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Someone was blatantly cheating.
Ian couldn't continue playing this magical version of [Fight the Sorcerer King], a wizard's take on Chinese poker, anymore. He was deeply curious how the black-robed skeleton could just change its cards at will.
However, Ian found it hard to analyze this "wishcraft" method, which was fundamentally different from conventional magic. And he couldn't get any answers from the black-robed skeleton either.
"I… don't have a brain, I don't know."
Whenever faced with any question that required thought, the skeleton would confidently raise a finger bone and point at its empty skull.
"…"
Ian was at a total loss. He felt the same helplessness and frustration a sane person might feel when dealing with a mentally unstable individual.
"You don't have a brain, yet you still know how to cheat! You must've been even worse when you were alive!" Ian could only vent his anger with some snappy comebacks.
But the black-robed skeleton remained completely unbothered.
"I'm still alive… If you give me flesh and blood, I'll admit I'm very, very, very bad."
Not only did it not feel insulted, it actually took the opportunity to bring up the same request to Ian again.
These past few days, as long as it got the chance, the black-robed skeleton would repeatedly mention the topic of granting it flesh and blood. However, Ian had already tried using meat obtained from the house-elves.
It didn't stick.
It wasn't just that butchered pork, lamb, or beef couldn't attach to the skeleton; even the live poultry he had painstakingly bought from Hogsmeade didn't work. He had even crossed a moral line to study some flesh-related dark magic.
Fortunately, the book "Secrets of Dark Magic" had some relevant spells. Otherwise, if Ian had to look them up in the library, who knows if Albus Dumbledore would start suspecting him of engaging in some shady business.
"We've already tried that, haven't we! I'm one step away from grabbing some living humans for you. Just look at your own bones, no flesh-granting magic works on your body at all!" Ian was extremely annoyed by the skeleton's constant nagging, which is why he had tried so many different methods.
But all of them had failed due to the skeleton's magic-resistant nature. So even if he really went and got living humans, Ian figured the result would be the same.
"Magic… not…" The skeleton's speech system, if it could be called that, still seemed damaged. Despite having been in the human world for so long, it still sounded broken and awkward.
"Same as before, give it some thought. I can build you a mechanical brain, a mecanical synthetic skin, and other matching metal organs. Flesh is weak. Rise with the machine, my iron dude." Ian glanced at the messy card table. The moment his eyes shifted, the Dementor instantly caught the cue and began cleaning up.
From a once wild and unruly monster, it had now been trained by Ian to have both the intelligence and emotional awareness of a ten-year-old child. Given a little more time, it could probably be sent out to earn money.
"Flesh… is loved…"
The black-robed skeleton was completely unmoved by Ian's repeated offers. It seemed obsessively attached to the flesh it had lost. After the game, it began muttering again beside Ian's ear.
Ian ignored it.
He went straight to a corner of the room, there, a carefully kiln-fired ceramic flowerpot had been sitting for some time. It was a self-sufficient product Ian had molded, painted, and glazed with his own hands.
All because of the outrageous prices for flowerpots in Hogsmeade, Ian had to make his own. The outside of the pot was decorated with minimalist linework, giving people a sense of design alongside the greenery. The patterns were actually magical runes Ian had drawn.
The effect was simple: these magical texts provided necessary growth conditions for plants, allowing them to perform photosynthesis without needing to be placed outside in the sun, and what was being grown in that pot wasn't some ordinary plant like windgrass. It was a mysterious seed Ian had acquired from the tower in the Twilight Zone.
"Hurry up and sprout for me. Once you do, I'll water you with potions."
Back in the tower, Ian had felt a strong premonition: this seed, buried in the Twilight Zone alongside the tower for who knows how many years yet still full of vitality, was anything but ordinary.
He truly believed that once it sprouted, it would bring him a big surprise.
No matter what,
There was definitely something up with the seed from the tower.
Even after Ian had combed through countless books on magical plants in the Hogwarts library and had even consulted Professor Pomona Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff House, all the answers he received were the same: no known plant's seed could retain vitality for centuries after being removed from its growth conditions.
The sheer vitality of this seed was something no one could explain. Not only had it been stored in the tower for who knows how long, but the environment it had been kept in was the Twilight Zone, a world of the dead.
And yet it had not withered or decayed in the slightest. Still lush and vibrant green, it brimmed with life. Given that, Ian's hope that it might grow into a world tree wasn't exactly unreasonable.
Of course, he was also prepared for the plant to be difficult to cultivate. After all, it had been buried in the soil for quite some time now, yet showed no signs of sprouting.
"As long as you don't make me wait ten or twenty years, I'll wait for you," Ian muttered to the flowerpot as he watered it, a textbook example of someone who forgets their old flame when a new one appears. It wasn't that he was bored out of his mind when alone, but rather, he genuinely believed in the metaphysics of "emotional value."
After all, even some alchemical artifacts lasted longer when loved by their owners. So how could a wondrous magical plant be any different? Ian had personally witnessed his good roommate William curse out his copying quill once, and the very next day, that quill conveniently broke.
It might not be scientific. It might not be logical. But it was definitely mystical… and believing in it a little wouldn't hurt. Ever since Ian brought up this theory, William had been praising every single one of his belongings, and sure enough, none of them had broken down again since.
"What are you guys doing?"
Ian had just finished watering and applying his homemade organic fertilizer when he turned and saw the black-robed skeleton hitting the Dementor.
The Dementor could only flee with its head in its hands, not daring to fight back.
(To Be Continued…)