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Dust motes danced freely in the dim light, like tiny, wandering ghosts. Hermione, Ron, and Neville stood huddled at a corridor corner, their expressions a mix of frustration and worry. Their hushed argument had reached a boiling point, revolving entirely around the baffling changes in Harry Potter.
When it came to figuring out how to investigate what exactly had happened to Harry, the discussion perfectly showcased pure, unfiltered recklessness, especially since Ron, the champion of this "reckless movement," was now completely incapable of hiding his intentions.
As facts would prove, Ron Weasley's Gryffindor lineage was as pure as could be. No wonder his family had been famous for their righteous bravery for eighteen generations.
Just look at him.
Seriously, look.
Even though he could barely cast a decent Levitation Charm, he still had the nerve to drag along two friends to investigate a wizard powerful enough to deceive Albus Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard alive, someone capable of secretly harming or even replacing Harry Potter right inside Hogwarts.
Out of the three of them, the most capable was Hermione, and right now, the only spell she could confidently cast was Incendio. And even that produced just a tiny flicker of flame, barely enough to roast a sausage, let alone be used in a proper fight.
Yet, with such a "team composition," Ron actually dared to pull the other two along to uncover the so-called "truth"!
You had to admit, among Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, Ron might not have been the most effective adventurer, but he was definitely the "mentor" who led everyone else down the most impulsive path.
Sure enough, Hermione frowned, trying to talk sense into Ron. "Ron, we can't just act on guesses like this. We should ask for help. We're only first-year students!"
At this point, Hermione still retained a few shreds of rationality and judgment, befitting a true study tyrant.
"Harry is our friend," she continued. "We can't just stand by and watch him fall into danger. Even if Ian and Harry are close, he should still understand how serious this could be."
Hermione was following a sound line of logic, but she was about to be led astray.
Ron stubbornly shook his head, his face set. "No. I'm absolutely not going to him. You've got a filter on when it comes to Ian. My two older brothers both said he's the most loyal guy they know."
"He'll definitely tell Harry about it if we say anything. Then, once Harry finds out we've noticed something wrong, we'll be in danger."
Ron Weasley was truly a man of contradictions. Just a short while ago, he'd been suspicious of Ian, and even his own older brothers, yet now, he believed his brothers' opinion of Ian without a shred of doubt. Perhaps this was just the confusing, self-contradictory bond of family at work.
At that very moment, Ian was standing not far away, hidden in the shadows, quietly listening to their conversation. A faint look of amusement flickered across his face, and he couldn't help but marvel inwardly.
"It's said that the Weasley family descends from King Arthur's lineage? Tsk, tsk… this really is the inheritance of a true 'adventurous spirit.'"
He wasn't angry at all about Ron's distrust. After all, Ian did enjoy a bit of tattling. Ron truly had a sharp eye for heroes. Ian's eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline; Mr. Ron Weasley's powers of deduction were nothing short of awe-inspiring.
And right at that moment, Neville looked between Ron and Hermione, visibly flustered. In a small, trembling voice, he said, "Ron, can we really handle it ourselves? If it really is dark magic, then we're all doomed."
Neville's eyes were full of worry. He was the type who had a painfully clear sense of his own limitations, he didn't have much faith in himself, nor in his two friends. Coming from a family that had suffered under You-Know-Who and other dark wizards, perhaps no one understood the horror of dark magic better than Neville Longbottom.
Ron patted Neville on the shoulder and said, "Don't be scared, Neville. We're Gryffindors, courage and cleverness are what define our House."
"We will uncover the truth." Ron's face broke into a confident grin, the kind of mysterious confidence that made you wonder exactly where he got the idea that he was smart.
"Uh…" Neville's lips trembled slightly, perhaps from the growing fear of dark wizards and dark magic. The color drained from his round, gentle-looking face. He clutched Trevor, the toad in his chest pocket, holding it so tightly that the creature squirmed uneasily in his palm.
"B-but--" The boy's voice was barely above a whisper, as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
"There's no time for any buts…" Ron suddenly cut him off, his fiery red hair flickering in the dim corridor like a spark of flame. He lowered his voice, but couldn't hide the urgency in his tone.
"We have to start investigating before we're discovered. If the fake Harry finds out that we're suspicious of him, " Ron stopped mid-sentence and drew a finger across his neck. "That impostor will kill us all!" Ron's eyes widened, and his expression turned oddly grim, as if he truly enjoyed scaring himself.
He was utterly convinced by his own conclusions. As he spoke, Ron kept glancing around nervously, as though he could already feel some sinister pair of eyes watching them from the darkness.
He certainly looked cautious, extremely so, even vigilant, maybe with a trace of genuine intuition. Unfortunately, he might also need to see an eye doctor. Ian stood by the staircase at the end of the corridor, and yet Ron hadn't even glanced his way.
"Stop scaring me," Neville sighed helplessly, his shoulders sagging. His face twitched slightly from the tension. "You know I don't have much courage."
"It's fine, I don't have much courage either," Ron somehow managed to say that with a straight face.
Honestly, Ian felt Ron deserved the title of Hogwarts' King of Nerves of Steel. If Harry really still carried a fragment of Voldemort's soul inside him, then Ron was clearly an expert at sprinting headlong toward certain death, pure, environmentally friendly bravery.
Of course, Albus Dumbledore probably wouldn't let things go that far. Given how loyal and noble the Weasley family was, he'd likely intervene with something before these three managed to get themselves killed. At least, that's what Ian thought.
The new-generation trio continued their discussion.
"But where do we even start the investigation?" Neville asked again, his voice small.
Ron smiled faintly. "I've been observing for a while. Harry, or that fake Harry, seems to leave the castle every night. He walks straight toward the Forbidden Forest."
"I bet that's where he's been going! There must be some huge secret hidden inside the Forbidden Forest!" Ron's tone brimmed with conviction, clearly suggesting they should head there themselves to find out. Though he kept his voice low, it still echoed clearly through the quiet corridor.
And at that moment, Ian, listening from not far away, narrowed his eyes slightly.
A flicker of doubt crossed his gaze.
"This…"
He couldn't tell if Ron was just spouting nonsense or if there was actually some truth to it. In Riddle's memories, there had been no mention of Harry frequently visiting the Forbidden Forest. That in itself was strange.
(To Be Continued…)