The Flashback Spell failed to be cast.
All the professors present, including Dumbledore, were very surprised. You have to know, as an expert in Magic Spell studies, Professor Filius Flitwick's understanding of magic is absolutely profound.
When it comes to dueling one-on-one.
In all of Hogwarts, the only person who could definitely beat him would be the greatest wizard of the twentieth century, Dumbledore. The master-level skills needed to teach Spell Class would never fail at a Flashback Curse.
"It refused my Flashback Spell. I can't force this magic wand, otherwise it would destroy this child's companion." Flitwick was able to sense the reason for the spell's failure.
He looked awkwardly at Dumbledore.
"This really is an unexpected situation."
Dumbledore stepped forward and took Ian's magic wand, examining it with great interest—a very familiar feeling and shape, only missing that intoxicating sense of power.
"Prior Incantato!"
He drew his own wand and cast the spell himself, but the image appeared just for an instant, impossible to see anything, and then collapsed like a landslide in the blink of an eye.
After the smoke faded, it was as if nothing had happened.
"A very special magic wand."
Dumbledore didn't seem surprised. He cheerfully handed the magic wand back to Ian, "Don't let down its loyalty, and don't let down the kindness of its unicorn wand core."
A very keen eye.
Dumbledore has always been accomplished in Alchemy. Someone who could be friends with Nicolas Flamel—how could he not be a master in alchemy?
Some say Dumbledore got weaker as he grew old. Actually, aging doesn't weaken a wizard—the deeper their knowledge, the more invincible they become.
The reason Dumbledore "appears weaker" in the eyes of others was never his age.
It's only the growing steadiness of his heart.
"I will remember your teachings."
Ian humbly took back his magic wand.
This really is a true buddy!
"Is there any other way to prove my innocence?" Ian looked at the other professors, finally raising his head to the Dumbledore standing in front of him.
"It was never a critical verification. This doesn't affect our decision that you are not guilty." Dumbledore nodded, and the other professors didn't object either.
Several prefects looked a little confused.
Including the two Ravenclaw prefects, who at this moment were also fixed on Ian's magic wand hanging at his waist, completely unable to figure out what just happened.
A magic wand can reject a Flashback Curse?
Why doesn't my magic wand do that!
"Since the Headmaster says Ian didn't kill anyone, can we take Ian away now? This kind of scene would definitely leave a traumatic nightmare for a child."
Senior Sister Penelope was acting so considerate, almost like an old mother.
She probably hadn't noticed that Ian's face was much rosier than hers.
"Mr. Prince stays, prefects can leave. Please keep today's events strictly confidential and don't cause unnecessary distress for those involved." Dumbledore's instructions obviously didn't carry much authority, but the prefects present all nodded in agreement anyway.
Ian would bet twenty Golden Galleons.
None of these people would be able to keep the secret after they left.
Just as everyone was about to leave—
"What are you doing? Didn't you want to flashback the spells he cast? I bet! There's definitely the magic he used when he murdered Professor Ronnie Ehrlich!"
Marcus Flint couldn't accept Dumbledore's decision and began yelling, even brushing aside the two prefects beside him who tried to pull him out the door.
"Are you questioning Dumbledore's judgement?" Snape's tone was icy as he didn't indulge Marcus Flint at all. He directly pressed the emotionally-disordered Flint to the ground.
"Everyone knows that a wand core made from unicorn tail hair cannot cast Dark Arts. Not only are you questioning Dumbledore, you're questioning the truth of the Wizarding World."
To finish that sentence with a blank expression, Snape really made an effort.
The fourth-year little wizard was quite robust, but Snape put a Control Spell on him so he could only lie on the ground like a slug, unable to get up.
The two Slytherin prefects couldn't bear to watch, but also didn't dare say anything. They quickened their steps out of the Owl Shed, and the other prefects followed.
"It must be the culprit's trick! It's him! No mistake! I saw it with my own eyes! You can't cover for him! The Ministry of Magic won't let you accomplices off!"
"My family has connections in the Ministry, you can't persecute me! I'll report you! You'll all be sent to Azkaban!"
Marcus Flint's emotions grew increasingly agitated, almost unnaturally manic. Even Ian standing next to him could sense something was off.
The professors could too, of course.
"Flint seems absolutely convinced he saw Mr. Prince commit murder… Mm, very fixated." Dumbledore pondered for a moment in thought.
"Severus, please take this child back, check for Imperio traces, and see whether anyone's tampered with his memory."
Dumbledore's assignment was just what Snape wanted.
"Bang!"
He elbowed Marcus Flint unconscious. Yes, that's right—he didn't use magic, but rather used physical sleep on the very well-connected Flint from the Ministry.
Marcus Flint's eyes rolled up as he collapsed unconscious. Like a giant lizard, Snape hauled him toward the Owl Shed's doors.
Before Snape left,
he even turned back and shot Ian a warning look.
As if telling Ian to behave himself.
"Let's go help Pomona thoroughly check the castle, see if the perpetrator is still hiding somewhere." Professor McGonagall noticed Dumbledore wanted to talk to Ian alone.
Dean Filius Flitwick thought so too—after all, they'd worked together for many years.
"You'd better think carefully about whether you've offended anyone—especially any Dark Wizard." Dean Flitwick gave Ian some heartfelt advice before leaving.
"I'm an orphan. Who would I offend?"
Ian frowned and thought hard for ages, genuinely feeling innocent. "If I have to say, before school started, I did run into someone who might be a Dark Wizard on Charing Cross in London."
Maybe that's a useful piece of information?
But Dumbledore's expression was a little odd.
"We'll investigate."
He seemed a bit perfunctory, nodding, and after a moment's hesitation he spoke again.
"Just to satisfy my own curiosity… Mr. Prince, show me your Fiendfyre Spell." Dumbledore's sudden soft request left Ian utterly bewildered.
This plot twist couldn't really be any more abrupt, could it?
"Huh?"
He tried to play dumb, but realized he couldn't get away with it—if Dumbledore made this request, he must already know Ian had mastered the Fiendfyre.
How did he know?
Aurora?
Aurora shouldn't know, either!
After all, Advanced Dark Arts Unveiled came from Aurora, and Aurora recommended learning Fiendfyre, but Ian had never actually cast the spell since learning it.
Legilimency?
He had Occlumency, after all!
With his Thought Perception, he didn't need anyone to teach him—he'd already got the essential Hogwarts mod installed!
Facing Dumbledore's smiling gaze.
Ian was silent for a moment.
He raised his magic wand.
Chanted the spell.
Brilliant blue flames rose in the shed, but didn't ignite a single straw.
"Nicely practiced."
Dumbledore still smiled gently as he praised, the crescent frames of his glasses reflecting the elves dancing in the room, and some faint emotion flickered across his deep eyes.
"Headmaster, I…"
Ian wanted to explain he wasn't an evil little wizard—but Dumbledore merely patted his shoulder, raised his magic wand, and extinguished the Fiendfyre in the room.
"This afternoon's Magic History Class will be a battle—go rest well."
Without waiting for Ian to reply, Dumbledore strode out, leaving Ian holding his magic wand and standing alone at the unprotected crime scene.
"Huh?"
Ian was full of question marks.
The dead professor.
Is he supposed to clean up the corpse?
Would burning the corpse with Fiendfyre be disrespectful?
"But shattered body parts can't dance, either." Just as Ian was wondering if Dumbledore was suggesting he burn the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's body with Fiendfyre—
"Swish swish~"
Two house-elves materialized in front of him.
...
Headmaster's Office.
The circular room was full of all sorts of ridiculous decorations. On the slender table sat numerous silver instruments, spinning and puffing out little jets of smoke.
The portraits of former headmasters hung on the walls, most snoring away as if they lived in a different time cycle from people outside.
Some were chatting.
"Unbelievable—a Ravenclaw kid, made to stand facing the wall in the office?"
"Hehe, you think Ravenclaws never mess up? Look at how nervous she is—if she doesn't wind up expelled, she's still not getting out of school that easily."
"Back in my day, misbehaving kids got flogged—never had a kid we couldn't manage."
"Can't you all be quiet? You'll scare her! All dead for centuries and still reminiscing—now Headmaster Dumbledore never punishes students physically."
"But Severus does."
...
Penelope sat on the long bench, a bit anxious.
Time seemed to pass slowly.
She had no idea how she managed to endure the noisy torment until she finally heard movement by the rotating staircase behind her.
"Headmaster Dumbledore."
Penelope turned to look at the aged wizard appearing. She'd already recalled everything she did today and couldn't figure out why she'd been called to the headmaster's office alone.
"Don't be nervous, Miss Kilvate—no mistakes, and no punishment. I asked Fox to bring you here because I'd like to understand the situation."
Dumbledore walked to his office chair.
"Is it about the professor's death today?"
That was the only possibility Penelope could think of.
"That matter no longer involves you little wizards—don't dwell on it, the professors will handle everything properly." Dumbledore gazed gently at the student.
His eyes shifted.
But he still did his best to maintain a warm smile.
"I merely heard from the castle ghosts that since yesterday afternoon, you've been tirelessly asking about things in the castle… perhaps matters that shouldn't be probed?"