The second day of school.
Ian experienced an epic blow akin to the treatment Harry Potter received.
"What did you say? I killed the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? How could I not know?"
Ian's legs weren't actually short, but his current height was somewhat limited, making it hard to keep up with Penelope's long strides.
"Don't worry too much. Anyone with normal intelligence can understand that it's not you. I don't think the professors are foolish enough to believe the nonsense of a troublesome Slytherin."
"What a joke, it's utterly ridiculous. Only someone with their brain kicked by a Giant would accuse a newly arrived little Wizard of murdering a powerful adult Wizard."
"He might as well say Professor Erich was magically attacked by Filch, who has been hiding for decades!" Penelope said, as she stood up for Ian and shared a hellish joke.
If the administrator Filch were here, he'd definitely feel it's hellish.
"Who accused me?"
Ian wasn't overly worried. He had only had a minor conflict with Peeves yesterday, so as long as Peeves wasn't tattling, it shouldn't be a difficult situation for him.
He didn't do it.
A Slytherin brat pinning it on him?
His autobiography, Hogwarts: Me and My Uncle, the Dean, was still being drafted but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Snape wouldn't just stand by and watch him be falsely accused and sent to Azkaban, right?
"Marcus Flint, a fourth-year student, a Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch team; his family is part of the rubbish Divine Twenty-Eight Clans."
"He must be doing this because of Daphne Greengrass, tsk tsk, trying to curry favor with the Greengrass family. These pure-blood families are indeed no good."
Penelope paused slightly before adding, "At least the Weasley family is somewhat better, though their twins are annoying pests as well."
She seemed to emphasize it to someone.
"Greengrass' matter?" Ian chose not to mention that he might also be a pure-blood, but was surprised to be accused due to Daphne Greengrass.
After school started.
He hadn't interacted with Daphne Greengrass, even the gift prepared for her was temporarily held off as she remained comatose.
"Rumor has it in Slytherin that before Daphne Greengrass fell unconscious, the last word she spoke was your name. Someone suspects you cast an evil curse on her on the ferry."
"Your friend Aurora Grindelwald has scolded a few people for this, but there's always some idiot who believes that the professors cannot distinguish the effects of an evil curse."
Penelope's voice carried a hint of helplessness.
It was Ian's first time realizing how poor his reputation was at Hogwarts.
He was just a freshman.
"I didn't cast an evil curse on her. Even if Miss Greengrass called me a 'Mudblood' on the ferry, I merely wished she would turn over a new leaf." Ian's words evoked Penelope's empathy, as she too had been attacked for being from a Muggle family.
"It's an incredibly rude term, entirely a form of discrimination, and only those disgusting Slytherin pure-bloods stoop to such lowly behavior!"
"You're the victim here, and yet they're trying to bite back, it's infuriating!" Penelope resonated deeply, increasingly feeling indignant for Ian.
"I believe the wise professors will prove my innocence." Ian followed Penelope through the long corridors and up the revolving path.
The top of the West Tower.
Apart from several professors from different colleges, there were some Prefects assisting in the search, Ravenclaw's male Prefect Ditrik was arguing with a bucktoothed student.
"That was him! I saw it with my own eyes! No mistake!" Marcus Flint had a face full of buck teeth due to inbreeding and spoke firmly.
Even though Snape stood beside him, looking somber.
He remained steadfast.
"When the professors ask you later, just tell the truth," Penelope advised carefully, before leading Ian towards the scene.
The corpse was found in the Owl Shed.
A pile of straw concealed Professor Ronnie Ehrlich's scattered remains in the deepest part, so the morning search by the professors turned up nothing suspicious.
According to Penelope's description en route, Marcus Flint claimed he overcame his inner fear to step forward and expose the murderer.
If not,
The professors might have spent much more time locating the body.
"Professors, I've brought Ian."
Entering the shed.
The damp, faintly decaying scent assaulted them.
Snape stared bleakly at Marcus Flint. Dumbledore frowned at the pile of corpse fragments, and Ravenclaw's Dean Flitwick crouched besides, inspecting the remains.
Ian hadn't anticipated that his first meeting the Dean of his college would be under these circumstances, but Flitwick hadn't looked up to see him at this moment.
"How terrifying."
Penelope turned pale again upon seeing the pieced-together corpse fragments unearthed; however, she stood alongside male Prefect Ditrik by Ian's side.
The other three colleges' Prefects were also present and glanced at Ian with uncertainty, Gryffindor's Prefect Percy Weasley looked somewhat frightened.
"That's him!"
Marcus Flint pointed at Ian.
Ian ignored him.
The corpse was bloody and brutal on the ground. Flies buzzed around the pieced-together remains, Ian's gaze lingered momentarily on the body.
Prompted by male Prefect Ditrik's hushed reminder, he saw a palm-sized patch of black-red on the wall of the straw pile, with a line of curved, shocking blood words:
"Prince"
Like some kind of blood inscription reminder, blood dripped down at the end, a very indicative "last word," naturally it was the surname Ian possessed.
"Crude framing methods."
Ian spoke softly, his tone calm.
"Mr. Prince, you're right, a dismembered body can't write, but Mr. Flint said he saw you here killing Professor Ronnie Ehrlich."
Professor McGonagall stood there with a solemn face, her eyes dignified as she gazed at Ian, her tone wasn't severe, but very solemn.
"Flint? The giant mixed blood standing over there spewing nonsense?" Ian looked towards Marcus Flint's direction, his words infuriated the other.
Lies don't hurt.
Truth is the sharp knife.
Marcus Flint indeed bore some resemblance to a giant.
"How dare you insult me! You damned murderer!" Marcus Flint raged, trying to rush forward, but Snape held his top firmly.
His two prefects stood nearby without speaking, their heads turned as if seriously counting ants on the ground.
"If you saw me kill, especially a professor, would you dare to act so fierce towards me?" Ian sneered with disdain.
"The professors are here, what can you do to me?" Marcus Flint, under the pressure of his head, continued to shout aggressively at Ian.
"You'll go to Azkaban! Don't think you'll ever come out!"
The pain in his head.
This fourth-year student's expression was pained.
But he persisted as usual.
"Stop rambling, Ian is just a first-year little wizard, do you think everyone is like your Dark Wizard clans, learning Dark Arts from a young age?"
Senior Penelope directly helped Ian retort Marcus Flint.
Snape's expression was a bit odd.
But he didn't speak.
At this moment.
Dean Flitwick, having examined the body fragments, stood up. He first gave Ian a reassuring nod, then shook his head at the other professors, saying softly.
"It was Severus's initial version of the Sectumsempra Spell."
His words left the prefects bewildered, Snape sighed in relief, Professor McGonagall's expression was also more relaxed, and Dumbledore timely looked at Ian.
His gaze was gentle, his tone very soft.
"Mr. Prince, do you mind if we check your magic wand? Of course, it's just a precaution." Dumbledore seemingly didn't give Ian the option to refuse.
No choice.
Ian could only take out his magic wand and hand it over. At Dumbledore's signal, Dean Flitwick stepped forward and took Ian's wand.
"Don't worry, kid, we won't wrong the innocent." Dean Flitwick felt he was reassuring Ian, only Ian knew he indeed cast Sectumsempra yesterday.
However.
Dean Flitwick's mention of the initial version of Sectumsempra was evidently a very crucial discovery, Ian thought it implied some fascinating information.
Dean Flitwick brought Ian's wand back to Dumbledore.
Ian knew what they were about to do with the wand.
Prior Incantato.
A spell that checks what magic a wand has previously cast.
"Oh."
Ian was somewhat depressed.
He wasn't afraid of exposing yesterday's dispute with Peeves in front of all the professors and senior students, whose ancestors didn't have a bit of unique bloodline and abilities?
Silly Barnabas even said Ian's ancestors slept with ghosts.
Being able to interact with ghosts isn't a secret that needs hiding.
The reason for his sigh.
Was that in Slytherin College, there were still rumors about him casting an Evil Curse on Daphne, and after today, the rumors would only grow darker.
After all.
He indeed knew Evil Curses.
"Prior Incantato!"
What's meant to come always does.
Seeing Dean Flitwick cast the spell on his wand.
Ian just decided to explain.
However.
"What's this? My spell was rejected? How can this happen? Impossible!" Dean Flitwick, this spell master, seemed to face an unforeseen situation.
Elder Wood, Unicorn Tail Hair.
This wand that shouldn't exist in the world.
At this moment.
Offered loyalty to its master.