Hogwarts Raven

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That meant he had to start from scratch.

There were no books detailing the magical properties of a Dementor's cloak, no spells describing how it interacted with different enchantments. The only way forward was experimentation.

"Only by understanding a material completely can it be used properly," Ian reasoned.

An invisibility handkerchief wasn't much. But if it worked, it could serve as proof that Ravenclaw's theories about the three Hallows had some merit.

Ian respected Hogwarts' founders. But he only believed what he could verify.

"It is a magical material…"

As he studied the spectral fabric, Ian noted that it radiated an unnatural, bone-chilling cold.

He glanced up at the Dementor hovering nearby.

His look was casual— absentminded, even.

But the Dementor flinched.

Then, to Ian's surprise, it scuttled back into its cage, squeezing its form inside before slamming the door shut behind itself.

Ian raised an eyebrow.

"What are you afraid of? It's winter, I'm not going to pluck off all your fur and turn you into a cooling mat."

It seemed not only the Slytherin students misunderstood him.

Even his Dementor was developing trust issues.

A faint, rasping whisper echoed from inside the cage.

"Evil… evil… wizards…" Ian blinked.

Then, after a moment, he let out a quiet chuckle.

"Your vocabulary has improved," he observed dryly. "Far better than the last time we spoke."

The Dementor shuddered.

"Have you ever met an evil wizard who treats you this well?" Ian asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Raising his wand, he flicked it lightly, casting a modified version of Metus Advenit, a spell of his own design.

It was a twisted fusion of Legilimency and the Patronus Charm, a calculated enchantment that played upon the deepest desires of its target.

Even if the happiness it created was false…

It was still happiness.

Ian forced the Dementor to relive a vision of consuming the souls of hundreds of witches and wizards. After a few moments of eerie, jittering movements within the cage, the creature finally collapsed onto its back, looking almost... content.

"Now, this is what I call kindness!" Ian grinned as he darted forward to pluck a few more ragged strands of the Dementor's tattered cloak. The creature, still lost in its false euphoria, made no move to stop him, seemingly resigned to Ian's peculiar experiments.

The entire morning passed in quiet study.

Ian remained completely engrossed in his research, scrutinizing the spectral material for any hints of its true properties. Only when his stomach growled loudly did he finally acknowledge the passage of time.

Stretching, he exited the Room of Requirement and glanced out the nearest window.

The storm had cleared. Sunlight now streamed over the castle grounds, where students took advantage of the break in the weather. A group of eager Quidditch players had already gathered on the pitch, shivering but determined, their passion outweighing the biting cold.

"Perfect. I still need some Phantom Thread and Ghost Ash."

Ian had devised a plan to incorporate standard wizarding alchemy into his work. If the Dementor's cloak could truly mimic the properties of Demiguise fur, then it should be capable of producing an alchemical invisibility effect.

Of course, the exact method for crafting an Invisibility Cloak was an ancient secret, closely guarded by the enchanters who specialized in their production. Ian lacked the full knowledge of this monopolized craft, but that wouldn't stop him from experimenting.

After all, alchemical artifacts weren't born from secrets, they were created by people. If others had devised a method, then surely he could do the same.

All he needed was a working prototype.

Even if the invisibility effect was minor, it would serve as proof of concept. And if he could successfully recreate such a cloak, even in a crude form, then the next logical step would be testing theories about the Resurrection Stone.

"Failure is just failure. My skill is improving, there's nothing to lose." Ian's gaze shifted toward the darkened treeline beyond the castle.

The Forbidden Forest.

The last place anyone would willingly go searching for rare materials.

"Hagrid will never let me in there. I need to find a hidden passage."

Pulling out the Marauder's Map, Ian scanned the intricate web of tunnels and corridors beneath Hogwarts. There were countless secret paths, many so obscure that even Dumbledore might not know them all.

His eyes landed on an old passage deep beneath the castle.

It was a relic from the Middle Ages, rarely used and nearly forgotten. In times of war, it had once served as an emergency escape route for students and professors, allowing them to slip away undetected.

"Perfect."

Ian wasted no time, making his way toward the castle's lower levels.

But despite his urgency, it took him over ten minutes to reach his destination, not due to distance, nor his own pace, but sheer bad luck.

The shifting staircases had other plans.

With a series of groaning, clanking sounds, they rearranged themselves with agonizing slowness, stranding Ian mid-air in one of Hogwarts' countless stairwell traps.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant."

He leaned against the banister, arms crossed, waiting for the enchanted steps to finish their nonsense.

That was when he heard the telltale sound of trouble.

"Meow~" Ian froze.

Rounding the corner, Mrs. Norris emerged from the shadows— her beady, knowing eyes locking onto him.

Ever since Ian had once tested Metus Advenit on the wretched cat, she had never forgiven him. Now, whenever she spotted him, she tried to ambush his ankles in retaliation, though she had yet to succeed.

Ian barely twitched a finger toward his wand before the cat bolted, streaking away at lightning speed.

"That bloody thing is definitely going to snitch to Filch."

There was no time for a game of cat-and-mouse. Ian doubled his pace, slipping into the passage before Hogwarts' caretaker could turn up with his usual threats of detention.

The tunnel was narrow but not cramped, sloping downward at a steep incline.

Total darkness swallowed the path ahead.

"Lumos!"

His wand flared to life, casting pale light over the damp, uneven ground. The sudden illumination sent a few rats scurrying for cover.

Ian wrinkled his nose.

The air was thick with a putrid stench. Overhead, droplets of water dripped from cracked stone pipes, leaving dark stains on the walls.

Ian barely managed to dodge one drop that nearly hit his face.

"Ugh. Knowing this place, that could be anything."

Hogwarts' basement levels weren't exactly well-maintained.

Summoning a small umbrella with a flick of his wand, Ian held it above his head as he proceeded carefully. He had no intention of letting whatever was seeping through the ceiling touch him.

The floor was littered with debris— loose stones, splintered wood, and the decayed remains of long-forgotten creatures.

He stepped cautiously.

Slipping or tripping here would be disgusting.

After casting a Bubble-Head Charm to filter out the rancid air, Ian muttered under his breath:

"Hogwarts' board of governors must be embezzling maintenance funds."

Time passed in silence.

The passage twisted and turned, stretching far longer than expected. Ian had already been walking for an hour when he noticed the incline gradually rising, he was nearing the Forbidden Forest.

His Marauder's Map, however, had stopped responding. The ancient magic that powered it seemed to weaken underground, leaving it eerily blank.

"I'll have to call the house-elves to clean this place later..."

But before he could complete the thought, a sound, low and unnatural, sent an icy shiver down his spine.

"Sssssss~"

Ian froze.

Something was ahead.

As he rounded the next bend, his Lumos light spilled over a grotesque sight.

A monstrous creature lay coiled in the darkness, its form twisted and misshapen, its body covered in unnatural, bulging growths.

But the worst part— the worst part— was the face.

A human face is grotesquely embedded into the creature's side.

Sickly pale, gaunt, and sunken-eyed, it appeared stitched into the beast as if forced into existence through some horrific magical experiment.

The second Ian's light touched it, the face opened its eyes.

Cold.

Malicious.

And far too human.

A thin, curling smile spread across its lips.

"Ah… Hogwarts sends me another student," IT rasped, voice hoarse yet disturbingly delighted.

A foul black mist coiled around its twisted form as the creature stirred, its misshapen limbs tensing.

Ian's grip tightened on his wand.

"Oh, nope," He muttered.

Without hesitation, he flicked his wrist.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The jet of green light burst forth, illuminating the tunnel with a sickly glow.

For a single, frozen moment, everything was drowned in emerald death.

(End of Chapter)