The blue of the Fiery Fire illuminated the entire corridor, like a painting, as if the scene had frozen in this moment.
Except for the sound of the Fiery Fire burning and the little wizard’s slight breathing.
There was no other sound.
Snape’s hand holding the magic wand was trembling all along.
Along the way, he had thought of many possibilities he might encounter. He had even prepared himself for the worst, thinking he might carry away Ian’s cold corpse.
Who would have thought? There was a body, still warm, just floating in the air, and the little wizard, who thought he would pay the price for his recklessness, didn’t even get a spot of dirt on him.
"Who taught you the Fiery Fire?" After a long time, Snape put down his wand, his eyes complicated, sensing a power in Ian that did not belong to a little wizard.
Even greater than that person back in the day.
"Headmaster Dumbledore praised my use of Fiery Fire as decent." Ian still didn’t betray his friends; he merely found a reason to "legally" possess the Fiery Fire, answering irrelevantly.
"Are you hoping Dumbledore will give you an award?" Snape looked angrily at the ruby on the ground, untouched by the rampant Fiery Fire.
This level of control... made him a little cold.
"A special contribution award perhaps? I think it’s possible. The guy you had me watching nearly set the whole school on fire; if I hadn’t arrived in time, he might have succeeded."
Ian glanced at Silly Barnabas’ painting.
"I can testify to that."
Silly Barnabas, while using his head to receive the Giant’s club, gave Ian a thumbs up, "When Dumbledore dies, you should take over as Hogwarts’ next headmaster; I’ve long been dissatisfied with the current academia-style education. Perhaps you could restore the glory of the wandering school of the past."
No wonder it’s a painting from more than a dozen centuries ago, this mindset is a tad unconventional. Of course, being nostalgic isn’t something to be shocked about.
"Shut up, you fool who was humiliated under the Giant’s crotch!" Snape glared fiercely at Silly Barnabas and walked to where the ruby lay quietly.
He looked at Ian.
Ian then removed the Fiery Fire around the ruby—the Fire Ash Snakes were still emerging constantly, and only this barrier formed by the Fiery Fire could protect them from the snakes’ harassment.
"What was he doing here?"
Snape picked up the gemstone from the ground and without careful examination slammed it fiercely to the ground, a wisp of red mist rising and then dispersing from the shattered gemstone.
In the next instant, the previously frenzied attacking Fire Ash Snakes suddenly scattered furiously as if reverting to their original nature of just wanting to find a safe place to lay eggs.
"What’s the principle behind this?"
Ian canceled most of the Fiery Fire.
"Was he here looking for this piece of Dark Arts product?" Snape began to understand the situation, frowning, looking at the wall where the door to the Room of Requirement had disappeared.
"No, he was looking for something else, but seeming not to find it, he tried to burn down the school in anger." Ian temporarily hid the matter of the Crown.
There was no other way, the Crown had already returned to its rightful owner, and he couldn’t explain where he had taken it. He couldn’t very well say he sold it at some shop, could he?
Damn it!
All Voldemort’s fault!
Why does Voldemort always want to stop others from focusing on their studies!
"Perhaps the thing he was looking for is nearby?"
Ian glanced at Silly Barnabas’ painting; Barnabas didn’t say anything, remembering that he couldn’t actively mention the Crown either.
"What was he looking for?" Snape pursued further.
Ian shook his head.
"He didn’t find it, just kept muttering that Dumbledore wouldn’t let him go, the Black Demon King would kill him. I guess he’s working for that person who can’t be named."
He was still only telling part of the truth.
"The Carlo Clan was once entirely followers of that person. He might have been trying to find that person’s relic, attempting to use it to revive their family." Snape’s eyes flickered slightly, thinking of something, evidently trying to dispel any doubts Ian might have.
"Remember, that person is already dead, died that night ten years ago, it’s a universally recognized history in the Wizarding World. What you heard are just the ravings of Aflisson Carlo!"
"He was influenced by the evil relics of that person!" Snape warned Ian in a slightly fierce-and-feeble manner, a trace of painful emotion flashing through his eyes.
"But, if the professors ask, where is the relic that influenced Aflisson Carlo?" Ian knew fully well that Voldemort wasn’t dead and had just hidden away, and understood that Snape had also lost his beloved that night. He didn’t want to expose Snape’s lies or tear open old wounds.
"That’s not something you should worry about. The professors can’t possibly ask you because they won’t know you’ve been here. I will cast an unspeakable curse on this damned painting!"
Snape looked at Silly Barnabas’ painting, pulled out a magic spell, and cast it directly on the painting. Barnabas’ struggle did not cause him any hesitation.
"You’re all equally bad..."
Silly Barnabas lay on the ground, looking resigned.
After so many years.
He didn’t expect to be cursed the same way again; he was just a painting. What fault did he have? It wasn’t his choice to be placed at the entrance of this place of trouble.