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The wind and rain lashed against the castle walls, howling through the cracks and rattling the ancient windows.
Hearing Snape address the unfamiliar wizard, Ian's curiosity got the better of him. What began as a single glance over his shoulder turned into six, despite Snape's sharp glares piercing through him like daggers.
This was Quirinus Quirrell! The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor during Harry Potter and Hermione's first year, though he wouldn't officially take up the post until the following term. Currently, he was supposed to be teaching Muggle Studies, having taken an extended leave to travel abroad.
"The butterfly effect?"
Ian feigned a vacant expression, his eyes darting around like a "clueless first-year," as Snape led the now bald but noticeably altered Quirrell toward the staircase to the eighth floor.
"Has he already encountered Voldemort?" The question burned in Ian's mind, his gaze lingering on the pair until they vanished from sight.
"His demeanor's changed; he must've had some significant experiences during his travels." Even as he shared a meal with William and Michael, Ian couldn't shake the thought.
Given his knowledge of the timeline, it was tricky to judge the situation accurately, but that didn't stop him from scheming ways to test his suspicions.
He couldn't take the lead himself, of course.
Perhaps he'd need to enlist some help?
Ian glanced at William and Michael, who were guzzling pumpkin juice like mad after accidentally biting into some enchanted chili peppers.
"Merlin's beard! What's with the spice? Have the house elves gone barmy?"
"These chili-stewed chicken legs are delicious, but I reckon I'll have to choose between enjoying them and keeping my backside intact. Is this some sort of Hogwarts Halloween tradition?"
"Halloween tradition? God, I suppose I'll just have to endure it, then."
...
His two roommates oscillated between moments of brilliance and sheer daftness. If he asked them to probe Quirrell, there was no guarantee the professor wouldn't catch on and trace it back to Ian. That was hardly a wise move, especially considering Ravenclaw's reputation for producing sharp minds.
If Quirrell were still just an ordinary professor, it wouldn't matter much. But if he'd already aligned himself with Voldemort, that was a far graver issue. Ian had no desire to attract the attention of a noseless dark wizard before he'd even made a name for himself at Hogwarts. He prided himself on lacking the reckless audacity of Harry Potter.
"Should I just report him?" Ian wouldn't mind stepping into the role of a prefect, even if he'd despised the idea in his past life. He was certain Dumbledore would be more than willing to address any concerns about Quirrell's current state.
However, Dumbledore had once again vanished from the Marauder's Map after meeting with Quirrell and Snape, leaving Ian feeling rather stumped.
Where had the headmaster gone this time?
Consulting Grindelwald might yield some answers, but Ian wasn't keen on being alone with the dark wizard. It was a conundrum that gnawed at him.
"I'm just an ordinary Ravenclaw student. Even if Quirrell has turned to Voldemort, he's unlikely to suspect me of nicking things from the Room of Requirement." Ian speculated that Quirrell's early return might be tied to his own actions, which was why he couldn't stop pondering the professor's state during the feast.
"Damn It What's in this drink?"
While Ian ate calmly, William, Michael, and the other students were in an uproar, hopping around after sipping beverages laced with freshly squeezed chili juice. It was certainly a Halloween feast to remember, fiery, chaotic, and perfectly in keeping with the spirit of the season.
"Did the house elves raid a dragon's spice hoard today?"
The food wasn't bad, to be fair.
However, it was no secret that most Brits couldn't handle much spice.
Students of all years were grumbling, but after a day of festivities and with hunger gnawing at them, they kept eating despite their complaints.
The food vanished even faster than usual.
The desserts that followed likely saved every little wizard with swollen lips, though those who began to relax as the spiciness faded probably didn't realize one thing.
The "curse of the chili" would visit every person who'd indulged in the fiery feast during their next trip to the loo. Ian, who had failed to make it rain birds earlier, had quietly pulled off his Halloween prank. Of course, he wasn't immune to its effects.
With the increased demand for drinks and water, Ian only managed to grab a cup of a murky-looking beverage, the kind most wizards would avoid on a normal day.
After taking a couple of sips, Michael and William immediately asked how it tasted.
"A bit of an aftertaste," Ian replied casually.
His nonchalant response didn't fool his two roommates; instead, they concluded that his taste buds were clearly defective. Frustrated by his failed attempt to drag them down with him, Ian angrily tossed the cup into the nearest bin.
The taste was akin to dishwater.
How could it 'not' be called an aftertaste?
Ian finally understood why no one touched that drink; it was one of those peculiar wizarding concoctions that somehow persisted through the ages despite being universally unappreciated.
After the banquet, as he left the Great Hall, students of all sizes continued to chatter about school gossip. On his way to the library, Ian even overheard whispers about Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Did you hear? Professor Lockhart's releasing a new book!"
"Really? He's strict and loves to scare us, but I'm still a fan of his books. Didn't he say he wasn't planning anything new this year?"
"Apparently, Hogwarts inspired him, and he's writing a brand-new story about the school. I even caught a glimpse of his manuscript in his office!"
"What's it about? Does it involve us?"
"It's called 'Dumbledore: The Wizard Who Can Do Magic'! It's a biography of our headmaster! This is the first time Lockhart's writing from someone else's perspective!"
"Ohh! That's exciting! Maybe we'll finally get the full story of Dumbledore's legendary duel with Grindelwald!"
...
Grindelwald seemed to have truly let loose, planning to publish a book under Lockhart's name. Ian didn't doubt the book's authenticity or value; he was more curious whether the real Lockhart had met his end. Otherwise, how could Grindelwald pull off such a stunt?
"Quirrell, Grindelwald, Voldemort... none of them can stop my love for learning." Ian returned to the library and borrowed a stack of books, studying diligently until closing time. He worked harder than usual, anticipating the acquisition of 'Extraordinary traits' in his alchemy soon.
...
As night fell, Ian left the library and glanced out the window. The dark clouds and lightning were even more intense than when the storm had begun, the rain now pouring down in relentless sheets.
It obscured the distant Forbidden Forest and extinguished Ian's desire for a nighttime stroll. He could only return to Ravenclaw's common room and decide to give the little wizards a lesson in Charms.
His friends listened attentively.
Ian spoke with equal enthusiasm.
"Ravenclaw gains five points!"
In the end, after ensuring everyone had mastered the 'Accio' spell, Ian concluded the evening's tutoring session with a joke that had seemingly become a recent tradition.
The little wizards, still eager for more, began to trickle out one by one, though a few lingered behind to practice their spells.
(To Be Continued…)