It was late at night.
Ian's explanations were indeed thorough and detailed, with his rock-solid foundation and total grasp over every nuance thanks to that "lifetime certificate", making the dozen or so Ravenclaw little wizards all feel that they more than got their money's worth.
They gained knowledge.
Ian collected today's silver Sickles, plus new insights for his already familiar knowledge, boosting his [Master of Potions] Skill Level by a good seven or eight points—not a small increase at all.
"See you all tomorrow! Whoever thinks this is good, just come!"
Ian waved goodbye to the little wizards, each more enthusiastic and grateful than the last, and returned to the dormitory while relishing the huge sense of accomplishment from teaching and learning so much himself.
Inside the dim dormitory.
Michael Jordan's snoring echoed endlessly, and William—who'd been scared stiff like a quail by Aurora earlier in the afternoon—wasn't buried under a desk lamp grinding away as Ian had expected, either.
He was entirely wrapped up in his own quilt, not really sleeping, more like curling himself into a tight ball that squirmed around inside every so often.
If Ian hadn't only sensed fear, unease, and a dash of... disbelief, he would've suspected his roommate was up late playing the wizarding version of the Holy Grail.
Eleven years old?
Well, kids from Europe and America do seem to hit puberty earlier.
"The descendants of German Aurors really have a deeper sense of things." Ian figured maybe William hadn't recovered from that Magic Potion class, and he might lose a precious new friend because of it.
There was nothing he could do about that.
Only time would tell if William could work it out. Ian didn't go through the old chaos of Europe, so he couldn't really empathize with the kind of upbringing William had.
"It's just past eleven at night and I'm the only one still studying in this dorm." Without a handy little lamp, Ian raised his glowing Magic Wand and got ready for another night of study under the lights.
He'd meant to read the library books tonight to look for the secrets of the Misty Illusion Realm, but the Half-blood Prince's "Advanced Potion Making" was just too tempting.
[Successfully read potion textbook, Master of Potions +3]
[Successfully read potion textbook, Master of Potions +2]
...
With Severus Snape's annotations, this rare-level Magic Potion textbook provided a learning experience far beyond what Ian could achieve on his own.
Libashu Polarchi's "Advanced Potion Making" is a textbook only used in Hogwarts N.E.W.T Level magic potion classes.
It contained all sorts of potion recipes, and Severus Snape had improved the process on many of them. Ian even spotted some fresher handwriting on the pages.
Clearly, the book had been updated and supplemented recently.
Every page dripped with the painstaking research of a Master of Magic Potions, so Ian's learning and comprehension soared by rocket speed—he quickly underwent a true transformation.
[Master of Potions (Level 3) 3/400]
This skill now matched the level of his Transformation Technique, letting Ian spot flaws in his own teaching today and giving him much sharper judgment and control when it came to potions.
"I got stronger, and I didn't even go bald."
Besides all the potion knowledge, Ian accidentally stumbled onto a few surprises: self-made Magic Spells by Snape, scrawled in the margins, proving his genius beyond doubt.
[Langlock (Level 1) 3/100]
[Muffliato (Level 0) 27/50]
[Levicorpus (Level 1) 3/100]
Direct descriptions and explanations from the actual creator—no normal textbook could compare. Ian chose the most practical Spells from those to focus on learning.
And as for the [Sectumsempra] he'd already mastered, this book had it again, but with much more detailed explanations than the little slip of parchment before, giving Ian over seventy+ points of Skill improvement.
"These are pretty much all Evil Curse Spells, and my Half-blood Prince uncle didn't cross them out?" Seeing updated notes, Ian didn't think this was just Snape being careless.
The Old Bat probably wanted Ian to learn them... which was intriguing. Maybe because Voldemort's sneaky comeback was already on the agenda for next year?
Ian wasn't too sure about that.
Or maybe he just wanted him to guard against the Saints at the school?
After all, yesterday in the Hogwarts little elf kitchen, he'd spotted Professor Roni Erich, his hand partially exposed while carrying a basin—sporting the same Golden Snitch tattoo as the bookshop owner.
Clearly a Saint.
"At the very least, he's a capable teacher. You need to be something else to be recruited by the Saints." Ian kept on studying Snape's annotated textbook until two or three in the morning.
Outside, it started raining softly.
With a bunch more Skill Level gains in the bag, Ian finally washed up and climbed into bed as quietly as he could.
Just before sleep—
He glanced at William's bed—the green-haired roommate was still curled up like a hedgehog, twitching just now and then, still very much not asleep and up to… who knows what.
Night came, dreams were sweet.
The next day.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up! Something's gone wrong!" Just like the day before, Ian was shaken awake—and opening his eyes, caught sight of Michael's big paw frozen right above him.
Thank god it didn't land.
"What happened? Did Hogwarts Castle sprout wings and fly off?" Ian rubbed his bleary eyes—this was always when his brain felt most scrambled.
"No, no, Defense Against the Dark Arts class this morning is canceled." Michael's eyes were full of fear and anxiety; he practically stammered out the news to Ian as if his life depended on it.
"I heard our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher went missing! Some say he died last night!" No need for lemonade—Michael's words woke Ian up on the spot!
"Hiss! Dead? Kicked the bucket that fast?"
Ian was stunned.
He knew Defense Against the Dark Arts was a hazardous job, but never thought the teacher would die on the very first day of school—and he was supposed to be a bona fide Saint!
Roni Erich's spirited face from last night was still fresh in his mind.
Just last night, he was praising the guy for being badass, and in less than 24 hours he's out? That's even faster than that blowhard wizard Gilderoy Lockhart crashing and burning as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!
This can't be real!
Voldemort's Curse can't work that quickly!
"This shouldn't be, this is Hogwarts after all, and he's a powerful wizard." Ian felt like he probably hadn't woken up yet and was still dreaming.
"Dead or not, definitely missing. Professor Flitwick came by to announce morning classes are canceled. The professors are all over the school looking for him." Michael's trembling voice and about-to-pop eyes looked nothing like a joke.
"I'm going to see what else I can find out."
With that—
He ran out of the dormitory.
And just as Ian was struggling to process this bombshell—
"Um… Ian?"
This is when William suddenly poked his head out from the restroom. He didn't even seem to care about the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, squirming awkwardly over to Ian's bedside.
"We're good friends, right?"
Almost a replay of yesterday's scene.
"Of course."
Ian figured William must've gotten over things.
"So…"
William got even more hesitant—his face both nervous and conflicted, like struggling deep inside. He spoke in a low voice, with a sobby undertone.
"Can you introduce me to join the new generation of wizard supremacists… the Saints? My granddad said last night that if I don't join you, he'll have my dad kill me when he gets home."
"And I think he's serious."
The sobbing was getting intense.
And boom—another completely absurd moment for Ian to be blown away by!
What the—!
Your grandpa's a German Auror, right?!
Getting you to apply for party membership?
Ian dazedly pinched his own face.
He honestly felt like he really, REALLY woke up on the wrong side of bed today!