Ian had seen talking books in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts Library and had even curiously studied them for a while. This was probably one of the important reasons behind the absurd scene before him.
"My alchemy efficiency is actually higher when I'm drunk!?" Ian tried hard to recall what exactly he had done last night, but all he remembered was dancing and battling among the ghosts at their banquet.
Children really shouldn't drink.
He had no idea when he had returned to the Room of Requirement, or how he had stayed up all night tinkering with this pile of books. He had even decorated the Dementor.
A hangover felt absolutely terrible.
Especially for Ian's body, which had not yet fully developed.
He shook his somewhat swollen, aching head, and scattered fragments of memory seemed to tumble loose. However, he only recalled sorting Riddle's entire family's bones into categories.
"One of you has to be Old Tom." Ian looked at the carefully sorted pile of Muggle skeletal remains. Since their bones lacked bloodline magic, they had fortunately been left intact and piled in a corner. As for the bones that possessed bloodline magic, every last one had become the bone books now floating in midair.
Not a single one had escaped.
"My body is about to burst from being squeezed!"
"Can't you make me bigger?"
"You put the face on my cover on crooked! Take my face off and put it back together properly!"
"Oh, heavens, how can there be such a bored creator? He created us just so he could talk to stupid snakes. I feel like I really hate the content and mission I carry!"
The floating bone books had been chattering nonstop from beginning to end.
Their covers were mainly made from carefully selected human skeletal