The Wizarding World is bound for great changes because of this, and with turbulence comes danger. Ian is not someone who fears trouble, and he also has his own assessment of the level of trouble. This kind of potion that can give Squibs hope is far less astounding than the potential contained in the Infinite Vitality Potion.
It's just that the benefits are too great.
It might arouse the covetousness of Pure-blood Clans around the world.
Snape definitely wouldn't be able to handle it.
However, Ian felt that he could.
His strength was already quite good.
Moreover, he didn't intend to hog it all for himself.
The Little Wizard planned to bring Aurora and Ariana into the fold, with his living companions splitting the big profits with him, and the companions in the Misty Illusion Realm certainly wouldn't refuse to build a few chocolate factories in the realm.
By then, bearing the names of Grindelwald and the Dumbledore family, the covetousness caused by the immense profit would inevitably lessen a lot, and the remaining troubles from scattered individuals Ian was sure he could handle.
"Prince's Magic Recovery Potion to be renowned in Wizard families worldwide!"
Ian was quite proud when naming the potion, though it derived from Teacher Morgan's homework, yet who else understood rounding up better than him?
Teacher Morgan had long passed away, and as Morgan's student, of course, he had the inheritance rights to his teacher's achievements, and with a bit of rounding, he could also enjoy the naming rights of the potion.
"Of course, I still need a bit of face," Ian said as he pulled out a piece of paper and quickly sketched Morgan, then pasted it onto the reagent like a brand label.
And so.
The later misunderstood package design was roughly birthed in the Room of Requirement like this, perhaps even Ian himself hadn't yet realized where his decision would lead the future.
The foundation of the Divine Throne.
Silently, it had already surfaced.
...
There was only one Squib in all of Hogwarts. Naturally, Ian thought of that dog-annoyed caretaker first when searching for a test subject.
"Filch is indeed still in the infirmary, and Madam Pince has already left... when people get old, their combat ability really seems to fail," Ian confirmed Filch's location on the Living Map.
It was not difficult for him to sneak into the infirmary; after all, his Illusionary Body Spell was already very proficient, allowing him to completely avoid Madam Pomfrey's sharp eyes.
The number of wizards at Hogwarts who could see through Ian's Illusionary Body Spell was very few, and Madam Pomfrey was evidently not among them. Though a competent wizard, she was merely competent.
"This is just the first version of the trial; it's not too cheap for this guy, after all, the effect won't last long." Ian secretly slipped into Filch's sleeping room.
Burdened with injuries yet still needing to hand over the public provisions to Madam Pince, Filch slept soundly.
"Even being my test subject requires a fee!" Ian scoffed at the small change in Filch's pockets, knowing the Hogwarts caretaker's salary wasn't much monthly.
After dripping a few drops of potion into Filch's mouth, he smacked Filch's swollen face, maintaining invisibility and hiding in the corner.
"Damn it! Who! What little rascal dares to prank me! Are you tired of living?!" Filch awoke from his dream with a stormy roar, only to realize he was in the infirmary.
"Could it have been a nightmare... tonight's dream was really chaotic... damn it, even if it's a nightmare, I'll lay the blame on those little rascals!"
"When I'm healed, I'll grab a few unlucky ones and punish them hard!" Filch muttered through gritted teeth, simultaneously touching his swollen face, unsure what kind of pain it was.
"Hiss~"
The immediate pain caused Filch to suck in a cold breath. His heart suddenly clenched, and in the next moment, a nearby kettle exploded under his intense emotional wave.
"Boom!"
The noise from the kettle exploding startled Filch.
"What's going on... no... I... I felt it... is this magic power!?" Filch exclaimed, his face full of disbelief.
Forgetting his need for bed rest, upon realizing some change in his body, feeling what he'd never felt his whole life.
"Clack clack clack!"
Filch immediately rolled out of bed, stumbled out of the infirmary—naturally, invisible Ian followed along, accompanying Filch back to his cluttered room.
"By Merlin! The heavens finally heard my prayers!" Filch's face was full of shock and ecstasy as he climbed under his own bed where he slept.
The floorboards were pried open.
Filch retrieved an old Magic Wand from inside—though a Squib could not cast spells, each held an eternal wish in their heart to possess magic. This was probably something Filch prepared for himself in his younger years, as many Squibs secretly prepare a Magic Wand for themselves.
They have seen magic.
Yet cannot touch magic.
Only those who have experienced this pain can understand.
It's cruel and despairing.
It's as cruel as having a long-cherished "white moonlight" in one's heart, only to find it asking for five hundred per night, while one cannot even afford that.
"Incendio!"