"Now, Aoba, carefully observe the current constellation, then answer me..." The Centaur Leader withdrew his gaze and turned to look at the young member of his tribe.
"This is because human wizards are trying to achieve ascension! No matter if they succeed or not, they even dare to touch the taboo of ascension—you want to compete with such a clan in madness?"
In the tranquil forest.
Ancient oaks and evergreen shrubs swayed in the night breeze, casting gentle shadows.
The Centaur Leader's words received no response.
Unlike the wild and unruly image in the rumors, there was not a trace of courage visible on these centaurs at the moment. All they had was a silence that could not mask their fear and anxiety.
"May the so-called 'angel' destined by fate not be born within Hogwarts; only then might we hope to gain untroubled peace in the coming turmoil."
...
After sending Aurora back to the Slytherin Common Room, Ian silently memorized the password to Slytherin's common room door—who knew, seemingly useless knowledge might come in handy someday.
"See you tomorrow… and stop thinking about eating little elves. If you eat the little elves, who's going to cook for us? Friendly creatures are off-limits, including those round, plump chickens at Hogwarts."
Who knows if Aurora actually listened to his repeated reminders.
On the way back, Ian fished around in his bulging robes. Aurora had stuffed three eggs into his hands, each with a blue-green pattern on the shell.
In the corridor at night.
These eggs, only a bit bigger than chicken eggs, emitted a faint green glow—some light, some dark—almost like breathing, brimming with the sense that life was about to surge forth.
Maybe these eggs were Curled Wing Demon's midnight snacks, stolen from somewhere, or maybe they were laid by the Curled Wing Demon itself. Ian figured the latter was more likely.
After all, even if a Curled Wing Demon lost its master and gained its freedom, it shouldn't attack Aurora so wildly—unless it had never met Aurora with its master before.
"Most likely, it's trying to protect its eggs. But they're glowing—could be radioactive." Ian held the suspected Curled Wing Demon egg up to his nose and sniffed.
There was a very, very particular smell. With his years of dining experience, Ian would bet this taste would go amazingly with tomatoes and a pinch of minced garlic.
"And a bit of chopped green onion..."
Ian swallowed hard—probably Aurora's bad influence.
If he didn't know how expensive Fantastic Beasts' eggs were, he might've detoured to the kitchen again. Alas, an empty wallet kept Ian from drafting his new book series, Fantastic Beasts in the Pot. Playing with the three special eggs in his hand, Ian returned to his dorm safely without a hitch.
Would hatching them and selling the creatures make them even more valuable?
Or maybe he could raise them himself, and have endless generations?
"These count as restricted contraband by the Ministry of Magic. Probably only in Knockturn Alley could they be sold on the sly. Maybe tomorrow night, I'll bring them into the Misty Illusion Realm to raise them."
"Judging by the time flow in the Illusion Realm... Tsk, I might really have a shot at becoming a Master of Fantastic Beasts Breeding." Ian found a destination for the three Curled Wing Demon eggs.
He carefully put the eggs into his trunk, cast a few concealing spells, and finally started washing up, reassured by the sound of his roommates' snores.
Before going to bed, Ian noticed that Snape and Dumbledore were still not far from each other. The two really must have a close friendship, already playing hide-and-seek in the castle outside the office at this hour.
"Middle-aged men and old men's energy levels are better than mine."
He yawned sleepily.
After a quick wash, Ian soon drifted off to sleep—already adept at Dream Control, he had one extra perk over other little wizards: he could decide his own adventures in dreams, freely.
"Damn it! We're here to rescue the princess! Why did you throw the princess into the pot too!!"
Morning at Hogwarts.
When the first rays of shy sunlight crept into the ancient castle, the whole world seemed to awaken in this gentle and mysterious light. The sky faded from deep blue to delicate pink-purple, then burst into dazzling gold, as if Mother Nature's palette had spilled brilliant colors over the world anew.
"Good morning."
"We have Defense Against the Dark Arts class today!"
"And the new teacher is the famous Lockhart! My mom and dad got divorced because of him!" Students began to shuffle out of the dorms.
The little wizards' laughter, conversations, roughhousing, even the sound of couples kissing, all mixed together. Some were probably still rubbing their sleepy eyes, but others were already refreshed and ready to tackle the new day's lessons and challenges. This was the difference between the slackers and the overachievers, evident from birth.
"Smack!"
"Smack!"
Ian must have been one of the last to fall asleep last night, but thanks to the mild psychological shadow Aurora left him, even though he could control his dreams, his dreamscape veered off in unpredictable directions.
This meant Ian woke unusually early, though it wasn't all bad—after all, in Ian's dorm, the first to rise was allowed the pleasure of doling out two slaps.
When Ian woke his roommate and walked out of the common room, he saw others enjoying the same kind of fun. Right across from him, a girl slapped a boy's face with gusto.