Upon hearing this, Professor Flitwick gave him a strange look before seeming to drift into some distant memory, and began to speak again.
"Biographies often have their embellishments. But over a century ago, the wizarding world was far more populated than it is today."
"Killing a few hundred people a day may be an exaggeration, but a dozen or twenty… that would probably suffice. If you haven't read the book, then you probably don't know what the protagonist did," Professor Flitwick continued. He would not usually entertain such matters with young students, but Ian was clearly an exception.
Gifted.
Talented.
A future Headmaster in the making.
"Uh, Sir, I was just wondering how this protagonist in the biography relates to my Disarming Charm technique? Did he invent it before me?"
Ian tilted his head, finally voicing the question that had been lingering in his mind for a while.
Professor Flitwick nodded, then hesitated and shook his head.
"I wouldn't say he invented it. According to the records in that book, and the research I conducted out of curiosity, that student from a century ago learned the technique from a mysterious wizard."
This revelation left Ian stunned.
"Someone really got ahead of me."
He felt the pang of regret that he had been born too late.
"It's difficult to say. Many have poured over the contents of that book, but no one has ever been able to identify the person who truly created the technique," Professor Flitwick added with a sigh.
"So, that means I'm still the first person to use this technique, right?" Ian's eyes brightened again as he looked at Professor Flitwick with eager anticipation.
Professor Flitwick, however, couldn't understand why the young wizard was so fixated. "That's hard to say. In reality, your method isn't particularly complex as far as the technique itself goes."
"The difficulty in casting it lies in the strength of the wizard's magical core and control over their magic. I believe that even including the protagonist we discussed, in the last few hundred years, there have been very few who could successfully cast your spell," the Ravenclaw Head of House explained, dousing Ian's hopes for a paper on the subject.
"Techniques that no one can use won't be published in reputable journals. After all, if they can't verify it, they'll naturally be cautious about what they choose to print."
The academic rigor in the wizarding world was high, unlike certain Muggle academic journals that seemed to publish anything for a bit of gold. This left Ian feeling somewhat helpless.
"Can I go demonstrate it to them?"
Ian still seemed unwilling to let go of the idea.
"Many pure-blood families have read that book we just discussed. I'm sure you wouldn't want your technique to lead them to believe it could be used for the Killing Curse," Professor Flitwick spoke with an air of suggestion, his tone thoughtful.
The young wizard felt guilty again.
He had to momentarily abandon the idea of publishing a paper.
"Are you saying that the transfer student from over a hundred years ago had already figured out the Avada Lightning Chain…? No, I mean, he understood the multi-cast version of the Killing Curse?" Ian wasn't trying to let it slip; he had simply been thinking about the original creator and spoke absentmindedly.
"…"
Professor Flitwick fell silent.
He realized that the young wizard's Lumos Charm, demonstrated in class, was undoubtedly a reworking of the light from the Unforgivable Curse. Just look at the name... Avada Lightning Chain... Was it possible that this Ravenclaw House already had its own Dark Lord?
Professor Flitwick constantly corrected his thoughts, reminding himself that Hogwarts would never choose a dark wizard as Headmaster. He tried his best to maintain a calm demeanor as he looked at Ian.
"Let's assume you've read some legendary stories about transfer students that I haven't. This technique is indeed something that transfer students could have mastered, at least according to the descriptions in his biography," Professor Flitwick said, walking over to his bookshelf and retrieving several sheets of paper from the bottom shelf.
"It's just a biography. It can't be taken too seriously." Ian didn't want to claim the title of inventor; he just found the history too absurd and far-fetched.
"I thought the same as you at first. But when I, like you, pestered Albus, he inadvertently let slip some things during a conversation."
"That's why I feel that what seems forgotten may not be as simple as it appears." Professor Flitwick glanced at Ian, his hesitation obvious, as though he weren't sure whether discussing such matters with a first-year was wise.
"Does this have anything to do with Dumbledore?"
Ian was somewhat taken aback.
Professor Flitwick nodded. "The year Albus entered school was the same year that the transfer student graduated. I think he would know best whether that transfer student truly existed."
One had to admit, Professor Flitwick seemed to have thoroughly researched the stories in Questionable Legends: The Mystery of the Transfer Student.
"What did Dumbledore let slip?" Ian's curiosity was piqued even further.
"He received a notebook from the transfer student, a Hufflepuff's notebook, but I couldn't see its contents. Our Headmaster has many secrets," The Ravenclaw Head of House sighed lightly, momentarily letting his guard down in front of his student.
"Uh..." Ian hesitated, realizing he might already be familiar with the contents of that notebook. It was likely about the transaction between the four founders and the Master of Death, which made sense as to why Dumbledore hadn't shown it to anyone.
After all, the contents were quite shocking.
"Of course, I feel that Albus's slip was intentional; I ultimately found this under his guidance." Professor Flitwick raised a piece of parchment in his hand.
"Can I know what's recorded on it?" Ian's face was filled with curiosity.
"It's about the mystery of the transfer student's powers." Professor Flitwick returned to the front of his desk, his voice low.
"And who taught him that ability?" Ian remembered that Professor Flitwick had previously mentioned that this transfer student's skills came from a mysterious wizard.
"Yes, he referred to him as the 'system teacher,' and the reason it intrigued me enough to investigate further is that some information suggests this teacher had some connection to Lady Ravenclaw." Professor Flitwick's voice grew softer, as if speaking an ancient secret.
Ian's eyes widened.
"Lady Ravenclaw? Was his teacher Lady Ravenclaw?"
Professor Flitwick remained silent for a moment, raising his hand to place the paper in front of Ian. The paper appeared to record the remnants of a memoir.
[Do you remember the year before the transfer?]
[I found it in the wild; it was a talking bird that seemed to have suffered a serious injury. I fed it some potions I carried with me.]
[It praised the quality of my potions, saying there wasn't much water diluted in it, and then told me it could teach me magic, making me a wizard on par with Merlin.]
[Of course, I wouldn't believe the nonsense of a bird. While taking it back for healing, I checked some information and found that this bird looked more like a wizard in Animagus form.]
[I asked it, and it said it wouldn't admit to killing me, and again mentioned it could teach me skills as long as I was willing to call it 'System Daddy.']
[It also told me that it never owes anyone a favor, only makes others owe it favors, so that when it kills others, it can feel justified.]
[What philosophical words! Looking back now, it's quite chilling.]
[Perhaps because during that time, I was troubled by my studies in magic, or maybe because my sixth sense was strong, I inexplicably believed it. After all, wizards who can learn Animagus are very powerful.]
[And the facts proved that my intuition was not wrong.]
[This quirky teacher was indeed very powerful; it taught me a lot of terrifying knowledge, steering my fate toward directions I had never dared to imagine.]
[However, its injuries didn't seem simple; I needed to help it...]
...
The notes in the memoir were hasty and fragmented.
On the paper that resembled the remnants of a memoir, besides the hastily written notes, there was also a clear imprint of a pattern, as if it had been photographed and then stamped onto the page.
It was vivid and even seemed to be moving its head.
That was,
a raven.
(End of Chapter)
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