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Even Ian's enchanted gas masks won her over.
And once word spread that even Madam Pomfrey had bought one, students who had heard rumours of a "truth-plague" began swarming Ian like Nifflers to galleons.
His products were sold out.
Every last enchanted gas mask was sold out.
Even the perpetually penniless Miss Daphne Greengrass, who prized her life far more than her gold, pestered Ian until he relented and sold her one at a generous 20% discount.
She'd sacrificed her own final exam scores and the meagre earnings she made by impersonating classmates with Polyjuice Potion… all of it flowed straight into Ian's coffers.
The guilt was brief but noticeable. Ian mused to himself that he was like a magical Bruce Wayne, clearly, no galleon in Hogwarts could escape his reach.
"Hogwarts has its own Batman," He whispered once, mostly to justify himself.
The feast hadn't even started yet.
The Great Hall had been completely transformed, decked out in Ravenclaw's blue and bronze. House-elves had spared no effort, from enchanted banners fluttering high in the rafters to golden goblets bearing the Ravenclaw crest, every detail had been seen to.
Whether it was because the house-elves admired Ian or simply because he'd once mentioned it while enjoying a fondue in the kitchens, no one could say.
Traditionally, the decorations didn't change until after the House Cup was announced, so this early transformation left many of the Slytherin students fuming silently.
"It's just the House Cup," They muttered to themselves, trying to maintain composure.
"Looks like everyone's here."
Inside the bustling Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore, unusually dressed in rich crimson robes, observed the room. Once he saw that all students and professors had taken their seats, he stood and raised his hand ever so slightly.
The effect was immediate.
Silence descended over the hall like a blanket, soft and complete.
All eyes turned to the venerable headmaster, save for one pair.
Grindelwald, clearly displeased at having his exam privileges revoked, puckered his lips sourly and took a slow sip from his goblet. Dumbledore either didn't notice or chose to ignore him. With a serene smile, he began his traditional closing remarks.
"I imagine everyone's rather hungry after a week of stressful exams. Before we dig in, please endure this old man's usual pre-feast ramblings."
A ripple of laughter passed through the room.
"Those who know me," Dumbledore continued, "know I'm not especially fond of long speeches. However, Professor McGonagall reminded me that if I don't say something now, you might forget I'm still your headmaster."
That got a proper chuckle, even a few snorts from the Ravenclaw table.
Once the laughter subsided,
Dumbledore's voice softened. "This has been an extraordinary year for both you and me."
"You've all learned more than in any prior year; your young minds are now brimming with knowledge. May your summer break offer you peace and time to digest all that you've gained."
"Next term will bring even more discoveries. For now, take joy in the holidays. These are the memories that will shine when you're older, particularly when you reach Professor Lockhart's age and your time is consumed by publishing memoirs or... other misadventures."
Even Professor Lockhart, preening in his seat, gave a smug grin, apparently taking it as praise.
And so, with laughter, warmth, and magic in the air, Dumbledore transitioned into the annual tally and final announcements.
"I daresay most of you already have an inkling about this year's House Cup results but tradition must be upheld… Let's take a look at the final tallies, shall we?"
"Gryffindor, as expected, remains comfortably in fourth place. I do hope you'll strive harder next year and, ideally, make fewer... colourful decisions. Let's see if you can push that 360 score a bit higher."
Albus Dumbledore's voice carried a light humour, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His fondness for Gryffindor was no secret, so he offered them a few extra words of encouragement, though he was under no illusion that the lion-hearted House would abandon its habit of blunders any time soon.
Notably, the Headmaster didn't even suggest they could climb the ranks—only that they should improve their score. A subtle nod to how well he understood Gryffindor's unruly charm.
Professor McGonagall exhaled deeply.
She glanced around, hoping to lock eyes with her House's usual troublemakers but with the twin terrors absent, she found no one to glare at. Resigned, she took a long sip of redcurrant wine.
"In third place: Hufflepuff, with 511 points, a strong showing, and a full 130 points higher than last year. Your diligence does not go unnoticed."
"And in second… Slytherin. A shame about losing the Quidditch Cup, but 730 points is no small feat. It speaks volumes about your cunning and determination."
Dumbledore paused slightly, and his gaze flicked to Professor Snape, who nodded ever so slightly in return. Both knew how… generously adjusted those Slytherin point totals had been.
Gulp~
Snape took a deliberate sip from his goblet to conceal the awkward tension. Though he and Aurora often clashed, even he had to admit she was the finest Slytherin student in years.
He had seized every opportunity to award House points in her name. Unfortunately, even with a sizable lead, Slytherin still failed to claim the crown. Snape narrowed his eyes at his nephew, unsure how they'd lost, but he was certain that Ian was somehow involved.
"And finally, we extend our congratulations to Ravenclaw House, after several years, they've reclaimed the House Cup! I imagine this will make for a splendid farewell gift to this year's graduating eagles." Dumbledore's tone softened as he brought his summary to a close.
He tactfully avoided reading out Ravenclaw's exact score, after all, announcing a staggering 4,680 points more than the runner-up might come across as... excessive.
"We won! We actually won!"
"Ravenclaw reigns supreme!"
"Blimey, we've got more points than the other three Houses combined! That's got to be a record!"
"No, it's Ian! Our little professor's the real miracle!"
…
No matter how peculiar the number looked, the Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers. Over at Slytherin, feet stomped in unison, though none dared accuse anyone of foul play aloud.
They were a shrewd lot, versed in subtlety. Even if they did suspect that half the staff had bent the rules to let that half-blood Ravenclaw accumulate points like a goblin hoards gold, they didn't voice their complaints. Instead, they sent scathing, silent glares toward the staff table.
Hoot hoot, gulp~
Hoot hoot, gulp~
Several professors, visibly uncomfortable but powerless to object, raised their goblets in silent surrender. They knew precisely what had happened, but how could they possibly explain it to the students?
"Just seven more years. Seven."
More than one professor repeated the thought like a calming spell. Dumbledore's lighthearted indulgence clearly meant that appealing to the headmaster's office was a lost cause.
"Of course, we still have some traditions to follow. As always, there are a few additional points to award. Let's see…"
Dumbledore peered down at a long roll of parchment, unrolling it with a flourish.
"To begin with, for Gryffindor House…"
This was the customary end-of-year recognition, bonus points awarded to students who had achieved something of note during the term. It wasn't always grand heroics, even something as small as stopping a fellow student from choking on a sweet could earn a commendation.
This system was markedly different from what Ian was used to before coming to Hogwarts.
(To Be Continued…)