The Flashback Spell failed to perform successfully.
All the professors present, including Dumbledore, were extremely surprised. You know, as an expert in the field of spells, Filius Flitwick's understanding of magic is absolutely profound.
Speaking of dueling one-on-one.
The only person at Hogwarts who could definitely defeat him would be the greatest wizard of the twentieth century, Dumbledore. His master-level expertise in teaching the Spell Class surely wouldn't fail in casting the Flashback Spell.
"It rejected my Flashback Spell; I can't force this wand; otherwise, I'd destroy this child's partner," Flitwick realized the cause of the spell's failure.
He looked at Dumbledore with difficulty.
"It's really an unexpected situation."
Dumbledore stepped forward and took Ian's wand, examining it with great interest. That familiar feel and design, lacking only that alluring and intoxicating sense of power.
"Prior Incantato!"
He drew out his wand and cast the spell himself; however, the images only appeared for an instant, nothing discernible, and quickly collapsed like a landslide.
After the smoke cleared, it was as if nothing had happened.
"Very special wand."
It seemed Dumbledore wasn't surprised; he smiled and handed the wand back to Ian, "Do not betray its loyalty, nor the kindness inherent in the unicorn wand core."
A truly sharp eye.
Dumbledore had always been highly skilled in alchemy. How could someone who befriends Nicolas Flamel not be a master in the field of alchemy?
Some say Dumbledore weakened as he aged, but in reality, the increase in age doesn't affect a wizard's strength; rather, the accumulation of knowledge makes them even more invincible.
The reason people see Dumbledore as "weaker" never lies in his age.
Just his ever-steady heart.
"Heed your teachings."
Ian humbly accepted his wand.
This is a truly good friend!
"Can I prove my innocence by other means?" Ian glanced at the other professors, finally raising his head to look at Dumbledore standing in front of him.
"This was insignificant verification, which doesn't affect our judgment of your innocence." Dumbledore nodded; the other professors did not object either.
The prefects of several grades were somewhat bewildered.
Including the two prefects of Ravenclaw, who were also staring at Ian's wand hanging on his waist, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Can a wand refuse the Flashback Spell?
Why doesn't my wand work!
"Since the Headmaster says Ian didn't commit murder, can we take Ian away? Such a scene is surely a nightmare that will leave a psychological shadow for a young child."
Senior Sister Penelope was as caring as a mother.
She probably hadn't realized Ian's face was far rosier than hers.
"Mr. Prince will stay, the prefects may leave. Please keep today's events confidential and avoid causing unnecessary trouble for relevant personnel." Dumbledore's reminder evidently had no binding force, yet the prefects present all nodded in agreement on the surface.
Ian dared to bet twenty Golden Galleons.
No one among these people would be able to keep the secret after returning.
Just as everyone was preparing to leave.
"What are you doing? Aren't you going to flashback the spell he cast? I dare bet! There must be the magic he used while murdering Professor Ronnie Ehrich!"
Marcus Flint found it difficult to accept Dumbledore's decision and began shouting. Even the two prefects beside him trying to pull him out the door were pushed aside.
"Are you questioning Dumbledore's judgment?" Snape said coolly, not indulging this fellow, and he directly pressed Marcus Flint, who had lost control, down onto the ground.
"It's well known, a unicorn tail hair wand core cannot cast dark arts. You're not only questioning Dumbledore but also the truths of the wizarding world."
Managing to say this sentence with a blank face, Snape really did his best.
The fourth-year little wizard was physically strong, but Snape cast a Control Spell on him, making him unable to do anything more than lie sprawled on the floor like a slug, unable to get up.
The two Slytherin prefects couldn't bear the sight of this but dared not say anything, hastening their steps to leave the Owl Shed, followed by other prefects.
"This is definitely the trick of the murderer! It's him! No mistake! I saw it with my own eyes! You can't shelter him! The Ministry of Magic won't let you protectors off the hook!"
"My family is well-connected in the Ministry of Magic, you cannot persecute me! I'm going to sue you! You will all be locked up in Azkaban!"
Marcus Flint's emotions grew increasingly agitated, even irrationally driven. Ian, standing off to the side, also began noticing something amiss.
The professors naturally did as well.
"Flint seems very convinced he saw Mr. Prince committing murder… hmm, persistent." Dumbledore pondered for a moment.
"Severus, please escort this child back, check for traces of the Imperio, and see if someone's tampered with the child's memory."
The task Dumbledore assigned suited Snape's intention perfectly.
"Thump!"
He used his elbow to knock Marcus Flint out cold. Yes, indeed, not using magic but deploying physical means for sleep on the well-connected Marcus Flint.
Marcus Flint instantly rolled his eyes, fainting dead away. He was carried off by Snape, like a giant lizard, toward the Owl Shed door.
Before Snape left.
He threw Ian a warning look.
As if telling Ian to behave.
"Let's assist Pomona in thoroughly checking the castle to see if the murderer is hiding in some area," Professor McGonagall recognized Dumbledore's wish to converse privately with Ian.
Dean Filius Flitwick did the same, as they'd all worked together for many years.
"You need to think carefully when you get back, if you have offended anyone, especially a dark wizard," Dean Flitwick earnestly reminded Ian before leaving.
"I'm an orphan; what dark wizard could I have offended?"
Ian furrowed his brow, contemplating for a long time, truly feeling innocent, "To be honest, before school started, I did meet a suspected dark wizard on Charing Cross Road in London."
Is this a useful piece of information?
It's just that Dumbledore's expression was somewhat strange.
"We'll investigate it."
He nodded somewhat perfunctorily and, after hesitating for a moment, spoke again.
"It's just to satisfy a little curiosity of mine... Mr. Prince, let me see your Fiendfyre." Dumbledore's sudden soft words left Ian momentarily dumbfounded.
Could this twist have been more abrupt?
"Huh?"
He wanted to feign ignorance but realized he couldn't. Since Dumbledore made such a request, he must have already known that Ian had learned the Fiendfyre.
Where did he find out?
Aurora?
Aurora shouldn't know either!
Although "Advanced Dark Arts Unveiled" came from Aurora, and Aurora had recommended studying the Fiendfyre, Ian had never actually cast the spell since learning it.
Legilimency?
It's not like he hasn't learned Occlumency!
With "Thought Perception," he doesn't even need a teacher for this kind of learning; he had already equipped himself with this necessary Hogwarts mod!
Facing Dumbledore's smiling gaze.
Ian was silent for a moment.
He raised his wand.
Spoke the incantation.
A brilliant blue flame rose in the shed, yet untouched the slightest flammable straw.
"Not bad."
Dumbledore, still smiling, softly praised, the half-moon glasses on his face reflecting the room's flickering light, while a faint ripple passed through his deep eyes.
"Headmaster, I..."
Ian wanted to explain that he wasn't an evil little wizard, but unexpectedly, Dumbledore just patted his shoulder and raised his wand to extinguish the Fiendfyre in the room.
"This afternoon's Magic History Class will be a battle, go rest."
Without waiting for Ian to respond, Dumbledore had already started to leave the room, leaving Ian alone with his wand at the unguarded crime scene.
"Huh?"
Ian was full of question marks.
A dead professor.
Does he still need to clean up the body?
Isn't burning the corpse with Fiendfyre rather disrespectful?
"But shattered pieces of a corpse wouldn't dance." As Ian was pondering whether Dumbledore was hinting at him to burn away the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor with Fiendfyre.
"Swish swish~"
The silhouettes of two house-elves appeared before him.
...
Headmaster's Office.
The round room was filled with various whimsical decorations, and the tall tables were dotted with many silver instruments, which spun and puffed out little jets of smoke.
The portraits of former headmasters hung on the walls, many snoring, as if they had a different schedule from people outside.
Some portraits were chatting.
"It's incredible, a Ravenclaw child can be punished with facing the wall in the office?"
"Hehe, do you think Ravenclaws never make mistakes? Look at her uneasy appearance, it's likely she'll be expelled if not sent to Azkaban."
"Back in my day, misbehaving children were directly whipped; no child ever went uncorrected."
"Can't you be a little quieter? You might scare the young students; you've all been dead for so many years, still reminiscing the past. The current headmaster, Dumbledore, never physically punishes students."
"But Severus would."
...
Penelope sat somewhat nervously on the long bench, waiting.
Time seemed to crawl.
She didn't know how she persevered through the noisy torment, but finally, she heard movement at the revolving staircase behind her.
"Headmaster Dumbledore."
Penelope turned to look at the appearing old man, remembering everything she had done today, and couldn't think of any reason for being called to the Headmaster's Office alone.
"Don't be nervous, Miss Kilvate, you haven't done anything wrong, and you won't face any punishment. I merely asked Fox to bring you here to understand some situations."
Dumbledore walked toward his chair.
"Is it related to the professor's death today?"
It was the only possibility Penelope could think of.
"That matter is no longer of your concern, don't overthink, the professors will handle everything properly." Dumbledore assured her gently, looking at the student in front of him.
His gaze flickered.
Yet he endeavored to maintain a gentle smile.
"I just heard from the ghosts in the castle that since yesterday afternoon, you've been relentlessly searching for... things that perhaps should not be sought?"