Ivy Doom was currently following Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape toward the Headmaster’s Office on the eighth floor of the main tower.
“I imagine quite a lot has happened in the British wizarding world over the past hundred years?” Ivy’s question was the first thing to break the silence hanging in the air.
No one answered.
After climbing another pair of staircases, Dumbledore finally spoke in his usual unhurried tone.
“Every person’s account carries a degree of personal bias.
Rather than hearing it from others, why not treat the last century of magical history as a mystery to explore through your own eyes, Mister Doom?”
Perhaps Ivy’s question had simply been too broad.
Or perhaps Dumbledore himself didn’t know where to begin.
More importantly, he had no idea what kind of wizarding world Ivy remembered.
“Fair enough…” Ivy replied vaguely before immediately asking another question.
“Has Hogwarts changed much?
The school system?
The teaching methods?”
“Nothing particularly noteworthy,” Snape answered without even turning around, his dry voice completely devoid of emotion.
“Other than repeatedly prying open the brains of idiots and forcing knowledge into them.”
“What I mean is—can I still attend Hogwarts?” Ivy clarified directly.
“I only studied here for a single year.
I didn’t even take my O.W.L.s!”
To Ivy, Hogwarts was practically a sacred treasure land.
And now it was 1991—the beginning of the original Harry Potter storyline.
There was no way he intended to miss all of that.
“Once we fully understand your situation, proper arrangements will be made,” Dumbledore said seriously as he stopped walking and turned toward him.
“Trust me, Mister Doom.
Once we reach my office, we can have a proper discussion.”
“As you wish, Professor.” Ivy politely closed his mouth.
“Lemon Sherbet.”
As Dumbledore spoke the password, the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s Office bowed slightly and stepped aside, revealing a spiraling staircase rising upward.
The office itself was circular, and to Ivy’s eyes, it had barely changed compared to a century earlier.
Bookshelves stuffed with countless volumes lined the walls beside display cabinets filled with bizarre magical devices.
Portraits of previous headmasters covered the circular walls.
Still, if there was any major difference between Dumbledore’s office and Phineas Nigellus Black’s old office, it was the addition of the glass case displaying Sword of Gryffindor—alongside the majestic phoenix Fawkes perched atop a golden branch.
“It’s summer vacation,” one of the portraits suddenly spoke up.
“So why is there a child wizard standing here, Albus?”
Ivy didn’t recognize the former headmaster.
“Even detention isn’t held during the holidays,” another portrait chimed in.
“So something unusual must have happened.
I heard that Harry Potter is enrolling this year…”
Ivy couldn’t help interrupting.
“Harry Potter?
Is he famous?”
“That is none of your concern.”
Snape’s icy response instantly cut off the portraits before they could answer.
He conjured a chair for Ivy and rather forcefully shoved him down into it.
“Phineas!
Phineas Nigellus Black!”
Dumbledore called out while searching among the portraits lining the wall.
“Would someone kindly fetch him for me?”
“Oh?
So even the greatest white wizard of the twentieth century occasionally requires my assistance?
How rare.”
A distinctly unpleasant voice echoed from the other side of the room, drawing the attention of all three living occupants.
“Excellent, Phineas!” Dumbledore sat back down in his chair the moment the portrait responded.
“This young man claims to have been one of your students.
Do you remember him?”
“Ivy Doom?” Phineas Black sounded deeply confused.
“The professors reported that you had died.
How exactly are you still alive?
And why do you look…
this young?”
“Some sort of magical accident nobody fully understands,” Ivy answered casually with a shrug before counterattacking with a question of his own.
“I’m more curious why Headmaster Black chose such an elderly portrait to represent himself as Headmaster.”
“It appears the two of you truly did know each other,” Dumbledore observed thoughtfully.
His eyes sparkled behind his spectacles as he casually popped a clicking candy into his mouth.
“Crunch, crunch…
Well then, perhaps we can discuss Ancient Magic?”
“Hmph.” Phineas Black made an annoyed sound through his painted nose.
“People always make Ancient Magic sound more impressive than it actually is.
Compared to modern magic, it’s nothing special.
Anything Ancient Magic can accomplish, modern magic can achieve as well—except modern magic is safer and easier to control.
Ancient Magic is primitive, unstable, and savage.”
Then he pointed accusingly toward Ivy.
“And isn’t this boy’s current situation proof enough of that?”
Ivy rolled his eyes.
“That was a necessary sacrifice made to stop the goblin Ranrok.
Even if I had to do it all over again—”
“I noticed you used the word sacrifice,” Dumbledore interrupted gently.
“What kind of situation would require a child to sacrifice himself?”
“It’s…
complicated,” Ivy admitted while organizing his thoughts.
“I’ll try to summarize it.”
“I was an Ancient Magic wielder.
Professor Fig discovered me and guided me into Hogwarts.
Around the same time, a dark wizard named Rookwood joined forces with the goblin Ranrok, and together they sought the power of Ancient Magic.”
“Meanwhile, several Hogwarts professors secretly inherited knowledge related to Ancient Magic.
Beneath Hogwarts, they created a hidden repository—the same underground chamber where you found me.”
“Ranrok used goblin silver to control magical beasts and force them to serve him.
Through goblins involved in constructing the repository, he eventually learned its location.
Then he literally drilled through the mountain itself and invaded the underground chambers beneath Hogwarts.”
“At the time, the professors fought outside against Ranrok’s followers while Professor Fig and I confronted Ranrok in the deepest part of the repository.”
“To defeat him, I had no choice but to release the power sealed within the repository.”
“And after that…
the next thing I remember is seeing you two.
Along with my body turning into this.”
Snape stared at him suspiciously.
“So a Muggle with no magical education defeated a threat to the wizarding world after studying magic for only a single year?”
His expression grew even colder.
“Perhaps I should arrange for my students to tour your brain.
It might help them earn a few more O.W.L.
certificates.”
“That’s because I had a special learning tool!”
Ivy immediately pulled a book from inside his robes.
“The Wizard’s Practical Guide!”
“Whoa—when did it become that?”
Ivy stared at the book in astonishment.
Originally, The Wizard’s Practical Guide had been nothing more than a simple notebook wrapped in leather with parchment pages inside.
But now it had transformed into an elegant magical tome decorated with gemstones and intricate gold-and-silver patterns.
“Maybe it deserves a new name now…” Ivy rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Ivy Doom’s Spell Tome!”
“The Doom Spell Tome?” Snape frowned deeply, instantly sensing trouble.
“Oh!
That sounds even better!” Ivy clapped enthusiastically at the misunderstanding.
(End of Chapter)