The Day School Began

September 1, 1991—the first day of the new school term at Hogwarts.

Ian Alvin left Moon Base, changed into robes custom-made by Madam Malkin herself, picked up his familiar suitcase, and stepped from the teleportation array beneath the moonlight into the Dark Forest.

He had originally planned to take the Hogwarts Express, relive memories of his student days, and observe the Chosen One of Destiny—Harry Potter.

However, the moment he recalled the noisy children and meaningless small talk in the carriages, all interest vanished.

After Apparition ended, Ian hovered half a meter above the ground, his figure coming to a steady halt.

The air was cold and crisp, and the forest was silent.

He raised both arms slightly. Magic surged in his palms as he balanced his body in the air.

Years ago, Voldemort had achieved "Unsupported Flight" through his own magic, shocking countless wizards.

Ian was naturally no exception—geniuses never accepted falling behind.

Using the Levitation Charm as its bones and the Gravity Charm as its core, he had derived an entirely new spell formula.

Now, flight no longer required guidance from a wand. It could be controlled by will alone.

The night wind brushed past, lifting his robes. A faint light came from the distance, where a short figure waited among the trees.

It was Hogwarts' resident phantom—Professor Flitwick.

"Professor, it's been a long time." Ian landed and bowed slightly.

"My goodness, it really is you! Five years." Flitwick looked up, his face full of smiles.

Their embrace was brief but sincere.

"Where have you been all these years?"

"Traveling everywhere, searching for answers," Ian replied.

"Then I suppose I should call you Professor now." Flitwick shook his head with a smile. "But in my eyes, you'll always be that Ravenclaw student who loved staying up late to write experimental notes."

The two chatted as they followed the stone path toward the castle.

Beneath the night sky, Hogwarts' outline grew ever more majestic, its turrets appearing and disappearing among the clouds and mist.

Flitwick and Ian shared a profound bond.

Ian, a Ravenclaw by birth, had once been his favorite student—brilliant, calm, and rational to an almost frightening degree.

Their unusual teacher-student relationship had grown even stronger through their research into dark magic.

That year, Ian had sought Flitwick out and asked for guidance in researching dark magic.

He was initially refused. But when Ian said, "Fear comes from ignorance. If we do not study darkness, we can never understand its structure," Flitwick fell silent.

In the end, the professor agreed to supervise the research and established three rules:

Before every experiment, the Patronus Charm had to be cast, proving that one's reason had not been corrupted;

They had to stop and rest every two weeks, and were forbidden from touching any dark magic during that time;

All research findings had to be recorded, verified, and tested again. They could not be kept private.

Under these strict constraints, the two coauthored several defensive-magic papers, which were included by the Dark Defense Alliance.

At the time, Ian was still only a student, yet his research earned him high-level membership.

Dumbledore eventually learned of the matter, but Flitwick fought hard to protect him, allowing the research to continue.

Even after graduation, the papers Ian and Flitwick had written together were still regarded as models of defensive magic.

When they reached the castle entrance, the stone archway opened automatically.

The magnificent hall was brightly lit, candles floating above the long tables.

At the teachers' table sat familiar faces including Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape.

Ian was led to the High Table. After exchanging a few pleasantries with the professors, his eyes swept casually across every corner.

Five years had passed, but Hogwarts remained just as it had been—the walls were warm, and the air carried the fragrance of ancient magic.

As the night deepened, the students entered one after another.

The new students entered the hall with nervous excitement, while the Sorting Hat was placed upon a stool.

The ancient hat cleared its throat and began to sing a new song.

"Forge wings with wisdom, make courage your blade,

If loyalty's light never fades, darkness will one day be tamed..."

The melody was strange yet solemn. Ian sang along softly, a trace of reminiscence in his expression.

The Sorting Ceremony began.

The first student called was Hannah Abbott.

Then another name rang out—"Susan Bones."

Ian's gaze softened.

She was Amelia's niece, which made her his cousin.

The hat was placed on the girl's head, and a whisper emerged:

"Outstanding talent, rigorous training, stable magic within you... Clearly, a powerful wizard stands behind you.

"He taught you how to think and seek knowledge. Ravenclaw would be a fine choice.

"But that yearning to be acknowledged also reveals ambition and pride—Slytherin would suit you just as well.

"Yet loyalty and diligence run deeper. Your efforts deserve respect—Hufflepuff!"

Applause broke out across the hall.

Ian gave a slight nod, a smile touching the corners of his lips.

The course of fate had not changed. It still followed the path laid out in the original story.

"Looks like the training wasn't enough," he murmured, his eyes darkening slightly.

The Sorting continued.

When Harry Potter put on the Sorting Hat, the entire hall fell silent for several seconds.

A moment later, the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Thunderous cheers rang through the hall.

Dumbledore rose to applaud, more enthusiastically than any student.

Pride sparkled in McGonagall's eyes, while Snape's expression was cold and gloomy.

At the end of the High Table, Professor Babbling noticed that Ian was merely applauding slowly, his expression calm.

She turned her head and teased him, "Mr. Ian doesn't seem very excited. Are you worried the Savior will steal your spotlight?"

"Perhaps."

Ian smiled faintly, his tone mild. "But the spotlight is insignificant. What truly matters is whether the Wizarding World can still accommodate new possibilities."

Babbling raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a challenge to prophecy."

"Prophecy is nothing more than a hypothesis that has yet to be disproven."

When he finished speaking, a ripple spread across the red wine in his cup.

Moonlight poured through the windows, spilling across the silver plates on the High Table, weaving light and shadow into cold, sharp patterns.

Ian stared at the moon.

Behind that radiance, quietly waiting, were Moon Base and the World Gate that had yet to open completely.

Hogwarts' lights were warm and familiar,

but deep within his heart, the fire known as his obsession with Truth still burned silently.