However.
Daphne Greengrass clearly did not share his thoughts.
"No, I... I have discovered that our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is a world-renowned author, and he is likely a deeply hidden madman!"
"You haven't attended his class on Dementors? Although he told everyone that it was just an illusion created by mental magic, I clearly saw before his class that..."
"He really raised Dementors in the school!"
At this point.
Daphne Greengrass's tears were already flowing freely.
This once proud Slytherin pureblood descendant now looked as pale as a ghost, and even her voice carried an uncontrollable fear and tremor.
"I want to tell you about this..." Perhaps growing more fearful, Daphne Greengrass began to stop another student in front of Ian.
Although the red book in her hand was indeed somewhat simply made, it was unexpected that the content generated could even sense that Ian was right next to the person responsible for telling the stories.
"Just like this, this classmate of mine, he defeated the desire demon in the Forbidden Forest, slaying three hundred Succubi in the Forbidden Forest, and then pretended as if nothing had happened to return to us."
To be fair.
Watching Daphne Greengrass stop others and ramble on about her fabricated stories, even Ian, with his thick skin, felt a bit embarrassed.
He attempted to persuade Daphne Greengrass to stop, but the degree of her fear of him clearly did not surpass the psychological shadow left by the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Daphne Greengrass seemed determined to complete the "quest" assigned by the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, apologizing to Ian while continuously stopping passing wizards.
Like someone with a split personality, she would tell one story and then apologize to Ian, only to stop another person and continue telling. Moreover, whenever she mentioned Ian, she would bow to him.
Her dedication to bowing was even more thorough than Ian's.
"..."
Ian was genuinely struggling; those little wizards who were stopped by Daphne Greengrass looked at him as if he were coercing her into doing this.
"I need to find…!" Ian truly does not understand Grindelwald's confusing behavior. Had Grindelwald predicted that he would give the Resurrection Stone to Aberforth?
But he had given a fake!
Could he really be heavily punished by old Lockhart?
It couldn't be that Daphne Greengrass had offended Grindelwald, could it?
Just as Ian pulled out the Marauder's Map to confirm that Grindelwald was still near the basement and had not left, preparing to ask Grindelwald what was going on.
"Mm?"
Ian saw the figure of the Muggle Studies professor at the corner ahead; his nose twitched a couple of times, and he instinctively reached for the wand under his robes.
"How about we go catch some little bugs tonight?"
"Sure, sure, but we need to catch two; once they grow up, we can let them have babies, and we will definitely get rich from it!"
Some little wizards' voices rang in his ears, and as little wizards came and went around him, Ian's gaze flickered slightly, and he ultimately did not pull out his wand.
"Dumbledore wouldn't want him to come into contact with the Resurrection Stone, would he?" Ian's pupils reflected Quirrell's figure; this traitor professor had transformed from a clean-cut young man into a disheveled mess.
Even before getting close.
He could already smell a foul garlic odor.
This was completely consistent with Ian's cognition of Voldemort's possessed state.
However.
There seemed to be some discrepancies in the details.
"I remember it should be hanging from the top of the head?"
Ian's expression showed slight confusion as he furrowed his brows.
Quirrell gradually disappeared around the corner, and the large circle of garlic wrapped around his waist, even trailing a tail behind him, was very conspicuous.
The swinging garlic tail looked like a long string of fuses.
"Swish~"
Ian finally couldn't hold back any longer.
He secretly set fire to Quirrell's butt.
With the sudden flames rising, Quirrell immediately jumped up in a panic, and the surrounding little wizards were also startled.
"Fire! Fire! The professor's butt is on fire!"
"Use the freezing spell!"
"No! Use the Aguamenti spell!"
"I haven't learned it! But I can use a broom to put out the fire! Broomstick Accio!"
...
In the chaos.
The little wizards enthusiastically displayed their talents. Some sprayed water on Quirrell's butt, some attempted to freeze Quirrell's butt into ice lumps, and even a Study Loser took a broom and started wildly swinging it.
"Don't! Don't do that!"
"Ah!!!"
"Quick, stop!"
Amidst the chaos.
Ian seems to hear two people's screams.
...
Number 4 Privet Drive.
As dusk fell, the street was slowly embraced by a layer of soft and mysterious twilight.
The afterglow of the sunset resembled diluted gold paint, gently brushed across every inch of space, but this brightness was gradually fading, making way for the approaching night.
The leaves on the trees lining the street appeared a deep green in the dim light; occasionally, a few fluttered down, gently drifting to the ground with an almost inaudible rustle.
As night deepened, the streetlights began to illuminate one by one, casting a warm, slightly nostalgic glow that draped a thin veil over the ordinary street. The light intertwined with the fading daylight, neither fully bright like day nor completely dark like night.
An old man sat on a bench in the street, watching the houses ahead as the lights turned on and shadows flickered. His gaze remained fixed on the smallest figure among them.
"Do you know how chaotic things have become at school?" A figure in a black robe sat down beside the old man, his face filled with displeasure and a tone of complaint.
"Severus, your insight is as sharp as ever." The old man seemed somewhat surprised by Snape's arrival, turning slightly to glance at him.
"The imposter you were looking for... his disguise is very poor," Snape responded disdainfully, his gaze also complex as he looked at the house ahead.
They sat quietly on the bench like two lonely old men.
The surrounding pedestrians were sparse, with the occasional figure hurrying home, their footsteps echoing in the empty street, adding to the night's tranquility.
"Forgive someone who never thought he would help me with such a task; he truly is not good at this. If he managed to fool the other professors, it must have taken his utmost effort."
The old man defended his younger brother.
Snape did not want to continue discussing this issue with the old man.
"Albus! We found traces of that man- no monster in the Forbidden Forest!" Snape seemed very dissatisfied with the old man's reaction and attitude, emphasizing the seriousness of the problem he encountered, "No matter what you are trying to do here, that monster has arrived a year earlier than we agreed!"
The appearance of Voldemort clearly did not surprise the old man.
In fact, he seemed somewhat pleased.
But Snape felt increasingly perplexed by this.
"You must return to the school! Ensure that... Ian does not attempt to pursue that monster again!" Snape felt a headache just thinking about what had happened in the Forbidden Forest that afternoon.
"Rest assured, I have made very thorough arrangements; no one can harm Mr. Prince, and this is equally important to me."
Dumbledore seemed not to notice the implications in Snape's words; his attention remained fixed on the house ahead, his mind troubled by other matters.
"You're not planning to return to the school? At a time like this... that despicable father's child won't enroll until next year; what exactly are you trying to do here?"
Snape also noticed Dumbledore's gaze.
He looked again at the house's window, where shadows moved, and the small figure elicited a look of disdain mixed with something hard to articulate.
"I still need some time; this is also a very important matter." Dumbledore's gaze was complex, his hands crossed tightly in front of him.
"The important matter you refer to is staring blankly at Lily's child here? I've been observing you for a long time; you've been sitting here for at least five hours!"
Snape felt as if he were being deceived by the headmaster beside him.
However.
Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh, his wrinkled face seeming to age even more, his voice carrying a weighty hoarseness and hesitation.
"Give me a little more time; I am thinking about some better choices. Trust me, Severus, the last thing you should do right now is push me to make a decision." Dumbledore's eyes gently swayed, and the unfamiliar expression on his face made Snape feel as if he were back in the moment when Dumbledore took that Slytherin student from his office not long ago.
"Why?"
Snape had a bad premonition.
The old man in front of him spoke softly, revealing no obvious emotions. Yet for some reason, Snape felt a tingling sensation on his scalp, and a chill ran down his spine.
"Because..."
Dumbledore lowered his head slightly, hiding his gaze.
"That would make you very sad."
His voice carried a hint of heaviness and helplessness.
"Of course, that includes me."
(End of Chapter)
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