut is hidden in a place that others cannot find." Gryffindor's explanation roughly explains why Ian's Marauder's Map can only find the location of the Room of Requirement.
Because this is the only room that hasn't hidden its presence within Hogwarts' "system".
"So you also have a secret cabin."
Ian's heart stirred slightly.
He knew the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in Slytherin, and perhaps he could explore it once he learned Parsley, while he was also curious about the secret huts of the other two founders.
"You can't see me in the portraits in the castle because I've been staying in my hut. In fact, I wouldn't have come out to talk to you if I hadn't found your behavior so outrageous." Gryffindor raised an eyebrow, his voice carrying a hint of warning.
"Salazar was a very vengeful man, and his portrait certainly reflects that. If you suddenly find his secret room, be careful; it might be his portrait deliberately leading you there."
Gryffindor's words made Ian frown slightly.
"I will be careful."
Ian sighed helplessly. If it weren't for his indulgence last night, he actually wanted to create a talking skull, which might have been more respectful than turning the Gaunt family into books?
"Didn't you encounter any portraits of Slytherin's ancestors at school?"
There were never any portraits in the Chamber of Secrets in his memory, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it; Hogwarts itself certainly had too many secrets that he hadn't learned about in the original books.
"Yes, but I suspect he must have made and kept his own portrait," Gryffindor replied confidently. After a moment of contemplation, he continued, "Although we had a disagreement back then for some reasons, this school is ultimately the result of the hard work of the four of us."
"He actually just left; it's not that he doesn't care about this place." This is a view that Ian agrees with. The four founders undoubtedly have a special affection and bond with Hogwarts.
Ian nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly asked curiously, "Why don't I see Helga? This House of Requirement must be her secret hut, right?"
Faced with this question, Gryffindor simply sighed.
"There is a portrait of her in Hufflepuff's lounge, but it doesn't seem to have much of her presence, perhaps because her death was so sudden."
Gryffindor's portrait shows a somewhat melancholic expression. Although he is just a figure in a painting, his feelings for the other founders are clearly no different from those of Gryffindor.
"Um?"
Ian was fairly familiar with the idea that the portrait was imbued with a certain aura.
He had truly studied the essence of portraiture; a portrait possessing "wisdom" does not necessarily require the death of the subject. The reason these portraits can move and think does not depend on the painter. Yes, the level of wisdom in the portraits depends entirely on the "spiritual aura" left behind by the sorcerer depicted.
Wizards leave behind their "spiritual aura" at their usual places of residence during their lifetime; the more powerful the wizard, the more...
The stronger the "spiritual aura" they leave behind, the better. The artist's talent influences how well they utilize this "spiritual aura," and skilled artists may even infuse their own unique characteristics into their portraits.
This can sometimes lead to a powerful and intelligent wizard having a more capable portrait, which will certainly affect how well the portrait accurately portrays the person in the portrait.
From this perspective, it wouldn't be wrong to say that the portrait of the young Gryffindor resembles him more than he actually is.
"Did the Hufflepuff ancestors die suddenly?"
This wasn't the first time Ian had heard this claim. When Dumbledore told him about the founder's three deals, he also mentioned that the Hufflepuff ancestors' fate was not good.
"This kind of tragedy is not something you little wizards should gossip about." Gryffindor had no intention of answering Ian's question; he simply sighed heavily, his tone filled with sorrow.
"Then can you tell me about the deal that Hufflepuff witnessed?" Ian chose to settle for second best, feeling that he had discovered a great secret from ancient times.
"I know about the deal you mentioned, but I don't know the specifics. After all, I'm just a portrait, and the Gryffindor who created me didn't imbue me with any memories of this kind." The Gryffindor in the portrait shrugged, hesitated for a moment, and then added.
"He must have taken that matter very seriously and didn't want anyone to know it from me. Portraits are hard to keep secrets, but he even gave me his memory of who he peeked at while they were taking a bath."
The Gryffindor portrait lowered its voice and said smugly.
Ian's eyes widened.
"Fine, fine! If you don't go to Gryffindor and announce that I'm your chosen successor, I'll immediately tell everyone that you peeked at Ravenclaw while they were bathing!"
He felt like he had caught Gryffindor's little chicken foot.
"??????"
The young Gryffindor portrait was dumbfounded. "Who told you I would peep at Ravenclaw taking a bath? She's a married woman! And that was something I did when I was very young."
The young Gryffindor in the portrait clearly had no idea how wicked the little wizard's heart could be.
"You've been peeping at other people bathing since you were little, and then you say women slow down your sword-drawing speed? Ha! I never imagined the Gryffindor ancestor was such a shameless yellow wizard!"
"There's a reason why Gryffindor has the highest birth rate at Hogwarts!" Ian's sudden realization made the Gryffindor portrait lose its composure.
"Why are you looking at these statistics?! Are you bored out of your mind?!" The young Gryffindor raised his trembling hand and pointed at the little wizard outside the picture frame.
"Sometimes I do have some free time."
Ian nodded obediently.
The portrait of Gryffindor left One speechless.
After a long while.
He sighed deeply. "If you can find my treasure vault and come before me by your own means, I will publicly acknowledge you as a junior recognized by Gryffindor."
"This is a trial, given only to a specific group of people—" The Gryffindor portrait looked somewhat helpless. "I should have come to find you when you were in your third year."
Putting aside other things.
The mere mention of the word "treasure vault" made Ian's eyes light up.
"I'll find you by any means necessary, as long as I can do it myself." Ian knew that the adventurous Gryffindors must have left behind more than just one sword that grew stronger with each battle.
"Yes, I must remind you that you are the seventh wizard to reach the threshold, and the only one who is not a student of Gryffindor. The six challengers before you all ended up failing."
"Where I am is a place with three trials. It is not enough to just master powerful magic. On the path of the trials, you also need extraordinary swordsmanship. I think I also left swordsmanship instruction books in the Hogwarts Library, but few wizards have studied them over the years."
"Young wizards these days would rather make themselves a magical gun than learn swordsmanship. I admit it's a better way to defend yourself, but it obviously won't work in the trials I left behind. If you're really free, you might as well use that time to practice swordsmanship."
The Gryffindor portrait offered a reminder, "Of course, if you feel you don't have much talent in swordsmanship, you can also find yourself a teammate with exceptional swordsmanship."
"The friendship of your companions is also a kind of strength for you, but you will need to share some of your gains in return." Gryffindor's voice was very loud and powerful. "You have enough time to weigh whether you want to challenge yourself alone or team up with your companions, after all, it will take a lot of effort to find where I am."
He spoke with great confidence, "In fact, the young wizard who found my location the fastest took two and a half years back then. If a challenger fails to complete the trial before graduation, it will be considered a failure of the challenger's trial."
This is definitely an incredibly difficult task.
It takes two years just to find a place?
Hogwarts is such a small place!
"Are all my challenger predecessors this bad?" Ian asked in surprise as he ran towards a pile of materials he had used to make the "Book of Parsnip" the night before.
There are still some materials left.
He decided to recycle it.
"Your last challenger was Albus Dumbledore, and he didn't even get to the third challenge," Gryffindor in the portrait said with a smile.
Say something.
It was absolutely right that his main body didn't keep the record of that secret transaction on him; after all, with his big mouth, he probably couldn't keep any secrets.
"Our headmaster? He didn't even tell me that Hogwarts had such trials!" Ian gasped. It seemed that Gryffindor's trials were indeed quite terrifying.
It's important to know that Dumbledore is the most gifted wizard of modern times, bar none.
"That's because those who fail the trial don't remember ever participating in it—young wizards can't resist that kind of magic. Dumbledore wasn't nearly as powerful as he is now when he was a student." The Gryffindor portrait revealed to Ian another set of trial rules from the ancient founder.
"Did the other founders also undergo similar trials?" Ian retrieved some materials from the leftover materials from last night and took out a bone that belonged to Tom's various relatives to fiddle with.
"I have no idea."
Gryffindor's response was equally straightforward: "I'm just a portrait, not Hogwarts itself. But I doubt the other three are as enthusiastic about it as I am."
"If you have time, go dig up my grave, and maybe you'll find some of my morbid quirks." He was really bold, giving advice with a hint of anticipation even though he knew Ian liked digging up other people's graves.
Where is your grave?
Ian's curiosity was piqued.
"You'll have to find it yourself. Some people say I'm still alive in the Black Lake, which is obviously not something a portrait should know. I just remember that I've always been obsessed with giving grave robbers an interesting surprise." The Gryffindor portrait grinned wickedly as he continued to urge Ian to find his own grave.
however.
"I think I should find the treasure vault you mentioned first." Ian started frantically stirring something in a large bowl; the treasure in the vault was clearly more appealing to him than the bones of Gryffindor.
These are all figures from a thousand years ago.
Who knows if there are any bones left for him to study?
"What are you doing?"
Gryffindor curiously approached the picture frame.
"Didn't you say I'd find you by any means necessary?"
Ian removed the toad nerve that had jumped onto his face, hesitated for a moment, and then ran towards the front door. "Wait for me, okay? I'll show you my big treasure in a bit."
talking.
Under the increasingly curious gazes of Gryffindor, Ian left the Room of Requirement through the door, and a moment later, he quickly ran back with a small bowl in his hand.
"You're still here after all."
He looked a little out of breath.
"Of course I am here. Don't underestimate me just because I'm a portrait. My curiosity is just as strong as my own." The Gryffindor portrait fixed its gaze on the bowl in Ian's hand.
"Yeah, I know. I also have a friend who's similar to you." Ian breathed a sigh of relief and poured the contents of his bowl into the bowl he had been stirring vigorously.
He carefully began stirring again.
"You want to brew a potion to find me?" Just as Ian had expected, the portrait of Gryffindor appeared, and he asked with great curiosity, unable to contain his doubts.
"And what about the precious thing you said you'd show me?"
He and Pandelela Rinchen are indeed very similar in some ways; they both feel restless if their curiosity is not satisfied, which is probably a trait shared by everyone who loves adventure.
"I'm not just good at brewing potions, I'm also quite skilled in alchemy, and I've studied these portraits of you, so—" Ian asked the Room of Requirement to get him a ladder.
He brought the ladder close to the wall and climbed it to the portrait on the top.
"I also know some painter's techniques, not particularly outstanding, but it should be enough." Looking at the Gryffindor portrait that was still full of curiosity in front of him, Ian smiled brightly and began to paint with a paintbrush carved from bone, his painting skills were so good that Gryffindor could not tell what he was painting at all.
therefore.
Gryffindor moved closer to where Ian was writing.
Are you drawing animals?
He tried to make out the extra things in the portrait.
"I'm drawing a dog."
Ian nodded.
In fact, his painting skills have improved a lot, and the final products are still somewhat recognizable.
However, that vicious dog looked rather ugly.
This actually aligns fairly well with what Ian wanted to draw.
"You want it to smell my scent and then lead you to me through the connections between the portraits? That's certainly a very clever idea."
Gryffindor suddenly understood.
He chuckled and shook his head, his tone light and cheerful. "But it's useless. Even if you could give it a real dog's nose, it still wouldn't be able to smell anything on me. I am the portrait of Gryffindor, and I already anticipated that someone might try to take this kind of shortcut."
"I leave no trace of my passage, and even the greatest painters cannot discern the materials used to paint me," the young Gryffindor portrait said confidently.
He reached out to touch the vicious dog that Ian had drawn.
"~"
The vicious dog had a terrible temperament; it raised its paw to bite Gryffindor's hand. Fortunately, Gryffindor reacted quickly, otherwise he might have become a portrait missing a hand.
"You've misunderstood. I didn't draw a dog with a sensitive nose, but a dog with rabies—it just needs to chase you and follow you all the way back to where you're hiding."
Ian finally drew the dog's four legs, then suddenly "borrowed" some paint from Gryffindor and used it to paint the dog's eyes.
"No one else can attract its attention. My precious, vicious dog will only chase after you. You have to be careful, its bite really hurts."
Ian's whispered words caused Gryffindor's expression to change drastically, and he turned and ran.
A vicious dog with serrated teeth immediately followed.
The person and dog quickly passed through several paintings and disappeared into the Room of Requirement classroom. Clearly,
Godric Gryffindor, many years ago, did not apply this kind of protection to this portrait.
"Gryffindor indeed doesn't have a deep understanding of portraiture techniques."
"Hopefully, this will scare our founder's portrait so much that he'll be chased back to his safe house by my dog — Ugh, I'm starving and thirsty, I need to get something to eat."
Ian took one last look at the portrait, now devoid of human form, climbed down the ladder, and quickly left the Room of Requirement.
As soon as I stepped out the door.
He couldn't help but wrap his robe around himself tighter.
In November, the temperature at Hogwarts had already dropped below ten degrees Celsius. Even with bonfires burning everywhere, Hogwarts still felt like the depths of winter.
of course.
The temperature did not deter students from wanting to go out and have fun during the holidays. The castle corridors were extremely deserted, with only a few couples occasionally cuddling in a corner.
The others were either at the Hogsmeade Village gathering or fooling around with their companions on the lawn outside the castle. Even the studious Ravenclaw students rarely stayed in the castle during the holidays. Ian didn't plan to go to the library today either; he just wanted to eat something and then return to the Room of Requirement to learn Parsley.
"Salute to you, little Ian."
Along the way.
Ian also encountered some ghosts who had attended the banquet the night before, but their attitudes seemed a bit strange. Even the usually grumpy Blood Man Barrow was bowing to him.
"You are even more remarkable than Dumbledore."
The haughty ghost from Slytherin even exclaimed in surprise.
"Did everyone have a great time with my Skull Band?"
Ian noticed that every ghost was bowing to him, which led him to guess that he had indeed been a huge partygoer last night. However, the response from Blood Man Barrow was somewhat unexpected.
"All of us ghosts are grateful to you, not just because of the band you brought." Blood Man Barrow gave Ian a deep look, then floated into the wall next to him.
"What happened last night?" Ian racked his brains but couldn't recall what had happened last night. He found Helena Ravenclaw standing in front of his mother's portrait as always.
Helena Ravenclaw was different today. Although she was still staring blankly at Rowena Ravenclaw's portrait, her expression clearly carried a more indescribable emotion than usual.
Like other ghosts.
Helena Ravenclaw also bowed slightly to Ian before answering his question, "Little Ian,"
You performed an impossible miracle last night.
In words.
Helena Ravenclaw's voice is also full of complexity.
The way she looked at Ian was very strange.
"I brought Dementors to the party, didn't I?" Ian's hangover memories began to piece together. He remembered having a lot of fun with the ghosts and even catching a few Thestrals to take to the underground classroom. They were amazing, magical creatures that only those who had witnessed death could see.
That is precisely why.
Thestrals were once considered an unlucky symbol, said to bring all sorts of terrible disasters to those who saw them. However, Hogwarts did keep quite a few to pull carriages.
"What! You even keep Dementors?!" Helena Ravenclaw's reaction was one of utter shock and disbelief.
This explains why Ian did not bring the Dementors to the banquet.
Shh~ Keep your voice down!
Ian jumped but couldn't cover Helena Ravenclaw's mouth, not because he was too short or lacked jumping ability, but because Helena Ravenclaw dodged in time.
"I really don't know what I did to make the ghosts look at me like—like they were looking at a savior." Ian tried to find a less arrogant adjective but couldn't. He even felt that the ghosts' gazes at him were more intense and fiery than many wizards' gazes at Harry Potter.
"Oh, yes, of course. Your self-description is very accurate; even now, I can hardly believe it." Helena Ravenclaw gave Ian a deep look.
"The miracle you created is even more incredible than that little boy's miracle. Last night, you cast a special spell." The ghost Helena Ravenclaw's soft reply echoed in the corridor, dispelling Ian's doubts. "Even if it was only for one night, this magic gave ghosts the sense of taste."
Even after others told him, Ian still couldn't recall it—he felt he had to stay away from alcohol from now on, and never touch it again, even after he became an adult again.
"How come I didn't know I had this kind of magic?" Ian looked at his personal panel, but there wasn't any magic recorded there that he had thought of.
He could only think about transfiguration.
"Perhaps it wasn't magic, who knows? Anyway, you did something amazing." Helena Ravenclaw floated back to her mother's portrait.
Before Ian could even ask a question...
Her heartfelt voice then rang out.
"I should probably go see you tomorrow night. My mother just spoke to me; it's the first time her portrait has ever spoken. I always thought she never left her mark."
"Maybe she just hasn't wanted to communicate with me all these years."
Helena Ravenclaw clearly still seemed a little hesitant, but seeing that fulfilling his promise to Lady Ravenclaw was within reach, Ian immediately shook his head, which had been pondering without success, and perked up.
"Of course not! She loves you very much and has probably been waiting for you all along." He encouraged her once again, and this time, Helena Ravenclaw did not refute him as she had before.
"I still don't know how to face her, but if I really had another chance to choose, I think I would need to muster some courage that I rarely had even in my lifetime."
"I've lost my courage for far too long. After all, the last time I mustered the courage, the thing I did led to the tragedy of my life." Helena Ravenclaw began to sob again.
"Tragedy won't stay with you forever, just as regret shouldn't stay with your mother forever." Ian tried to pat Helena Ravenclaw on the shoulder.
However, his raised hand could only reach the lady's waist or buttocks. After thinking for a moment, he withdrew his hand, afraid that it would be misunderstood and cause Helena Ravenclaw to change her mind.
"Actually, I should always be wary of a beautiful little wizard like you, but my mother told me to trust you, and this time I choose to believe her."
Helena Ravenclaw turned to look at Ian.
He sighed softly.
"Of course, I also believe in the miracle of last night." Perhaps the other ghosts thought Ian had performed some special magic, but only Helena, who had been taking care of the little wizard at the time, knew the truth.
There were no obscure spells, nor was it ancient or modern magic. All that was happening was a little wizard muttering that he believed everyone had the right to enjoy delicious food on Halloween. Yes. Just my opinion, that's all.
then.
After what seemed like a casual, everyday complaint, an impossible miracle occurred.
It's like a story that only happens in a fairy tale.
absurd.
Bizarre.
With a thought-provoking meaning—