"Now, Aoba, carefully observe the current constellations, and then answer me..." The Centaur Leader withdrew his gaze and turned to look at his young tribesman.
"There are human sorcerers who want to attempt Ascension to Divinity! Whether successful or not, they dare to touch the taboo of Ascension to Divinity. Do you want to compete with such a group in terms of madness?"
In the quiet forest.
Ancient oaks and evergreen shrubs sway gently in the night breeze, transformed into shadows.
The Centaur Leader's words received no response.
Differing from rumors of their unruly nature, this group of centaurs showed not a hint of bravery, only silence that couldn't hide their fear and worry.
"I only hope that the so-called angel revealed by fate will not be born in this Hogwarts, so that perhaps we can find undisturbed peace amidst future changes."
...
After sending Aurora back to the Slytherin Common Room, Ian silently memorized the password to the Slytherin Common Room door, never knowing when seemingly useless knowledge might be needed.
"See you tomorrow... don't think about eating little elves; if you eat them, who will cook for us? You can't eat friendly creatures, including those round-faced fat chickens of Hogwarts."
He didn't know if Aurora had listened to his repeated reminders.
On the way back, Ian rummaged through his bulging robe, finding three eggs stuffed by Aurora, each with a shell bearing bluish-green patterns.
In the night-time corridor.
These round eggs, not much bigger than chicken eggs, emitted a faint green glow, shallow and deep like breathing, filled with a sense of life ready to burst forth.
Perhaps these eggs were snacks stolen by the Curled Wing Demon from elsewhere or offspring laid by the demon itself; Ian felt the latter possibility should be slightly higher.
After all, if the Curled Wing Demon lost its owner, even if it gained freedom, it shouldn't be so crazy as to attack Aurora unless it had never been with its owner around Aurora.
"It's more likely protecting its own eggs, but they're glowing; maybe they're radioactive." Ian sniffed the suspected Curled Wing Demon's egg.
A very very special smell; Ian wagered with his years of culinary experience that this smell would likely pair well with tomatoes and a bit of minced garlic.
"And some chopped green onions..."
Ian swallowed, probably influenced by Aurora.
If he didn't know how expensive Fantastic Beasts' eggs were, he might have detoured to the kitchen again; a thin wallet blocked Ian's thoughts of compiling the "Fantastic Beasts in the Pot" series. He returned safely to his dorm, still playing with the three special eggs.
Would selling them after hatching be worth more?
Or could he also raise them himself, allowing their offspring to flourish endlessly?
"These are prohibited items restricted by the Ministry of Magic, probably only secretly sold in Diagon Alley. Maybe tomorrow night I can take them to the Misty Illusion Realm for breeding."
"According to the time flow in the Misty Illusion Realm... I really might have a chance to become a Master of Fantastic Beasts Breeding." Ian found a place for the three Curled Wing Demon eggs.
He carefully placed the eggs into his suitcase, adding some small concealment magic before relaxing in his roommate's snoring to start washing up.
Before sleeping, Ian noticed that Snape and Dumbledore were still not far apart; perhaps they really had a close personal relationship, already playing hide and seek in the castle outside the office.
"The mental resilience of middle-aged and elderly people is better than mine."
Yawning sleepily.
After a simple wash, Ian quickly fell into a deep sleep—having long learned how to control dreams, he had the advantage of deciding his adventures freely in dreams compared to other little wizards.
"Damn it! We came to rescue the princess! How did you end up putting the princess in the pot too!!"
Morning at Hogwarts.
As the first ray of sunlight tentatively entered the ancient castle, the world seemed to wake up in this gentle and mysterious light. The sky gradually dyed from deep blue to elegant lavender, then to brilliant golden yellow, like nature's palette accidentally spilling out vibrant colors over the world.
"Good morning."
"Today there's Defense Against the Dark Arts class!"
"The new teacher is the infamous Lockhart! My mom and dad both got divorced because of him!" Students began to slowly walk out of their dormitories.
Little wizards' laughter, conversations, and roughhousing, along with the sound of couples kissing, intertwined. Some might still rub their sleepy eyes, while others were already energetic, ready to embrace a new day of learning and challenges—this is the inherent difference between diligent students and slackers.
"Slap!"
"Slap!"
Last night, Ian was probably among the last to sleep, though due to the slight psychological shadow Aurora brought him, his dream, which could be freely controlled, manifested an unpredictable deviation.
This caused Ian to awaken early, but it wasn't all bad; after all, in Ian's dormitory, the earliest riser could enjoy the pleasure of giving two wake-up slaps.
When Ian woke his roommate and exited the Common Room, he saw someone outside enjoying similar fun. He watched as a girl slapped a boy across the face.