Hogwarts’ White Lord

50: Not To Be Messed With



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Ivan was not without a solution.

But he had no reason, nor the inclination, to help Ron improve his attributes.

Yes, improve attributes.

During his time at Hogwarts, Ivan had discovered a way to enhance one's attributes—magical transformation - Rituals.

Magical transformation was an extremely advanced subject, encompassing knowledge of potions, spells, transfiguration, and even dark magic. It was an important method for ordinary wizards to ascend to the ranks of top-tier wizards.

However, magical transformation was extremely risky, with a survival rate of only one in ten—essentially a gamble with one's life.

Looking around Hogwarts, Ivan knew that even professors like McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout had never attempted magical transformation, and they remained ordinary wizards.

For most wizards, becoming a master of magic was the highest level they could hope to achieve.

Ivan, who had read the original books and seen the films, understood very well that the gap between magic masters and true great wizards was a chasm the former could scarcely comprehend.

'No wonder reaching 5 points in an attribute is considered legendary,' Ivan thought to himself.

He possessed the magic eye and spiritual vision, which, combined with his ability to see magic on a deeper level, gave him an unparalleled advantage when it came to understanding magical transformation.

Unfortunately, despite his research, Ivan had yet to find any books on magical transformation in the library. He suspected that the relevant materials were likely hidden away in the Restricted Section.

'I won't be able to rely on myself for everything in the future,' Ivan reflected.

At the moment, the only people he could truly trust were Hermione and Yuumi.

This cat and person were his confidants.

Though the little witch was talented, Ivan could already see the limits of her future potential.

At best, she would reach the level of Professor McGonagall and become a master of spells.

'But with me guiding her, she should be able to go further beyond that,' Ivan thought confidently.

His plan was to study diligently at Hogwarts for a few years.

Once he accumulated enough knowledge, he would begin conducting experiments—starting with small animals, and eventually Yuumi.

Unless the magical transformation was successfully completed on Yuumi, Ivan wouldn't dream of risking Hermione's life.

Yuumi: Thanks a lot my Human! (Sarcastically, of course.)

"Alright, children, today's class is over," Professor McGonagall announced, signaling the end of the lesson. The young wizards put down their wands one by one.

Ivan glanced around and realized that, aside from him and Hermione, no one had fully succeeded in their first Transfiguration lesson.

At best, a few like Harry had managed to transform one end of the match into a needle.

But the majority, including Ronald, Neville, and Seamus, hadn't managed any transformation at all.

Next up was the class all the young wizards eagerly anticipated—Defense Against the Dark Arts.

However, Ivan didn't have high hopes for it.

Sure enough, in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Quirrell's performance was almost laughable.

The classroom where he taught was filled with the overwhelming smell of garlic. Everyone said that this was to ward off a vampire Quirrell claimed to have encountered in Romania—he feared the vampire might return to capture him.

Quirrell also boasted about his scarf, saying it was a gift from an African prince, who had supposedly rewarded him for helping banish resurrected zombies.

But whether anyone actually believed him was another story altogether.

During the class, Seamus Finnigan had the nerve to ask how Professor Quirrell defeated the resurrected zombies.

Quirrell's face turned beet red, and he stammered, mumbling something about the weather, clearly trying to dodge the question.

'This guy acts like a complete fool,' Ivan thought to himself, watching the scene unfold.

He suspected that Quirrell actually believed his poor acting skills were enough to deceive everyone at Hogwarts, including Dumbledore.

But to Ivan, Quirrell's performance practically screamed, "I have a problem!"

'Voldemort must have lost some of his cunning by splitting his soul like that, and now he's relying on someone like this to host him,' Ivan mused, shaking his head. Still, given Voldemort's desperate state in the forests of Albania, perhaps he couldn't afford to be picky.

After class, Hermione and Neville flanked Ivan on either side, walking with him down the corridor.

Hermione, usually a respectful student, was visibly frustrated.

"Ivan," she said with a frown. "Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts class is such a letdown."

It wasn't like Hermione to speak ill of her teachers, but even she couldn't help it this time. Quirrell's pitiful display was far below her expectations.

"Nothing unusual, Headmaster always invites this type of guys.. No sane person will accept this post after all." Ivan said calmly. "I heard that the Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts is cursed. The professor for this course can never teach for more than a year."

"Is that true?" Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, and Neville looked frightened, as if something terrible might happen in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Don't worry," Ivan reassured them. "The curse doesn't affect students, only the professors."

"That's still scary," Hermione said, already beginning to wonder if she should comfort Professor Quirrell. After all, he was risking himself to teach them—despite his poor teaching skills.

"Relax," Ivan continued. "If Hogwarts dares to hire him and Professor Quirrell dared to apply, there shouldn't be any real danger. Professors at Hogwarts aren't forced to stay; if it gets too much, they can resign. Dumbledore wouldn't let anything bad happen to them."

As they walked and talked, it was mostly Ivan and Hermione carrying the conversation, with Neville quietly listening alongside them.

"Oh, by the way," Ivan said, remembering something important. "Let's be cautious in tomorrow's Potions class. Keep a low profile."

"What?" Hermione and Neville exchanged confused looks, unsure of what Ivan meant.

"You'll understand tomorrow," Ivan replied, not elaborating further. He then led the two to the library, where they planned to borrow some books and take them back to the dormitory to read later.

The Potions class was held in a basement classroom. It was much colder there than in the main part of the castle above.

Glass jars lined the walls, filled with animal specimens floating in murky liquid, making the place feel even more unsettling.

When Ivan, Hermione, and Neville arrived, several students were already seated in the classroom. Most of them were from Slytherin.

For first-year students, Potions was a shared class between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and this would be Ivan's first formal encounter with the Slytherin students.

Malfoy, along with his usual companions, Goyle and Crabbe, sat together.

A short girl, Pansy Parkinson, was seated near them. Ivan remembered her name from the introductions.

"Look who it is!"

Malfoy sneered as soon as he spotted Ivan.

In a mocking tone, he added, "The famous Ivan Ambrosius. Everyone's saying you're the most outstanding first-year wizard."

"!!"

Ivan raised an eyebrow, stopping Hermione from responding before she could speak. He calmly replied, "Oh, what was your name.. Ah! Malfoy, I remember meeting you in the train. Alas, I don't really understand your logic."

"That.. let's not talk about that meeting."

"Yeah, it wasn't a pleasant one after all." Ivan chuckled.

Their brief exchange quickly attracted the attention of the other students in the room, but no one seemed eager to get involved.

Malfoy, with his pure-blood background and aristocratic family status, commanded a certain level of attention among the first years, especially in Slytherin.

Ivan was even more extraordinary.

He was born in the Muggle world, but in just a few days, the magic talent that Ivan showed in class was enough to make all the young Gryffindors look up to him.

In a word, the two were not people they could mess with.

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