novelslam Chapter 240, Page 239: Substitute Teaching, but it's a pity it's not me!
Chapter 240, Page 239: Substitute Teaching, but it's a pity it's not me!
Chapter 240, Page 239: Substitute Teaching, but it's a pity it's not me!
The room was filled with an atmosphere that blended antiquity and mystery.
The light was dim and yellowish.
Some dust particles danced freely in the dim light.
The black-robed skeleton seemed to enjoy being in this kind of environment. Sometimes, after Ian left the House of Requirement, she would make some changes to the interior design that Ian originally liked.
"I don't even know your name."
Ian's gaze fell directly on the black-robed skeleton, and a wave of emotion washed over him. The once dazzling and vibrant goddess was now nothing but a white skeleton.
How could he not be filled with emotion at such a changed world? It's truly unimaginable that the gods have died and the demons have vanished, and that the world's transformation has been so drastic.
Ian wondered curiously what had happened to the black-robed skeleton and those so-called gods that turned them from invincible powerhouses into what they were now.
Thinking about this...
Ian's gaze naturally fell on the wand in his hand, his eyes full of inquiry, and he thought to himself, "I wonder if the power of the Skull Goddess is hidden in this wand."
The core of this wand is a raven feather, which, according to Merlin, contains the power of the gods.
Perhaps the black-robed skull's divine power was also contained within it.
"Is this divine power gathering?" Ian subconsciously shook his wand, but apart from the movement of air, there was no strange phenomenon like the power of the sun god that he had expected.
This was not unexpected for Ian. He had just had a sudden idea to "borrow" some power, but unfortunately his wand did not respond to his request.
Perhaps it was the wand that understood him perfectly, knowing he was the kind of person who would never repay what he "borrowed," the little wizard pursed his lips, his face full of disappointment.
"We're of one mind, and you're playing tricks on me. Letting me borrow it a little earlier won't cost you a single ounce of wood." Ian's persuasion failed, and he immediately hid the wand behind his back. Such petty tricks—he didn't get the result he wanted.
I just want to refuse my own magic wand and eat my own exhaust fumes instead.
"You really don't remember anything from the past? You've forgotten about the 50 million tons of gold you owe me, haven't you? Well, then remember it now so you don't forget it later."
The young wizard tried to communicate with the black-robed skeleton again, asking about her and the gods, but to no avail. He only received a few stuttering, unanswered questions. Ian heard that familiar phrase for the nth time.
"I need love, love can—can make me grow flesh and blood, and a brain—a brain." Perhaps the black-robed skeleton had become a little smarter and knew how to use its brain to boost Ian's motivation. The implication, of course, was that it hoped Ian could give it flesh and blood, so that once it had a brain, it could answer Ian's questions.
In this regard.
Ian can understand.
But he didn't know what to do—after hesitating for a moment, Ian tried it himself; he simply hugged the black-robed skull's skeletal head and kissed it a few times.
however.
Nothing happened.
"I told you it was useless!" Ian comforted himself that he hadn't lost out, at least the black-robed skeleton looked pretty good in front of the goddess, while helplessly admitting that he really had no idea what was going on.
The black-robed skeleton, who had been kissed a few times, didn't react much. She couldn't offer any detailed advice on what Ian should do, given Ian's helpless expression.
"flesh"
She lowered her head, petting the Dementor. That somewhat resentful Nen left Ian rather helpless; was it because she didn't love him enough?
You can't exactly let him stick out his tongue and lick the skeleton of the black-robed skull, can you?
Another pervert!
How disgusting!
"Let me think of another way—" Ian shook his head as he walked to the back of the room, the entire Requirement room filled with the bitter aroma unique to potions.
Those were potions Ian brewed in this room before he traveled to the past. However, due to a lack of time for optimal stirring and other processing, they were no longer perfect.
There are even cases where the potion is completely ruined during brewing. That's how potion brewing works; even a slight difference in time can destroy months of effort.
"This debt should be attributed to Riddle." Ian roughly calculated his losses, then multiplied them by ten and wrote them down in his notebook as compensation for the time he had wasted.
If Riddle were still alive, he felt he would definitely have to make Riddle pay off the debt; as for the possibility that Riddle was dead, that would be even better for the young wizard.
The dreamlike illusion has vanished.
Riddle could be eaten alive by him for the rest of his life!
"These are all good stuff, Uncle's collectible materials, sigh, they've all been ruined." Ian squatted down and examined the failed potions in the dozen or so cauldrons.
Some potions still offer a chance to be salvaged.
then.
He immediately began to salvage the situation—the final product was of course not very good, only passable, but Ian did manage to spill it all into bottles and label them as Snape's products.
"These should be enough to sell to the apothecaries in Diagon Alley." Ian was trying to cut his losses and recoup his losses, so he turned his attention back to the potions that had been completely ruined.
The liquid in several cauldrons had become murky and beyond repair, a complete failure. However, this did not stump the resourceful genius of Hogwarts.
All I saw was...
Ian found some new materials.
"There are no failed potions, only potion masters who don't know how to use them." He muttered to himself as he added ingredients to the failed potion, and the liquid immediately became clear and transparent.
It even had an alluring pearly luster.
This is certainly not a successful remedy; it's merely a superficial embellishment, like putting on makeup and a filter for a potion—all that glitters on the outside, rotten on the inside. It looks like a high-quality potion, but what kind of effects it will have after consumption—only God knows.
"Perfect. The suckers in Knockturn Alley will love it." Ian's conscience wouldn't bother him, you see...
Of the ten wizards lurking in Tumblecomb Alley, eleven out of ten were not good people. He even felt that the more potent his potions were, the faster his merit points would rise.
The more you think.
Ian felt increasingly like a genius.
He won twice more.
"I wonder if those dark wizards in Knockout Alley have any real valuable materials in their collections. I could rob the rich to help the poor," Ian couldn't help but sigh as he cleaned the potion pile. He sorted through his remaining materials, regretting that he hadn't brought back any high-quality potion ingredients from the past.
This is similar to traditional Chinese medicine materials.
Well, times are changing. It's not just the Muggle world; the wizarding world is also starting to see the cultivation of potion ingredients, and the potion-making effects of these ingredients are becoming more and more questionable each year.
Therefore.
If one could travel through time to collect potions, that would be an excellent method.
"Those who play with time are easily played by time." Ian picked up the time converter given to him by Merlin, weighed it repeatedly in his hand, and his eyes were full of hesitation.
He knew that time travel was full of uncertainties, and that the slightest mistake could lead to unpredictable consequences. He was extremely conflicted and couldn't make up his mind.
The risks of going back in time to obtain medicinal herbs must be considerable, as it's hard to say whether a particular herb from the past might provide crucial assistance to someone who was pivotal in history.
I thought about it.
Ian felt he didn't need to do that yet, so he put the time converter away again. Just then, a glass bottle rolled out of the pile of herbs.
All I saw was...
The gray, misty soul in the bottle seemed to be asleep. This was the soul of the Soul Temple creature that Ian had "contained" in the past, and he had brought it from the past to the present.
This clearly violates the laws of time travel, but existence is its own justification. It's just unknown whether this soul is special, or if the so-called Soul Palace is capable of traveling through different times.
"I sense a dangerous aura!" Just then, the previously quiet and dormant soul seemed to sense something and suddenly awoke.
Its illusory eyes were filled with panic as it stared in terror at the Dementor not far away. The moment the Dementor sensed the soul,
The head, which had been hanging low, was raised instantly.
Its mouth suddenly opened, and it began to inhale frantically, as if it wanted to swallow the soul whole.
"Hiss hiss hiss~"
The Dementor was almost sucking itself into an air conditioner, but luckily it was tightly bound by the black-robed skeleton, like a pet on a rope, struggling but unable to break free.
At this moment, the wolf in its spirit form bristled with fur, staring intently at the Dementor outside the bottle, its eyes filled with undisguised panic and worry.
obviously.
Dementors are natural enemies of spirits like the Big Bad Wolf.
"Strange..." Ian frowned in thought. "Ordinary Dementors shouldn't have such a strong attraction to souls..." He thought of the Horcruxes' Horcruxes. If Dementors could devour soul fragments so easily...
What need is there for a savior prophecy?
Is it that our own Dementor is special, or is the Soul Palace's soul body special in this respect? To find out, we need to locate the Soul Palace.
The Big Bad Wolf is Ian's only clue.
therefore.
He couldn't let the Dementors try to devour the clue.
"You better shut up!"
Ian shouted at the Dementor, quickly shoving the bottle back into his pocket. The Dementor, held down by the black-robed skeleton, struggled a few times before finally quieting down.
I can tell.
The allure of the Big Bad Wolf's spirit was strong—which, upon reflection, makes sense. The Big Bad Wolf embodies fairy tales, and what in this world is more beautiful than fairy tales?
The idea that the more beautiful something is, the more alluring it is to Dementors does make sense.
"If you gasp again, I'll sew your mouth shut." Ian's threat was highly effective, and the Dementor immediately restrained its instincts and shrank into a ball.
Its wisdom is becoming more and more apparent.
It could even recognize that the little wizard actually had a mouth and could sew it. Seeing the Dementor quiet down, Ian quickly raised the cauldron and began brewing a new round of potions.
After most of the steps were planned, it was time for afternoon classes.
The afternoon class was Defense Against the Dark Arts, one of Ian's favorite subjects. When he entered the classroom, he was surprised to find that today's professor was none other than the familiar Professor Lockhart.
"Didn't the headmaster say he wasn't here?" Ian asked, slightly surprised, but he didn't ask further, because many young wizards were already sitting in this classroom that carried a certain psychological burden for everyone. None of them dared to be late; after all, Ian didn't dare either. This situation clearly demonstrated what kind of punishment would be given for being late.
Why is Michael crying?
Ian found his two roommates, while William comforted the crying Michael.
"He went to ask the black girl if she was a 'green tea' (a manipulative woman), and she ignored him," William explained helplessly. This situation was something Ian hadn't anticipated.
"Wow!"
Ian gave Michael a thumbs up.
This roommate actually has high emotional intelligence, so why is she so frustrating when it comes to relationships? Is this what happens when you're love-struck?
Both of them began to comfort Michael.
of course.
William offered the most comfort.
Ian was promoting his "love potion"—the Ministry of Magic stipulates that selling love potions is illegal, but there is no rule that potion makers cannot brew love potions. What is a potion master?
This is the true master of potions!
If there is a need.
Ian can also concoct a potion that will make you never fall in love with a woman again after drinking it, but there are still some side effects, such as the possibility of falling in love with a man instead, that haven't been eliminated.
of course.
With his keen intuition, Ian thought that perhaps this side effect didn't need to be eliminated. After all, it was common knowledge that a certain well-known men's energy booster was originally invented as a treatment for heart disease.
On the land of England.
Perhaps this side effect shouldn't even be called a side effect?
Just as the young wizard was thinking that his potion of forgetfulness was also a genius invention, Professor Lockhart on the podium cleared his throat and began his lecture.
The blond wizard was still wearing that flashy violet robe, his smile dazzlingly bright, but his eyes lacked the sharpness that Grindelwald was known for.
"What's going on? Is it another imposter? But it doesn't quite look like one." Ian wondered to himself, while the professor on the podium was unaware of this.
He is still attending classes diligently.
"Today we'll learn a simple spell—Serpent Emerges from its Hole." The fake Lockhart waved his wand and wrote a few incantations on the blackboard. Although the lesson was indeed much more detailed than before, Ian keenly noticed that the professor's magical energy fluctuations were unbelievably weak.
Of course, he was certainly much stronger than most wizards, but he definitely didn't reach Grindelwald's level—and Professor Lockhart's lectures were flawless, detailed, and full of valuable information. Yet Ian still felt that the other person was strange, and something just didn't seem right.
"Grindelwald won't be that patient!"
Ian, lost in thought, watched Lockhart pass by.
He suddenly reached out and touched the other person's hand. Professor Lockhart was clearly startled by this unexpected action and turned around sharply to glare at Ian.
Then.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he continued with the lesson. But Ian immediately understood what was going on when he touched the other person's hand—it turned out that the "Lockhart" professor in front of him was actually his good friend Miss Aurora in disguise, and Aurora was teaching the young wizards in place of his grandfather.
Perhaps it's an emergency measure?
Could it be training for Aurora?
Regardless, Ian felt he should have realized this earlier, since similar plots appeared in the few Harry Potter books he had read.
"Sigh, it's a pity that I'm not the main character, such a good thing didn't happen to me." To be honest, Ian didn't care about showing off or not, what pained him was that he didn't have such a rare opportunity.
If we let him substitute for the class.
Then he could legitimately and legally teach everyone some truly powerful techniques! Why bother with this "snake emerging from its hole" trick? If outsiders saw this, they'd think Hogwarts didn't have its own Unforgivable Curse!