"Very good, continue. If someone suffers from petrification, what magic potion would you use to help?" Snape posed this question as if he was determined to stump Ian.
"Mandragora Resurrection Potion can relieve petrification."
Ian sighed wearily.
However, Snape clearly had no intention of letting him off the hook.
"If I were to ask you to find some Sneezeweed, where should you look?" This question might not be particularly tricky, but it clearly touched upon Ian's knowledge blind spot.
He hadn't studied that part of "Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi" very thoroughly, after all, for many herbs, he just needed to know where to buy them.
"Forbidden Forest?"
Ian replied uncertainly, "Or perhaps your office, Professor. I think if you urgently need it, I could dig some out from your office."
What a simple and straightforward answer.
Students from Ravenclaw and Slytherin couldn't help but burst into laughter. However, seeing Snape's fierce expression, they immediately bowed their heads and stifled their laughter.
"Why haven't you noted down this knowledge yet? Is it because your brains can't hold them?" Snape's angry rebuke caused a flurry of note-taking sounds in the classroom.
"Because of your slick tongue and nonsense, Ravenclaw can only gain three points for this. If you don't correct your attitude, your house will lose a lot of points!"
Snape turned and sternly warned Ian again. The class continued, and when it came to practical work, Ian's magic potion was unsurprisingly the best in the class.
Aurora's potion was left far behind. This made Snape add five points to Ravenclaw, and he didn't dare mention the soul potion issue while correcting Ian on some minor problems.
"Let's go watch your grandfather catch a Centaur!"
After class.
Ian originally planned to explore the Forbidden Forest with Aurora, but she wasn't very interested in Centaurs and went to the infirmary, probably from some unspeakable trauma caused by last night's hot pot. Being reluctant to go to the Forbidden Forest alone to find Grindelwald, Ian chose to head straight to the Room of Requirement after lunch.
"A magic potion brewing classroom just for me!"
With a slight magic fluctuation, an ancient and exquisite door slowly opened, revealing a spacious and mysterious potion brewing classroom.
Unlike Snape's room, this classroom seemed forgotten by time, ancient and vast, with portraits of master potion-makers from various eras hanging on the walls, watching Ian silently, whether stern or kindly. In the center stood a massive stone worktable, but there were no potions available for use.
"Ah, as expected."
Ian looked at the map; Snape left Hogwarts after class, so he decided to act as he promised, quickly returning to the now-empty second-floor classroom. Carrying an armful of materials back to the Room of Requirement, Ian pulled out a piece of his dress record with the potion recipe.
"If I haven't guessed wrong, following Teacher Morgan's usual teaching style, this prank-like recipe should contain other knowledgeable content."
Ian found that many of the materials' preparations weren't particularly complex but were extremely time-consuming. After some thought, he let the Room of Requirement reveal what he had hidden.
In a gigantic iron cage, a Dementor seemed to curl up as if in isolation, feeling its cage open, then a warm hand pulled it out.
Dementors are blind; it only knew it had been released, with a living person before it, and a hunger-driven instinct urged it to grab onto the little wizard and absorb his happiness and soul.
Human souls are most vibrant with emotions, the Dementor's favorite, with a young wizard's emotions being a delicacy. The Dementor could hardly wait to feast.
However.
"You're going to help me grind these materials! Just press down hard with this thing and roll it back and forth over and over!" Ian dragged the huge Dementor to the workbench.
"Don't mess it up, or I'll flush you down the Ravenclaw loos!" His voice was stern and serious. In reality, Dementors couldn't quite understand the words of living beings.
A threat?
Meaningless to Dementors.
At least, until today... it was so.
Just after Ian finished speaking, the originally ravenous Dementor twisted dramatically in mid-air and flew towards the material processing table.
"Crack~ crack~ crack~"
The Dementor obediently started grinding.
It didn't know why, only that the tender voice echoed clearly in its mind, a transcendent power binding it to the command of words.
Irresistible.
Unyielding.
Like a king...