"Isn't that our Mr. Savior?"
"Why does he look like he's been beaten to death? Did he encounter an attack?"
"Hiss! Don't you understand yet! Look at who is carrying Harry Potter, it's the new generation Black Demon King declaring his authority and invincibility..."
...
Of course, discussions among the students were inevitable.
However.
For so comnts Ian didn't want to hear, he directly cast a "Langlock" spell on those rumor mongers, temporarily depriving them of their ability to speak.
"I'm just being helpful! Saving my classmates!" He defended himself, and so chose to believe him, though others, nodding furiously, were visibly motivated by a strong will to survive.
"..."
Ian didn't bother with this group of drama queens.
He directly brought Harry Potter to the school's infirmary.
"Good heavens! By rlin! What terrible thing has happened?"
When Ian magically carried the unconscious Harry into the infirmary, the twelve curtains around the beds fluttered without wind, and Madam Pomfrey, who was brewing a potion, paused her wand's movents upon seeing who it was.
"I'm not quite sure either."
Ian shrugged and handed Harry Potter over to Madam Pomfrey.
"It seems to be due to excessive ntal exhaustion."
He made his diagnosis—Madam Pomfrey, checking Harry Potter's condition, nodded in agreent with Ian's assessnt.
The little wizard imdiately provided a treatnt plan upon seeing this.
"A ntal Stability Potion might help, though I think he might be more suited for a Soul Stabilizing Potion." He had already reached a clear understanding of Harry Potter's situation in his mind.
"You're not wrong, but..." Madam Pomfrey placed Harry Potter on a bed, feeding him a potion while looking up at the little wizard.
"What he needs more is the danger-free Three-no Magic Potion." Madam Pomfrey gave Ian a very peculiar look, filled with both admiration and an inexplicable irritation. "Mr. Prince, could you explain why Mr. Potter's magic power fluctuations are so dead silent as if kissed by Satan?"
Clearly.
Madam Pomfrey noticed that Harry Potter had consud so magic-suppressing potion.
"It was to save him. He seed about to explode at the ti." Ian shrugged helplessly, feeling it wasn't appropriate to discuss Voldemort with Madam Pomfrey.
"Magic out of control?"
Luckily, with her brows furrowed, Madam Pomfrey ca up with a reasonable excuse herself.
"Maybe?"
Ian offered an ambiguous response.
Madam Pomfrey didn't mind and started to clean Harry Potter's wounds. "Poor child, he was in so much pain that he tore his own face apart."
"Can you tell
where you found Mr. Potter and what accident he encountered?" She believed there had to be a reason for Harry Potter's unusual condition.
"Perhaps he encountered sothing unclean while wandering at night." Ian's eyes narrowed slightly, vague with his words, "You know, the castle always harbors dangerous secrets."
After saying this.
He looked up again to check the ti.
"I have to go to class now, I'll leave Harry with you." Ian didn't wait for Madam Pomfrey to respond and ran out of the infirmary. As the infirmary door closed behind him, the flickering torch on the stone wall in the corridor cast Ian's shadow into a twisted giant. Two lower-year students, clutching their "Magic Potions and Elixirs" textbook, ran past hurriedly.
Their whispers were exceptionally clear under the arches.
"Potter is definitely dead because of him!"
"He's establishing authority! Trying to tell us there's no Savior in this world!"
"Dumbledore won't punish him; he might even help him cover the truth up—he has a Phoenix after all!"
...
These two students obviously didn't see Ian not far to the side.
They continued walking with their heads down.
What they said made Ian turn to look at them several tis — and it was at this mont that a trembling new Slytherin student, looking like a startled Niffler, bumped into his arms.
"I'm sorry! Senior Prince!"
The new student backed away and knocked over the spear held by the armor, the clatter of tal echoing in the empty corridor. Yet, he couldn't care less about the ss behind him, looking at Ian in terror.
"I didn't an it! Please! Don't kill !"
Clearly.
This Slytherin freshman was scared out of their wits. Their reaction was not without reason, having entered the academy that feared Ian the most, and with the rumor of Ian killing the Savior continuously gaining new versions.
"Just watch where you're going next ti. Do I look that frightening?" Ian reached out to straighten the boy's crooked tie, brushing his fingertips over the erald-encrusted tie clip.
The freshman was trembling all over, his legs turning to jelly.
"..."
Ian sighed and signaled with a raised hand for the underclassman to leave quickly — consequently, the little kid who bumped into Ian imdiately sprinted off into the distance.
"What do I do! What do I do! I think I offended that Prince!" He cried, grabbing his roommate at the classroom entrance, still in tears.
"Huh? Then you're dood!"
His roommate gave an answer he didn't want to hear.
"No!"
The little wizard let out a desperate cry.
And just at that mont.
"You look like you're very scared?"
The voice of Miss Beaver rang out.
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