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Ian had encountered talking tomes in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. His curiosity had led him to study them, which was undoubtedly one of the key reasons for the absurd scene unfolding before him.
"I become more adept at alchemy when I'm under the influence!?" Ian struggled to piece together the events of the previous night, but all he could recall was dancing and dueling with ghosts at their banquet.
Children really shouldn't indulge in firewhisky.
He had no idea when he had returned to the Room of Requirement or how he had spent the entire night tinkering with the pile of books before him. Even the Dementor had been dressed up and adorned with festive decorations.
The sensation of a hangover was most unpleasant.
Especially for Ian, whose body had not yet fully matured.
He shook his throbbing head, and scattered fragments of memory seemed to rattle loose, but he only remembered sorting the bones of the Riddle family.
"One of you must be old Tom." Ian gazed at the collection of Muggle skeletons that had been meticulously arranged. They were stacked in a corner, having escaped disaster due to their lack of bloodline magic. As for those bones imbued with magical lineage, they had all transformed into the floating skeletal tomes hovering in the air.
None had been spared.
"My body feels like it's about to burst!"
"Can't you make me a bit larger?"
"You've even distorted the face on my cover; quickly take my face down and fix it!"
"Oh, heavens, what a dull creator! He made us just to converse with silly snakes. I truly despise the content and mission I carry!"
...
A chorus of floating skeletal tomes chattered incessantly.
Their covers were crafted from finely selected human bones, and these once-scattered remains had been rearranged to form lifelike yet distinct skeletal visages.
There were both male and female.
They appeared sinister yet possessed an artistic flair. Ian felt that his creative impulses after a night of revelry were quite abundant. He reached out and seized one of the 'Books of Parselmouth', flipping it open.
Sure enough.
Just as when he had been interrupted by the ghosts the day before, the book contained no text, only a series of ancient runes outlined in lines that flickered in and out of visibility.
"Sssss~"
The opened 'Book of Parselmouth' ceased its complaints, and the skeletal face on the cover began to whisper in a pedagogical tone. Ian felt as if he could hear the hissing of snakes in his ears.
Accompanied by translation.
However, before the whispered translation could commence, Ian realized he had already anticipated the meaning of Parseltongue a step ahead. Although there were still some inaccuracies, overall, he was about 80-90% correct.
At that moment, Ian noticed that his frenzied alchemical crafting from the night before had brought his alchemical skills to the brink of a breakthrough. It seemed that during the process of creating the 'Book of Parselmouth', he had gained a preliminary understanding of Parseltongue.
He hadn't acquired a specific skill, but his existing abilities had made significant strides.
[Language Mastery (Level 7): 5/6400]
He had advanced from level 6 to level 7, reaching a capability on par with 'The Path of Flames'. If he fully mastered Parseltongue, he should expect a considerable enhancement.
"Sssss~"
Ian attempted to interact with the 'Book of Parselmouth' using Parseltongue.
"Sssssssss~"
The skeletal face on the cover of the 'Book of Parselmouth' immediately responded. This was why the 'Books of Parselmouth' seemed to have high "intelligence" and could even make sarcastic remarks.
Ian's creative philosophy was to provide learners with a good language communication environment.
He believed that the rigid learning and memorization of words and language structures would only leave learners able to understand Parseltongue but unable to communicate effectively. Having communication from the start of learning was the best way to learn and undoubtedly the fastest way to learn a language.
"You are all amazing!" Ian gave the 'Book of Parselmouth' a perfect score for its user experience. He immediately took out his carving knife and wrote a sentence in the 'Book of Parselmouth'.
[They will speak to you; this is the masterpiece of Ian Prince.]
Following the 'Bone and Ash Box or Housewitch's Handy Box', Ian created another original work. Although the raw materials for the work were somewhat grim, the 'Book of Parselmouth' was clearly more meaningful than the 'Housewitch's Handy Box'.
If the Gaunt houses had no objections in the underworld, it might truly be called an outstanding work.
After all.
Aside from bloodline inheritance, even Dumbledore found it difficult to master Parseltongue through study. Dumbledore, aside from being a magical genius, was also a linguistic genius.
Even such a master could only memorize a few syllables through rote learning, making it even less likely for other mediocre wizards to master Parseltongue.
"Unfortunately, I can't sell you in school, at least not until I catch the precious basilisk... The little wizards in school probably wouldn't pay too high a price anyway." Ian was busy "catching" the 'Books of Parselmouth' that were fleeing in the air, stuffing dozens of them into his money pouch.
After several expansions, Ian's money pouch had now grown to the size of a football field, and most of his belongings were now in a portable state.
Of course.
A football field-sized space was not the limit of the expansion charm; it was merely the current limit of Ian's control over the charm. In the future, he would definitely continue to expand the space in his pouch.
Whether he would use it or not was secondary.
What Ian wanted was simply his own Doraemon's fourth-dimensional pocket.
"You all get in here too."
After a moment's thought, Ian ultimately decided not to destroy the pile of Muggle skeletons. Compared to incinerating them all with Fiendfyre, he preferred to boil old Tom's bones into potion.
In potions, human bone powder was also a material, and it was something very difficult to obtain through regular means. Voldemort's father's bones were hidden among a group of legitimate Muggle skeletons.
Ian felt that it would be a waste to destroy them all to eliminate future troubles—he had dug up the entire village's graves because he couldn't find which one was old Tom in a hurry.
"Future troubles or not, it's a small matter. If I need to save Horcrux Harry Potter, I must use old Tom's bones. Snape will definitely be willing to acknowledge that I am his most talented student for the sake of the Boy Who Lived and write a guarantee that I must give Ravenclaw at least a hundred points this semester."
In the end, Ian also wanted to stuff the bound Dementor into his money pouch, but he still hadn't found a way to improve the pouch's tightness. The Dementor, comparable in size to Hagrid, got its head stuck at the entrance of the pouch. Helpless, Ian had to pull the Dementor out again.
"Why can't you have a balloon head!" Ian locked the Dementor back in its cage, where it curled up in the corner, looking as if it were sobbing.
This was a sight that other wizards had never witnessed before. After tidying up the somewhat chaotic Room of Requirement, Ian noticed it was already two or three o'clock in the afternoon.
Fortunately, today was Halloween, and Hogwarts would be closed for the entire day; otherwise, he would have undoubtedly achieved the remarkable feat of skipping class all day.
"Time to eat! I want to go eat!" Just as Ian was about to leave, the portrait in the Room of Requirement that he often frequented suddenly spoke up.
"If Salazar were still alive, he would definitely have a word with you."
They had never conversed before; this was the first time, startling Ian, who quickly turned to look. It was a striking young man with red hair he had never seen before. This figure had never appeared in any of Hogwarts' portraits, nor had it been in this classroom before.
Ian had often bothered the portraits in the castle to understand the principles of "magical intelligence."
"Are you an ancestor of the Weasley family? To be honest, I initially just wanted to study the bloodline origins of Parseltongue through those bones, but I accidentally turned them all into skeleton books last night."
Ian stared at the young man's somewhat tousled red hair.
(To Be Continued…)