— Following the castle’s ever-shifting staircases, Ian quickly arrived at the quarters Professor McGonagall had prepared for him.
Pushing the door open, Ian was surprised to find that the room was by no means small, equipped with basic amenities.
“Though the cleanliness leaves much to be desired.
Did the Hogwarts house-elves go on holiday too?” Muttering a complaint, Ian put down his leather trunk and was just about to pull out his wand to tidy up when a female voice came from behind him: “Oh, doing the cleaning by hand yourself can offer a different kind of experience sometimes.” Ian turned around.
Standing behind him was a plump woman, looking at him with a gentle smile.
She was not tall, built sturdily like an old tree stump.
Her gray hair was tucked under a patched hat, and the front of her apron was smudged with semi-circular patches of dirt, looking as though she had just come straight from the greenhouses.
It was none other than the Head of Hufflepuff, Professor Pomona Sprout.
“Professor Sprout!
It’s so good to see you again!” Ian stepped forward and pulled the plump witch into a firm hug.
Professor Sprout accepted Ian’s hug with a smile, gently patting his back with her dirt-stained hands.
“Welcome back to Hogwarts, child!” That single phrase almost broke through Ian’s emotional defenses, making his eyes well up instantly.
He buried his face in her shoulder, taking in the familiar, earthy scent clinging to her robes.
Sensing Ian’s rare vulnerability, Professor Sprout gently comforted him like a loving mother soothing her own child.
It was a long moment before Ian pulled back from her embrace.
Looking at her sheepishly, he spoke with a slightly thick voice: “Professor, I was actually just about to go looking for you.
Look, this is the appointment letter I just got from Professor McGonagall.” Like a child showing off a prized possession, Ian held the letter out in front of Professor Sprout’s eyes.
If Harry or Gandalf were here to witness this version of Ian, their jaws would have certainly dropped.
Smiling, Professor Sprout took the letter from him and unrolled it to read carefully, her eyes lingering over the name Ian Evans.
A moment later, she folded the letter back up, handed it back to Ian, and said with immense gratification, “It seems little Ian has finally realized what he ought to be doing.” At her words, Ian lowered his head, feeling a pang of shame.
He had to admit that when he chose Hufflepuff back then, his primary thought had been to spend a peaceful, quiet seven years here.
When he first entered the school, he had been like a wounded little beast, deeply wary of everything and everyone around him.
Because he knew all too well that Hogwarts was far from safe—among his very peers were fanatical followers of Voldemort.
That was precisely why, after seven years, Hagrid only remembered him as a Hufflepuff student without any deeper impression.
Yet there was one exception to this: Professor Sprout.
The Head of Hufflepuff possessed the truest, most traditional virtues of her House.
Like a matriarch caring for a giant family, she embraced all students equally, even the so-called “bad kids.” It was precisely by taking advantage of that warmth and acceptance that Ian had been able to secure additional resources for his growth, including permission to borrow from the Restricted Section.
Meeting Professor Sprout again filled Ian with a complicated surge of emotions—shame, certainly, but overwhelmingly, joy.
He invited the witch inside, and before her bewildered, half-amused expression, he unlatched his trunk and stepped right into it.
Professor Sprout wasn’t particularly surprised by this; after all, this was an old Hufflepuff tradition.
The most famous example was Newt Scamander, author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, who also happened to be Ian’s senior alumnus.
Before long, Ian climbed back out of the trunk, holding a small box in his hands.
He carefully set the box down in front of Professor Sprout, a hint of pride on his face.
“Professor, take a look at the gift I prepared for you.
I guarantee it’ll give you a real shock.” Professor Sprout shook her head with a smile, not taking it too seriously.
Receiving a gift from Ian naturally delighted her, but she doubted there was anything that could truly astonish her.
Hogwarts might not be the absolute best magic school in the world, but it was undoubtedly the richest place in terms of magical resources.
Still, she didn’t say anything to dismiss him.
In her eyes, seeing Ian standing before her now—confident and spirited—was already the best gift imaginable.
However, the moment she opened the box, her expression transformed completely, and she bolted upright from her seat.
“This is…” Her eyes widened in utter disbelief as she stared fixedly at the contents of the box.
It took a long time before Professor Sprout could pull her gaze away.
Reluctantly holding the box back out to him, she said with clear hesitation, “Child, this gift is far too valuable.
I…
I cannot accept this.” With that, she abruptly averted her face, as if terrified that another look would make her go back on her word.
Seeing such an endearing side to the old professor, Ian couldn’t help letting out a soft laugh.
Receiving a look of flustered annoyance from her, however, he quickly reined in his laughter.
“Ahem,” Ian cleared his throat lightly and coaxed softly, “Professor, please just accept it.
I prepared this specifically for you.” Seeing her about to decline again, Ian offered her a sly wink.
“Besides, I believe you’re the only one who could actually grow it successfully.
If it stays in my hands, it’ll just go to waste.” Professor Sprout shook her head repeatedly at his words.
From the meticulous care taken to preserve the seed, she could tell that this student’s attainment in magical botany was hardly inferior to her own.
Yes—what Ian had presented to Professor Sprout was a seed.
Not just any ordinary seed, but a seed from the legendary “Golden Apple.” Of course, its actual effects were nowhere near as exaggerated as those in mythical lore, but it remained an extraordinarily rare magical plant—which was precisely why Professor Sprout hesitated to take it.
Seeing the old professor so adamant, Ian had no choice but to adjust his approach.
“Professor, if we plant this seed in the greenhouses, you wouldn’t object to that, would you?” “Well…” As Professor Sprout hesitated, Ian closed the lid of the box and pushed it directly in front of her.
Ultimately unable to resist such a gift, Professor Sprout accepted the box half-reluctantly, saying with sheepish embarrassment, “Then…
I suppose I’ll…
give it a try?” Ian smiled and nodded.
Over the next two days, Ian was dragged by Professor Sprout to remain in Greenhouse Three, nearly missing the Start-of-Term Feast altogether.
…
September 1st, 7:00 PM.
Ian was finally rescued from the greenhouses by Professor McGonagall.
“Professor, thank you so much!” On the way to the Great Hall, Ian expressed his heartfelt gratitude to Professor McGonagall, looking for all the world like a survivor of a narrow escape.
Professor McGonagall shot him a peculiar glance, asking with a touch of curiosity, “What on earth did you give Pomona to make her act so frantically?” Ian laughed vaguely, choosing not to answer directly.
A mythical curiosity like the Golden Apple wasn’t something he wanted too many people knowing about just yet, especially since he wasn’t even certain if it could be successfully cultivated in this world.
At his evasion, Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes at him affectionately, grumbling, “Honestly, every last one of you acting so secretive.
You’re like this, and Pomona is like this too.” Ian gave an awkward smile, keeping his silence.
Professor McGonagall was not one to pry relentlessly either.
Seeing that Ian had no intention of answering, she dropped the matter.
Before long, the two arrived at the doors of the Great Hall.
Since Professor McGonagall had to lead the new students in for the Sorting Ceremony shortly, the two parted ways at the entrance.
Stepping inside, the Great Hall was brilliantly illuminated, with the long tables of the four Houses already packed with students.
Ian cast a quick glance over the crowds and didn’t spot Harry, realizing he was likely still floating across the Black Lake.
This was a slight disappointment for Ian, who had hoped to catch a glimpse of the other two members of the golden trio.
Ian’s entry didn’t attract much attention.
Aside from a few older students casting extra glances his way, the rest of the students were entirely focused on the feast laid out before them—they were ravenous today.
Ian was more than happy to keep a low profile.
Noddng to Dumbledore, who was looking in his direction, he walked briskly to an empty seat at the far end of the staff table and sat down.
“H-Hello…
I am…
Quirrell.” Just as Ian reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice to line his stomach, a stammering voice sounded beside him, accompanied by a sharp, pungent odor of garlic.
Ian couldn’t help frowning slightly.
Turning his head, he found a wizard with a thick turban wrapped around his head and a rather pale complexion.
“Quirrell!” Ian repeated the wizard’s name under his breath, a sharp glint flashing through his eyes.
If he remembered correctly, the remnant soul of Voldemort was currently attached to the back of Quirrell’s head.
‘Should I just blow Voldemort’s cover right here and now?’ Ian rubbed his chin, entertaining a somewhat mischievous thought.
Of course, it was merely a fleeting thought; he would never actually do such a thing.
After all, the Great Hall was filled with students.
On the other side, Quirrell was feeling exceptionally nervous upon seeing Ian.
He remembered vividly that the Dark Lord had cast the Killing Curse at the person right in front of him.
No one could survive the Killing Curse—that was an absolute consensus in the wizarding world.
Yet here Ian was, standing completely unscathed before his eyes.
How could he not be terrified?
Alongside his nervousness, however, lay a deep sense of curiosity as to how Ian had managed to block the Killing Curse with that shield of his.
That was the real reason he had initiated a greeting with Ian.
Aside from Quirrell, there was another person whose attention remained fixed on Ian’s appearance: Snape.
In truth, Snape had noticed Ian the very moment he walked in.
He had initially been complaining to Dumbledore about a certain professor.
As everyone knew, Professor Snape harbored a deep, persistent obsession regarding a particular subject.
Yet as he spoke, he noticed Dumbledore’s attention was no longer on him.
Following the Headmaster’s line of sight, Snape was shocked to see someone who should not have been there at all.
As Lily’s brother, even if Ian had kept a low profile throughout his school years, Snape remained intimately familiar with him.
Thus, he recognized Ian at a single glance.
“Evans?” Snape muttered in disbelief, his eyes locked onto those vibrant emerald-green eyes.