newbobooks Chapter 98, Section 97: Strolling Among the Stars, The Tragedy of Passion
Chapter 98, Section 97: Strolling Among the Stars, The Tragedy of Passion
The afternoon class was History of Magic.
Ian chose to skip class.
It wasn't that he had any problem with getting a good night's sleep all afternoon; he just didn't want to feel out of place in the dorm, especially since his two roommates had also skipped an afternoon class the day before.
Moreover, if Ian doesn't experience skipping class now, it will obviously be a waste to choose to skip it later when he has to attend several classes a day. After all, Ian can tell the difference between skipping class once for an entire afternoon and skipping class twice for an entire afternoon.
Unlike most young wizards who skip class just to rest or play, Ian spent the entire afternoon in the Room of Requirement, tinkering with and studying Morgan Witch's potion recipes.
The tradition of aphrodisiacs has a very long history.
The finished aphrodisiac shimmers with a pearly luster and has a unique spiraling vapor rising from it.
Its scent varies from person to person, and will present different aromas in different people's minds according to individual preferences. A highly skilled apothecary can even induce extremely strong feelings of affection in the user.
No one has yet been able to create that truly unbreakable emotion that can be called love, and Ian doesn't think Morgan's formula can improve this shortcoming.
It may not be an aphrodisiac.
However, it can never bring true love, which is why love potions are listed as prohibited drugs. Love potions only make the user develop an extremely strong attachment to someone.
Even if the effects of the love potion were long-lasting, it would probably be about the same as the effect of money... Ian despised such things, but that didn't stop him from analyzing some aspects of potions. As the saying goes, practice makes perfect; to analyze the knowledge he wanted to gain, Ian had to pay attention to the effects of changing each potion ingredient.
"Gurgle~ gurgle~ gurgle~"
The classroom was filled with a unique herbal scent, mixed with a mysterious fragrance that stirred the soul.
That was the unique fragrance emitted during the brewing process of the aphrodisiac. Compared to the traditional methods of brewing aphrodisiacs popular today, Morgan's recipe obviously didn't require three months of brewing time.
of course.
The trade-off is that the cost of the ingredients used in the potions will increase significantly. This is already a modified recipe by Morgan the Witch, but Ian still couldn't find all the ingredients in the Potions classroom. He had to go to Uncle Snape's office again, which only solved the problem of most of the ingredients.
"Some fresh ingredients can probably only be found in that place." Ian glanced at the Dementor standing beside him, wearing an elf apron and looking like a chef. "You keep an eye on this pot. Don't let the fire go out, and don't let the bottom get smaller or bigger."
Faced with such a complex command.
The Dementors, which looked somewhat adorably hellish, immediately floated over—perhaps their species wasn't unintelligent, but rather unfamiliar with the "foreign language" of the real world.
The Dementors at least understood Ian's commands clearly and carried them out correctly, pressing their faces, hidden beneath the cloak, directly against the fire.
It cannot see the flame.
But the temperature can obviously be sensed.
"Work hard, and I'll bring you Ron's Scabbers next year." Ian wasn't intentionally making empty promises; he simply hadn't seen Peter Pettigrew in the Gryffindor dorms. Although the Animagus wouldn't be given to Ron until next year, it was clear that Ron's older brother was already starting to look down on his aging mouse this year.
I don't know if he felt embarrassed to say it in front of the girl he liked—after all, it's normal to take a girl to see cats do somersaults, but who has ever heard of taking a girl to see mice do somersaults?
"Sigh, if I had known we could catch a Pokémon, I wouldn't have taken Voldemort on that voyage to the Mystic Realm."
Ian first went to the elves' kitchen.
He then checked the materials he still lacked, used the Marauder's Map to bypass the professors' area of activity, and after leaving the castle, he ran towards the Forbidden Forest.
to be frank.
Ian really wanted to learn Snape's rocket-like magic. It might not be as impressive as the magic cloak, but it would definitely have a unique advantage in terms of traveling and running away.
We traversed the grasslands.
He soon arrived at the cabin on the edge of the forbidden forest.
The cabin looked quite old, with wood of varying shades, overgrown with weeds, yet it coexisted harmoniously with the surrounding lush woods. The roof was covered with thick moss and a few tenacious clusters of wildflowers.
Besides some common farm tools, there were also several crossbows and other cold weapons at the entrance, and the oversized rubber overshoes made Ian feel like he could even stick his head inside to explore.
"It could also be seen as suicide."
Ian first deliberately opened half of his backpack, revealing incredibly fresh meat inside.
Then she hugged the prepared bread and some biscuits to her chest.
Get ready.
He knocked on the door of the cabin.
"Who would be looking for me at this hour? Tooth, stop barking, this isn't the Forbidden Forest." Amidst a barking chorus, a rough voice drew ever closer to the gate.
As the door was opened.
Hagrid, with his full beard, came into Ian's view. He was the Hogwarts key keeper, the gamekeeper, and Dumbledore's most loyal assistant and friend.
Although Hagrid lost his qualifications and enrollment as a wizard due to Voldemort's framing and persecution in his youth, this also made him one of the richest people at Hogwarts.
This is probably true throughout the entire wizarding world—a unicorn's tail hair can sell for 10 on the black market.
One Galleon, but what does Hagrid usually use it for?
He would use it as a bandage. You could say that although Hagrid's cabin is just a wooden house, many of the things piled up inside are valuable materials.
"Professor Hagrid! I'm Ian Prince. Do you remember me? When I enrolled this year by Black Lake, you praised me as your favorite little one."
Ian picked up the cookies and bread in his hands. The half-giant in front of him was over three meters tall, and he looked like a chick next to Hagrid.
"Oh, yes, of course I remember you, hahaha, you're the only little guy who calls me Professor." Hagrid accepted Ian's gift with a happy expression on his face.
"You even brought me a gift! That's so touching!" Hagrid placed his large hand on Ian's head again, the potential danger to his skull intensifying once more.
He might have been genuinely moved, but Ian was hesitant to move.
"I also brought some extra food for your dog. It's still growing and needs to eat a lot of meat." Ian felt like his hair could become a chicken coop after being rubbed by the half-giant. He quickly took the bag full of meat off his back and handed it to Hagrid while he was wiping his nose.
"You even thought of Toothpaste! Good heavens! Dumbledore always told me you were a good boy, and I think he was right!"
Hagrid was immediately moved to tears.
Ian clearly won his favor.
"I just don't have anything to give you in return. Perhaps you'd like some rock cakes?" Hagrid wanted to go back inside to get something, but hesitated, unwilling to move aside the door that was blocked by his body.
Perhaps worried that the young wizard in front of him would think he was impolite, he used the "fierce but cute" dog that had already hidden under the bed to explain his behavior with a guilty expression.
"Toothie is a Neapolitan, very fierce, yes, very fierce, and he hates strangers, yes, yes, that's it—so I'm worried he might hurt you." Hagrid was clearly not a very good liar; he spoke in a manner that violated every taboo against lying.
His eyes darted around, his speech was repetitive, his movements were unnatural, and most importantly, he even twitched his nose. Even Ian, who didn't have the supernatural ability of "thought perception," could tell that he was lying.
"It's alright, I won't go in, and I'm not hungry right now." Ian didn't want to hurt his teeth, nor did he want to make things difficult for Hagrid. "I just wanted to ask you for a favor. I hope you can take me to the Forbidden Forest to find some materials. I need some St. John's wort and belladonna extract, as well as unicorn saliva."
As everyone knows, the Forbidden Forest is the backyard of the Big Four, and it contains everything imaginable. Ian could certainly go in and search on his own, but he's clearly not as familiar with the various layouts of the Forbidden Forest as the locals. If Hagrid could be his guide, gathering the necessary materials might save a lot of time.
"Child, first-year students are not allowed to go to the Forbidden Forest. It's extremely dangerous. Even for adult wizards, there are many creatures in the Forbidden Forest that could kill them." Upon hearing the words "Forbidden Forest,"
Hagrid's expression immediately turned serious. What he needed to guard against most were the young wizards who were curious about the Forbidden Forest.
As he spoke, Hagrid placed Ian's gift on the shelf by the cabin door and then returned the backpack to Ian. Throughout this process, he used his body to block the door.
"I just need some materials to make potions," Ian quickly put on a pitiful look. "I have some special potion-making assignments to complete, and if I don't finish them, I might be doomed. You know, some potions teachers really don't make any sense."
Ian did not lie.
The art of language lies in seemingly plausible truths.
"It really is Snape! He'll definitely put you in solitary confinement! Dumbledore says he's your uncle, but I bet this guy cares least about family!" Hagrid said indignantly. He had no liking for Snape, but the fact that Ian was being "harassed" immediately made him feel sorry for him.
"I still can't take you to the Forbidden Forest, that's the rule at Hogwarts. But I can help you collect some pumpkins there, provided you stay obediently in that pumpkin patch over there." Hagrid stepped out of the cabin door, and before Ian could even see inside, he had already quickly turned around and closed the door.
"Okay, no problem."
Ian seemed to be deep in thought.
They obediently followed Hagrid to the pumpkin patch outside the cabin. Because Halloween was approaching, the area was already covered with pumpkins that looked as if they had been injected with growth hormones, which was why.
"Really, my dog is fierce. Don't even think about sneaking in; it will definitely bite you," Hagrid warned Ian with some unease as he carried several large buckets toward the Forbidden Forest.
"I'm terrified of dogs."
Ian reassured Hagrid. Watching Hagrid's massive body recede into the distance and disappear at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest, he immediately squatted down in the pumpkin patch and started catching caterpillars.
This is actually a potion ingredient. Having already come this far, Ian used the backpack Hagrid had returned to him and began searching the pumpkin patch for fresh caterpillars.
Time flies.
Just when Ian felt he was about to become a caterpillar hunter, Hagrid returned carrying several large buckets full. This half-giant was the real frog killer.
When Ian saw the huge bucket of frog brains, he was completely dumbfounded. He was worried that Hagrid might have killed all the frogs in the Forbidden Forest.
"Actually, it doesn't need that much."
Ian was completely dumbfounded.
"It's just a piece of cake. Young wizards usually fail many times when they try to brew potions. I almost never succeeded when I was in school. The potion that Snape used to make things difficult for you will definitely be hard to make." As he spoke, Hagrid handed several large barrels to Ian. In addition to a barrel of brains, there were also more than half a barrel each of St. John's wort and belladonna extract.
"Unicorns are rare creatures; I only encountered the two I knew today." Hagrid then pulled out a bottle the size of a water glass from his pocket. A bottle full of unicorn saliva—it was hard not to suspect that Hagrid had some special way of getting unicorns to spit at him.
"Thank you, Professor Hagrid!"
Ian carefully placed the bottle inside his robe.
Hagrid scratched his head. "While I like how you address me, I'm really not a professor. In fact, I was expelled from Hogwarts many years ago."
His voice sounded somewhat sad.
"You don't necessarily need a degree to become a professor. I believe that in the field of magical creatures..."
Your knowledge is sufficient to qualify you for a position at any magic school.
"You are happy to help young wizards in need; how can you say that this isn't something a professor would do? Any school would feel honored to have such a learned and kind professor as you."
That was Ian's honest opinion.
If Hagrid's personality were slightly less careless and absent-minded, he would almost certainly be considered one of the most outstanding professors in the Department of Protecting Magical Creatures.
"You're making me almost believe in myself! Hahahaha! I always thought I only liked Gryffindor, but now it seems Ravenclaw is a good house too!" Hagrid grinned from ear to ear, and then used his big hand to pat Ian's head, messing up Ian's carefully styled hair again.
"It's all true! I think you'll definitely become our professor, it's just a matter of time." Ian decisively escaped Hagrid's clutches by crouching down.
His words filled Hagrid with longing and joy. "If I could really become a professor at Hogwarts, I would definitely give you a dragon egg! Yes! A dragon egg!"
He clearly didn't believe such a possibility, otherwise he certainly wouldn't have made such a promise. Deep down, the towering half-giant harbored an inferiority complex that many couldn't perceive.
"Yes! Yes! You said it!" Ian's eyes lit up. If he could find Dumbledore on the Marauder's Map, he would have rushed back to give Dumbledore a letter of recommendation.
The wizarding world is also a society based on personal connections.
Dumbledore himself promised that the Dumbledore family was part of Ian's network.
"Of course!" Hagrid's beard trembled with laughter. He looked at the setting sun and said, "If you're free during the day, you can come visit me. We'll definitely become friends. But you should hurry back to the castle now, or the real professors there will punish you."
A very kind reminder.
Ian picked up the materials in large and small buckets.
"Professor Hagrid."
He suddenly stopped before leaving, turned around and looked at Hagrid, who had already reached the gate and seemed to be waiting for him to leave completely before daring to open the door of his cabin.
"I think I can definitely get your dragon egg, but you have to stay alive before that." Ian's earnest words left Hagrid completely bewildered.
"Huh? What's wrong with me?"
He even touched his entire body to make sure he didn't have any wounds. Ian blinked and tried to offer a gentle reminder in a nonchalant voice.
"You can't keep a venomous unicorn in the house—people really do die very quickly." He didn't sneak into the house; he had actually noticed Hagrid when he opened the door.
"Ya Ya keeps barking, but it's not because it's afraid of me."
Done.
Ian then turned and ran toward the castle.
Hagrid was left alone, his face flushed, standing there somewhat flustered and at a loss.
A house that grants every request.
In the special potions classroom, Ian, who had rushed back, kept a close eye on the changes in the cauldron, adjusting the heat from time to time to ensure that the potion could react as expected.
"Gurgle~ gurgle~ gurgle~"
The crucible is bubbling.
Ian stood in front of the cauldron where potions were being brewed, carefully mixing the potion ingredients in his hands.
He stretched out his hand, and the Dementors beside him automatically handed him potions in the order he had arranged—a scene that would absolutely astound any other wizard, but there was no one else in the house where the potions were always granted.
"I need those spoons over there, not the knife, you idiot! Can't you even remember their shapes?" Ian understood how Snape felt during class, but he figured he'd eventually raise a Dementor who could brew his own potions, the kind that would make the silly Barnabas outside green with envy.
The Dementor was extremely aggrieved.
However, he still followed instructions and found a spoon—the kind bigger than Ian's head. This was still progress, and Ian could only use this spoon to scoop up the prepared ingredients, put them into the crucible, and stir vigorously—this was already the sixth batch. Ian was constantly trying to adjust the recipe to find the possibility he needed.
The more you study it.
The more Ian realized that what Ms. Morgan really wanted to teach was hidden in the formula of this love potion, it made perfect sense, since Ms. Morgan wouldn't have needed to tear off her own dress if it was just a prank.
"The fairy grass is the plant that nurtures the flower-gathering fairy. Currently, there are only a very small number of fairy grasses left in East Asia. Teacher Mara obviously did not see this in the textbook I gave her."
Ian's sixth potion-making attempt has run into a problem: he's used up all of Snape's fairy herbs. To continue researching this potion, he needs to find a substitute, just like Morgan improved the recipe. His potion-making skills aren't high enough, so finding a substitute on his own is clearly no easy task.
"Perhaps the answer that has already been discovered can be found in that book, 'Modern Applications of Ancient Potions'," Ian thought of the Hogwarts library as he pondered this dilemma.
He rushed out of the Room of Requirement again, and seeing that it was almost closing time, he quickly ran to the library—if all else failed, he would probably have to ask the Half-Blood Prince for help. After discovering some oddities in the recipe, Ian couldn't wait for his holiday to go to Diagon Alley to buy the ingredients.
"Thank goodness it wasn't closed!" Ian went straight to the potions section after entering the library, only to find that a book he had seen before was no longer on the shelf.
It has been adjusted?
Was it borrowed again?
"Ms. Pince, could you please check if the book 'Modern Applications of Ancient Potions' is still in the library?" After searching unsuccessfully, Ian turned to the librarian for help.
however.
Before Mrs. Pince, who was reading Lockhart's masterpiece, could even look up and answer.
"Is this the book you're looking for?"
A young wizard sitting at his reading desk suddenly spoke. Ian turned his head and saw that the book "Modern Applications of Ancient Potions" was in the young wizard's hands.
He was clearly reading.
"Yes—it seems you've already borrowed it before me." Ian thought to himself that he was a step too slow.
Before he could even ask a question, the young wizard stood up, closed the book, walked over, and handed it to him.
"I'm just killing time. You seem to have an urgent need, and as a professor at Hogwarts, I obviously can't compete with a junior wizard for the right to use these books."
The young wizard wore a gentle smile; he had long, bushy brown hair.
Her hair was braided into simple braids and fell naturally over her shoulders.
"Are you a professor?"
Ian immediately changed his form of address. He found it hard to believe that this young wizard in front of him, who looked to be only in his twenties, could actually hold a professorship at Hogwarts.
I don't know which subject he teaches, but it's definitely not a major subject.
"If you can achieve excellent grades in Charms, Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration in the 0.WLs exams in fifth grade, you will be able to participate in elective courses taught by me in sixth grade." The young wizard smiled slightly, and the mustache below his nose relaxed.
He looked like a quiet scholar, yet he possessed a very composed demeanor. His chrome-green eyes were similar to Ian's, but his gaze was much deeper.
"You are Professor Arthur King!" Ian was somewhat surprised. He had always thought that the alchemy professor he admired should be a wizard who was not much younger than Dumbledore.
After all, this is a discipline that requires time and experience to accumulate.
"It seems you are indeed very interested in alchemy. Most junior wizards don't pay attention to senior electives; they're more concerned with whether they'll be held back at the end of the semester." Arthur King chuckled, his tone incredibly humorous, and he exuded a calmness far beyond his years.
"I've been studying alchemy, Professor. I think it's unreasonable to make this course an elective. How can alchemy be promoted if young wizards can't get proper interest guidance?" Ian was actually speaking up for himself. What he desperately needed was a teacher who could guide him in alchemy at any time.
Dumbledore might be a suitable candidate, but he hasn't been seen on the Marauder's Map for two days. This old man really isn't afraid of Voldemort taking advantage of the situation at all. Well, it seems that there's really nothing to worry about with Dumbledore, after all, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at the school is a really ruthless person now.
"Young wizard, alchemy has a threshold. If a wizard doesn't have enough background knowledge, he will only have a worse experience in this course than studying the history of magic." Professor Arthur King's voice was teasing but not arrogant, as if he were stating a very simple trivial matter.
"I think my knowledge base is pretty good. I can even show you my invention, the 'Housewife's Happiness Box.' Could I possibly audit one of your classes sometime?"
Ian spoke with anticipation, suggesting a more comforting name for his only work. He certainly didn't want the Hogwarts teachers to see him as a second Tom.
This school has a history of post-traumatic stress disorder.
"Want to learn alchemy from me?"
Arthur King looked him over and responded in a slightly thoughtful tone, "Under normal circumstances, I would definitely not want to accept a student your age, but your map making is quite good, which has piqued my interest. Perhaps you can become a little wizard that I can make an exception for."
His words startled Ian slightly.
"What map—"
Ian gave a slightly guilty smile.
He never expected that Arthur King would know that the things he sold must have been a mole among Cho Chang's friends, even though he had already instructed Cho Chang to publicly claim that the contraband came from James Potter.
The young professor seemed to sense the doubt in Ian's mind.
"Alchemical creations always retain the traces of their creators. Tracing the creator is not difficult; even Master Nicolas Flamel could not erase these traces." Arthur King placed his hand on Ian's shoulder, and Ian noticed a bronze ring on the professor's finger.
Before Ian could examine the inscriptions on the ring closely, Arthur King withdrew his hand. "If I may, I'd like to ask about your progress in alchemy."
Upon hearing this question, Ian immediately perked up. "I have already finished studying Nicolas Flamel's 'The Alchemy of the Mind' and 'The Amazing Alchemy'."
"In fact, I've already started learning how to apply Transfiguration to alchemy." Ian never hides his progress or pretends to be a weakling when it comes to his studies.
"Um?"
Arthur King was visibly stunned for a moment.
"Only a tiny bit slower than me back then—that's really weird." Arthur King muttered to himself, then immediately looked up at Ian and said, "But being a genius is just the threshold to entering the field of alchemy. To gain my approval, you need more than just a genius."
Arthur King smiled and said, "If you can figure out the House of Requirement by next year, my office door will be open for you next semester."
This was yet another unexpected remark from Ian.
The Room of Requirement at Hogwarts is not a secret known to everyone.
Furthermore—how is it any different from letting a first-year wizard understand the principles of the Room of Requirement? It's like letting an elementary school student learn 1+1 and then sending them to study string theory!
"I feel like you're deliberately trying to make things difficult for me," Ian sensed that this incredibly young alchemy professor was not as easy to talk to as he appeared.
The methods used to deal with other professors are unlikely to be effective.
"Keep it up, kid. If you can't reach a level that others can only dream of, what right do you have to take up my time? My job is just to teach the students of the age limit set by Hogwarts, and all I get is a salary." Arthur King chuckled and walked towards the library door.
"If you want me to make an exception for you, you'll have to become more than just my student; you'll have to become my apprentice—this isn't directed at you personally, it's just that I've always had very high standards in this regard."
"It has been like this for many years—if you can prove you deserve to walk among the stars, believe me."
"I can teach you much more than just alchemy."
The alchemy professor's figure disappeared around the corner of the doorway, his dark green robe flowing gracefully.
Ian was quite annoyed to encounter a young professor who was even more pretentious than Grindelwald, but fortunately, the book "Modern Applications of Ancient Potions" did provide him with a substitute for the fairy herb.
As it turns out, modern wizards are not without their talents. The fact that they were able to use a mixture of two common herbs to replace the effects of the fairy herb is, in Ian's opinion, a truly brilliant innovation.
"I would crown this Potions Master as the King of Love Potions!" Ian glanced at the map, confirmed Snape was in the Great Hall, and immediately slipped away to Snape's office with practiced ease.
This is the real four-dimensional pocket of the potion-themed Doraemon. As long as the materials are not extinct or rare, you can always find the corresponding collection in Snape's office.
"This, this, and that—this probably won't be enough either." To avoid running back and forth repeatedly, Ian replenished all the materials that had already been used up.
A big bag.
It's packed full of potion ingredients.
Just as Ian was preparing to take the potion ingredients back to the House of Requirement to study Morgan's recipe all night, he had only just turned the doorknob when he felt another force turning the handle from the outside.
"hiss!""
Ian had no time to hide. The door was opened by someone outside, and when he looked up, he saw Snape's face. Snape was clearly not surprised that Ian was in his office.
"How come you're back so fast!" Ian tried to hide the large bag behind his back, but Snape grabbed it and snatched it away.
The Potions professor had a very unpleasant expression on his face.
"Of course, it's to catch you!"
obviously.
Ian fell into Snape's trap of letting him lower his guard.
"I discovered someone was stealing my things this afternoon! And sure enough! I caught them red-handed!" Snape's expression was extremely distorted, and his furious appearance was quite frightening.
"Uncle, I clearly did—I did pay."
Ian quickly turned around and pointed to Snape's materials cabinet. He saw that among the medicines that Snape had taken, there were more or less Galleons.
Market price.
The young man is not deceived.
But Snape's expression turned even uglier as a result.
"Why do you think I'd know it was you?!" Snape roared, trembling with rage. He pulled the Galleons Ian had left behind that afternoon from his robes. "Other bastards who steal my stuff don't leave this junk behind! Prince! Should I even compliment you on being a decent human?"
Good guy.
Ian had absolutely no idea how to refute this.
"That's Galleon, not some ghost..."
He could only correct Snape's blasphemous attitude toward money.
"I didn't want to deal with your insolent behavior!" Snape glared at Ian through gritted teeth.
Those eyes looked like they wanted to devour Ian alive.
"But why did you let me smell the scent of brewing aphrodisiacs in the hallway!" He opened Ian's bag and checked the amount of materials in Ian's pockets.
Do not see do not know.
one look.
Snape almost dropped Ian's pocket.
"Damn it! How many pots did you cook?!"
His terrified voice filled the entire basement.