33: The Professor's Tacit Consent

Clearly, Snape wanted to prove that Ian’s outlandish claims were nothing but a pack of lies by forcing him to "reproduce" the bizarre feat Ian had described.

However, Ian was not the least bit nervous.

Although the notes Snape had provided were less detailed than Grindelwald's annotations in *Secrets of the Darkest Art*, the magic recorded was clearly not of a high level of difficulty.

"Does it require hostility...?"

Ian read with great concentration. He did not grasp the entire spell at once. Perhaps the magic just wasn't "dark" enough? Ian, who had already gained some self-awareness regarding his talent for the Dark Arts, mused to himself.

At that moment, Snape, waiting for Ian to admit defeat, sneered, "Heh, putting on a show..."

As Ian read, Snape drew his wand. With a wave of his hand, the scattered wooden planks in the corner began to piece themselves together into coffins. The chaotic remains were pulled by an invisible force, wrapped in tarpaulins, and floated automatically into the coffins.

*Clatter.*

One by one, the coffins were buried into the earth. The soil that had been piled up in the house began to fill the floor back in. Soon, the entire living room was restored to its original state.

What had taken Ian an entire afternoon was finished in mere minutes by magic. The bodies didn't even have to be forced into a single coffin. Truth be told, had the corpses not burst through their coffins when Ian summoned them, he wouldn't have needed to build new ones to compensate the dead. He had a conscience, after all—just not a very large one. There was no helping it; nailing coffins was exhausting, and Ian had only wanted to save time by having multiple bodies share a grave. They were getting a new home, after all.

"Mr. Prince, I do not have time to wait for you to continue stalling."

Having finished cleaning up the mess, Snape reminded Ian, who was standing in the corner with a dark expression on his face.

"Professor." Ian finally looked up, his focused study session over.

"If you want to confess, it is not too late." Snape snorted coldly.

"Professor, this spell is Dark Magic, isn't it?" Ian asked, sounding somewhat troubled.

"Of course." Snape glanced at him sideways.

"Won't I get into trouble if I learn it?" Ian continued.

Snape showed an expression of impatience. "You weren't worried about getting into trouble when you learned the Corpse-Control Curse?" Snape scoffed, staring at Ian with eyes that suggested he saw through his act.

"Don't give me some ridiculous reason as a lame excuse for why you can't actually learn it. Didn't you find a scrap of paper, try it out of curiosity, and learn the Corpse-Control Curse just like that?"

"This isn't even a standard piece of Dark Magic. Given your incredibly inflated boasting, I should think a minor spell like this wouldn't be too difficult for a 'magical genius' such as yourself." Snape placed heavy emphasis on the words "magical genius," dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm not making excuses, Professor, you've misunderstood." Ian blinked, glancing at his skill panel to see a new Level 1 skill added to the list. "I just thought..."

Ian drew his wand and pointed it at the remaining pile of planks in the distance.

"Sectumsempra!"

Ian whispered the incantation softly. As the words left his lips, a subtle, almost imperceptible ripple shivered through the air. An invisible blade cut through like a phantom, as if a spectral sword were slashing wildly, slicing everything in its path into ribbons.

A harsh, tearing sound filled the room. Fragments flew everywhere. Wood shavings and dust rained down, filling the living room like a storm.

"It wasn't that hard to learn."

Covered in debris, Ian put away his wand, brushed off his clothes, and looked at Snape with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Perhaps you should pick a more difficult spell, Professor. Then I might actually fail to learn it, and you would get your wish of seeing me in distress and frustration."

His tone was full of anticipation, sounding as if he were entirely concerned for the other person's feelings.

He received no response.

Standing on the other side, the sneer on Snape’s face had frozen completely. The atmosphere in the room turned bizarrely heavy.

"Professor?" Ian persisted, undeterred. "Really, something harder—just a little harder—and I truly wouldn't be able to learn it." His thirst for knowledge was so pure that even his insincere words felt filled with genuine feeling.

"..."

Snape was covered in wood shavings, which clung firmly to his greasy hair. Clearly, he had no mind to worry about his appearance now.

"What is wrong with you!?" Snape’s face twitched violently.

"As you can see, I was almost stumped by your challenge." Ian feigned a look of lingering fear, mirroring his own earlier, absurd narrative.

Snape did not take the bait. At this moment, a professor who could spend half an hour mocking someone without repeating a single word opened his mouth, but for a long time, he could not utter a single syllable.

There was no helping it. Who could have imagined it? A child he had just brought from an orphanage, who had only bought his wand days ago, had actually succeeded in slapping him in the face, proving what "self-taught" magical talent truly meant.

Was this even human? What kind of creature was this? Twenty minutes, all told? Even Voldemort himself would have had to hand over his wand to you! Snape looked dazed.

"Professor? Professor? Haven't you decided yet? I suggest we skip the Dark Magic—why not test me with *Fiendfyre* instead?" Ian’s voice chirped.

"Shut up!" Snape just wanted to calm down. *Good grief!* Fiendfyre? How much bolder could he get?

"Alright..." Ian shrank back.

It took a while for Snape to recover from his dreamlike stupor. He looked at the boy before him, forced to re-evaluate Ian’s story. Perhaps, just perhaps, a dark wizard had really dropped a scrap of paper?

"Where is that paper you found?" Snape still refused to admit his judgment had been wrong.

"It's gone. It was chaos last night, with a pile of corpses climbing out; I have no idea where the paper flew off to." Ian immediately put on an expression of annoyance.

"You are not to mention yesterday... or today, to anyone!" Snape’s expression was complex, and he did not press further about the paper.

Beyond shock and disbelief, his gaze toward Ian held a faint trace of worry. Displaying such extraordinary magical talent during these sensitive times was not a good thing. Voldemort was returning. Grindelwald's acolytes and descendants were active near Hogwarts.

Thinking of this, Snape suddenly realized something. Perhaps the scrap of paper the brat had found was dropped by one of Grindelwald's acolytes? If it was meant to teach a young Grindelwald, then it all made sense!

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Without realizing it, Snape stopped doubting Ian's story. There was no choice; he had seen the boy's incredible talent with his own eyes.

"School starts soon. You remember this: you are not to use the spell you learned today on any student at school! Even if someone you dislike provokes you, it makes no difference!" Snape was already regretting having brought out *Sectumsempra*. Who could have guessed this fellow would actually learn it?

"Yes, yes, I understand perfectly. I have always been kind to others." Ian nodded, offering his assurance.

He took Snape's words to heart. After all, Snape had only said he wasn't to use *Sectumsempra* on students he disliked, but he hadn't said anything about using the *Corpse-Control Curse* he had learned yesterday on the family ancestral graves of those students.

Yes. This must be a tacit approval from the Professor.