Chapter 8: The Experience Left by the Ancestors

The night was as dark as ink.

Soft moonlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow over the quiet bedroom. Ian's long eyelashes fluttered as his eyes slowly opened, revealing bright emerald-green irises that shimmered under the light.

From initial confusion to focused clarity, Ian instinctively turned his gaze toward the old-fashioned clock on the wall. As expected, the hands pointed at 12:07.

It had always been this way.

Every time he returned from the dreamlike realm, the hour hand might vary, but the minute hand was always fixed on that peculiar, almost magical number.

Seven.

Ian had no idea what kind of secret lay behind this strange phenomenon. He only knew that, once every week without fail, he would experience something remarkably similar.

Normally, in that dream realm, he would only encounter Ariana and, on rare occasions, Pandero. But this time, there had been someone else—an enigmatic noblewoman, a witch whose origins were shrouded in mystery.

"She asked me to retrieve a mirror she left behind in the real world..."

Ian wasn't sure whether this noblewoman was good or evil. Perhaps it was too simplistic to judge a soul in such binary terms. He was simply curious about her identity.

A witch, residing in a mystical castle within the dream realm.

Had she once been a famous figure in the wizarding world? Given her regal and elegant demeanor, she was clearly no ordinary sorceress.

"Was she from the last century, or a figure from the Middle Ages?"

Ian's understanding of the magical world was limited to a handful of films with unimpressive special effects and a few conspiracy-laden fan theories.

Because of that, he could only grasp a vague outline of the world's hidden secrets. The only mirror he could recall was the legendary Mirror of Erised, the one used to safeguard the Philosopher's Stone at the beginning of the story.

A golden frame.

A mirror that reveals one's deepest, most desperate desire.

If that was the mirror the witch sought, and if it was destined to appear in Hogwarts, then perhaps Ian really had a chance to bring it into the dream realm and deliver it to her.

"But can I even take something that big with me? It's not like carrying candy into the dream."

Ian had never attempted anything like that before.

Truth be told, he was still baffled by his own extraordinary ability. Even after all these years, he hadn't fully figured out why he could bring sweets into the dream realm but not his own bed.

Of course, being able to enter the dream realm at all was already an exceptionally rare gift. Just as the mysterious witch had told him:

"Ian… you are special."

But what exactly did this special quality mean? Perhaps only she knew. Ian could tell that the noblewoman in the dream was deeply interested in that very question.

"Learning magic from her..."

Ian couldn't deny that the idea was tempting. But he had no way of knowing whether her kindness was genuine or just a means to an end.

If she was the previous owner of the Mirror of Erised, then she was likely an ancient spirit—one whose thoughts and motives could be even more elusive than those of a living woman.

"And she's a beautiful ghost too..."

"I don't need to take that risk. Magic is something I can learn at school too. The professors there aren't necessarily weaker than a witch from my dreams."

Reason triumphed over temptation.

Ian suppressed the urge to explore the unknown.

Like the wisdom passed down by his ancestors, he knew that in his homeland, certain traditions ran deep—aside from their love for tea and peculiar humor, they had a long history of wariness toward mysterious figures offering 'special guidance.'

What if the witch had... certain interests?

Or worse—what if her idea of 'playing' wasn't the same as Ian's idea of 'playing'? That was not a gamble he wanted to take.

"Nope. Not worth the risk. May Merlin's Gatling Gun protect me."

Having made up his mind, Ian adjusted his pillow, closed his eyes, and drifted into a more ordinary, restful sleep.

For now, the ethereal realm could wait.

---

Ian woke up feeling refreshed.

There was an extra lightness to his movements, as if some invisible weight had lifted. No one knew what kind of dream he had conjured for himself, but he carried an air of quiet confidence.

[Successfully read Roman script. Language Proficiency +1]

[Successfully read Roman script. Language Proficiency +1]

[Successfully read Roman script. Language Proficiency +1]

Before the sun even peeked over the horizon, Ian was already buried in his studies. He took the enhancement of his Linguistic Mastery skill very seriously.

After all, he had a theory—if this skill developed far enough, it might grant him a unique gift, one that even many wizards lacked.

The ability to communicate with animals.

He wasn't hoping for Parseltongue, but if he could at least understand emotions and intentions like Newt Scamander, that would be enough.

"Of course, if I end up being able to hear the voices of all things, I wouldn't complain either."

Blame his eclectic reading habits from his past life. Last night's dream had apparently involved him playing the role of a pirate king.

[Successfully read Roman script. Language Proficiency +1]

[Successfully read Roman script. Language Proficiency +1]

Ian's train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a commotion outside.

Hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway, accompanied by the sound of something crashing to the floor.

A few moments later, someone banged on his door.

"Ian! Ian! Hurry up! The teachers from school are here again!"

It was Catherine, breathless and excited, her little hands drumming against the door. The children seemed more eager about his schooling than he was.

"Hogwarts sent someone already?"

Ian frowned slightly, both surprised and curious.

He opened the door, and—whoosh!—a group of kids who had been pressing against it tumbled forward in a chaotic heap.

"Ian! Ian! Miss Elena is calling for you! Are you leaving for school?"

"Will you come back? Can you bring us a teacher too?"

"Try to use your charm to seduce the female professors!"

The orphans chattered away, their words a mix of curiosity and unexpectedly mature humor—children in places like this tended to grow up fast.

"Will you come back and teach us?"

Catherine, the only one who understood what Hogwarts truly was, looked at him with hopeful eyes.

"If I can... then of course."

Ian ruffled their hair but made no real promises. Maybe Catherine had a chance of entering Hogwarts, but for most of them, that door would remain closed.

"I'll take you to Miss Elena!"

Catherine eagerly pulled him along, the other children following close behind.

As they walked, she leaned in and whispered, her voice tinged with unease.

"Ian, I don't want to go to that school anymore. The teacher who came today... he looks like that evil wizard you told me about."

Ian's brow furrowed.

"Evil wizard?"

They arrived at the headmistress's office. The door was open.

And inside, sitting across from Miss Elena, was a figure draped in shadow—his presence alone sent a wave of tension through the room.

Even without seeing his face, Ian could feel the oppressive aura.

Like the dark wizards he had encountered before.

His heart sank.

"Why him?!"

Where was his kind, bearded, twinkling-eyed headmaster?

Why was it this bat-like figure instead?