Inverting the Heavenly Dipper!

Rebellion against the heavens!

Snape might be proficient in—and the victim of—Levicorpus, but he certainly didn't possess the ability to invert cause and effect. Ian was convinced he had seen the truth!

Snape was a plagiarist!

This was undoubtedly a massive piece of leverage against Professor Snape. It might not compare to his past with Lily Potter, but it was certainly a truth capable of causing Snape to die of social embarrassment right there at Hogwarts.

Its impact would be no less than a middle schooler having their entire school discover their online handle was [King's Contempt] and their signature was [Let the World Feel Pain]!

"You are smiling quite foolishly."

The witch didn't know why Ian was standing there grinning like an idiot.

"I just thought of something happy."

Ian felt the witch's gaze and immediately snapped back to reality.

"Does threatening others make you that happy?"

The witch's deep gaze seemed capable of piercing through everything.

"Teacher Mara! And you said you couldn't read minds!"

Ian was once again shocked.

"You just asked me about that phrase, and now you're standing there giggling. Any normal person would have no trouble guessing what kind of mischief you're plotting."

The witch rubbed her temples helplessly, as if she couldn't bear Ian's stupidity.

"Tell me, who obtained my book?"

She seemed quite concerned about her legacy in the mortal world.

"It's one of my professors. Every year when he starts his class, he uses the exact same opening line—the very one you wrote in one of your books, Teacher Mara."

Ian hurriedly provided the answer.

"The professor who teaches you potion-making at that school called Hogwarts?" Seeing Ian nod, the witch responded with a somewhat indifferent tone.

"I suppose that is no disgrace."

What exactly was being disgraced went without saying.

Naturally, it was the knowledge authored by this arrogant witch.

"Can potions really stop death?"

Ian asked the question that had plagued many Hogwarts students their entire lives.

"Of course they can, though that professor of yours certainly cannot." The witch chuckled noncommittally, her tone filled with a certainty that piqued one's curiosity.

"Why?"

Ian hurriedly pressed for an answer.

"Because I have already chopped down the last Golden Apple Tree in the mortal world, and the main ingredient required for a potion that can stop death—or even reverse it—is the golden apple."

The witch patiently explained to Ian, "Of course, if your professor is genius enough, perhaps he could find a substitute for the golden apple in the mortal world."

Although she said it that way, her tone was laced with disdain; she clearly didn't believe that any potion scholar of later generations could find a material capable of replacing the golden apple.

Ian didn't believe it either.

After all.

If Snape could truly stop death, he wouldn't be mocked by so many for being all talk—it was easy to see from the original story that Snape was indeed incapable of brewing such a potion.

However.

Now that he knew where and when that cliché opening line originated, the source of Snape's classic catchphrase had finally been found.

He couldn't do it.

But once upon a time... someone certainly could.

"Teacher Mara, why did you chop down the Golden Apple Tree?" Ian had heard the witch mention the tree-chopping more than once, and he was curious if this event was related to the obsession that kept her in Limbo.

"Because I felt like it."

The witch smiled brightly.

There wasn't the slightest hint of anything strange in her expression.

"Alright then."

Ian knew he wouldn't be able to get the real reason out of her.

"Potions are different from magic; the various raw materials are constantly changing. If you wish to learn, you will need to bring me some potion books from your era."

The witch took the initiative to change the subject.

"Don't you need me to bring some raw materials?"

Ian blinked.

"My dear apprentice, although I have been dead for a long time, I trust that even in your era, potion ingredients are certainly not worth a pittance."

"So, Teacher, even if I needed them, can you... afford to buy them?"

Lies do not hurt people.

The truth is the sharp blade.

Having been exposed as a pauper, Ian couldn't help but feel his youthful face flush slightly.

"As long as the materials are available at Hogwarts, I should be able to find some." Ian admitted he was a pauper, but Hogwarts was certainly not a poor school!

"Heh, I don't want you to be hunted down by your Potions master." The witch was clearly a Potions master herself, so she naturally understood the status of potion ingredients in the hearts of such masters.

"Professor Snape is quite good to me. Perhaps if I beg him pitifully enough, he'd be willing to lend me some ingredients. I already owe him quite a bit of money as it is."

Ian spoke with some uncertainty.

"He treats you so well, and you still want to threaten him? Tsk tsk, you truly possess some qualities of a Dark wizard." The witch looked Ian over again with a surprised expression.

"..."

Ian didn't know how to explain it; he just felt that leverage was like a nuclear bomb—you didn't necessarily have to use it, but having it was certainly much better than not.

"Forget it, I won't tease you anymore."

The witch waved her hand with a chuckle. "Don't underestimate your teacher. I just haven't been in contact with this knowledge for a long time; you only need to bring me books from the modern era."

"It won't take long before I catch up to your era, and then... surpass it." With unparalleled confidence, the witch's arrogance was fully displayed in that moment.

Ian felt his heart surging with excitement.

Who wouldn't want to have an awesome teacher?

The more impressive the teacher!

The more the student could naturally learn!

He felt as if he could already see his bright future!

"Praise be to you! Teacher Mara!"

Ian began to clap directly and offered up his flattery.

"Heh, you will surely achieve great things."

The witch was in a good mood and passed judgment on Ian.

"Of course! Especially since I have such an excellent teacher!"

Ian immediately chimed in.

It was completely natural.

However.

"I was referring to your talent for sycophancy, which will surely lead you to a smooth path in your pursuit of power." The witch continued her assessment with a chuckle.

Was that a compliment?

It didn't sound like one at all!

"How can praise from the bottom of my heart be called sycophancy..." Ian widened his eyes with a look of sincerity, as if he had heard something unbelievable.

"See? I told you that you were very talented."

The witch clearly wasn't buying it.

It made even the thick-skinned Ian feel a bit awkward.

"Study magic well. When you are strong enough, you won't need to wrap yourself in a disguise." The witch gave Ian a meaningful piece of advice.

"I understand."

Ian's expression became a bit more serious.

"Then, my dull apprentice, come and learn some magic." The witch suddenly stood up from the bench, her long legs moving as she walked toward Ian.

"You are far too weak right now."

The witch stood beside Ian. She was more than a head taller than him, and her inherent aura of superiority made Ian feel an unavoidable sense of oppression.

"I don't have a wand."

Ian spoke nervously.

"A wand is merely a tool."

The witch looked at Ian's bewildered expression.

She couldn't help but sigh.

"Your era... is truly inexplicable." She couldn't help but comment, then raised her hand and snapped off the metal frame of a painting in the great hall.

Almost at the same time.

No incantation was spoken.

No other movements were made.

As the witch handed the metal frame toward Ian, it gradually transformed into the shape of a standard wand, though it was impossible to tell what kind of wood it was made of.

"Magic?"

Ian was somewhat astonished.

"It is knowledge."

The witch's voice was steady.

Just as Ian was still pondering whether this bargain-bin teacher was trying to swindle him, the witch had already walked behind him and pressed a finger against the back of his head.

"Let us start with some simple magic."

Almost the moment the words left her lips, Ian felt a chill that made him tremble with terror.

"Feel this killing intent."

The witch's soft, slow voice made Ian realize that something was wrong. What kind of simple magic required sensing killing intent?

"Feel it with your heart, and then, chant with me..."

The witch's finger pressed against the back of Ian's head, and a certain emotion traveled from her fingertip into his brain; Ian felt an incredibly intense impulse surging through his mind.

"Avada Kedavra."

Inside the magnificent, opulent hall, flames burned in the fireplace. The witch had taught her apprentice his first spell.