20: The Professor's Weakness! Gotcha!

Ian truly disliked dealing with riddlers. He only enjoyed being the riddler himself. Fortunately, although the mysterious witch had absorbed some of the bad habits of wizards, her fondness for riddles was not too severe. Upon seeing Ian’s bewildered, wide-eyed expression, she graciously offered a detailed explanation.

“You and that little girl have often been discussing a certain black wizard named Tom by the riverside meadow over the years, talking about how dangerous it is to attend that school called Hogwarts... Perhaps next time, you should lower your voices a bit,” the mysterious witch said, clearly accustomed to Ian’s “simple-mindedness.”

This answer was something Ian had not anticipated, yet it made perfect sense. Observation? More like eavesdropping! Ian silently grumbled to himself but forced out an awkward smile. “I never expected you to have been quietly assessing me for such a long time.”

What else could he say? Naturally, he quoted a classic Q&A from the “Civil Servant’s Path to Promotion,” which he had learned before crossing over but never had the chance to use—only to find it unexpectedly applicable in this peculiar situation.

“Assessment, yes... assessment,” the mysterious witch said, her eyes narrowing into crescent moons. She looked less innocent and more cunning, like a fox. “We have spoken for quite some time, and I have answered many of your foolish questions, yet I do not believe I have ever heard you call me ‘teacher’.”

Her tone remained lazily gentle, but beneath that calm voice lurked a subtle sharpness.

“That’s because you haven’t yet told me your honorable name,” Ian replied with a start, bowing slightly to prove he was not truly “foolish.”

“You may call me Teacher Mara.”

The witch Mara’s lips curved into a faint smile, enigmatic as a flower blooming in a rainforest—beautiful yet thorny.

“Teacher Mara,” Ian repeated obediently.

However, at the same time, a question arose in his mind—he had never heard of any famous witch by that name in the widely known Harry Potter stories.

Was it a pseudonym? Or was her real name lost to the sands of time? It seemed she was not an overwhelmingly powerful sorceress; after all, the great founders of Hogwarts and Merlin himself were names that never faded with time.

Of course, Teacher Mara might hail from a much older era, or perhaps this was not her original name but one she chose anew as memories faded.

With that thought, Ian recalled some of her earlier words, stirring his curiosity and prompting him to ask cautiously, “Teacher Mara, you said you no longer possess the power and magic you had in life?”

His tentative tone invited a gaze from the witch that immediately conveyed pressure.

“Do you doubt that I can teach you anything?” she asked with a smile.

“Not at all. I’m just curious about those escaped utensils. Weren’t they enchanted?” Ian glanced around to avoid her eyes.

“The mortal world may have taken away my magic, stripped my power and lineage, but...” The witch leaned back on the bench and pointed to her head with a slender finger. “Knowledge will never betray its owner. My apprentice, remember: knowledge is our most precious treasure. It accompanies us on every journey.”

“Until... the very end.”

For the first time, the witch spoke to Ian with a serious tone, delivering a meaningful lesson.

“The very end?”

Ian looked at her.

“For me, for all the souls here, it represents the unknown ahead,” she replied with a smile, her voice tinged with a certain hopeful anticipation.

Every soul lingering in this dreamlike realm still clings to some obsession. Honestly, Ian was very curious about what kind of fixation held this hopeful Teacher Mara here. Yet, wary of touching upon some spiritual wound, he dared not ask why she remained in such a liminal state.

“Teacher Mara, so what knowledge can I learn?” Now that he had addressed her as teacher, Ian was eager to soak up everything.

“Magic or potions— which would you like to start with?” Mara’s confidence in her own abilities shone through her words and demeanor.

“You can brew potions too?” Ian was surprised. He wondered who was stronger in that field—Teacher Mara or Professor Snape, who lived many years later.

“Of course.” Mara nodded ambiguously, then abruptly changed the subject. “But potion-making is a demanding discipline. Few truly grasp the exquisite wonder when a cauldron simmers gently, releasing pure fragrant steam. Even fewer can feel the potent magic flowing through the liquid into people’s veins.”

Her drawn-out voice seemed to echo ancient legends.

Yet, no matter how he listened, Ian found it strangely familiar.

“Um, are you about to tell me that as long as I’m not a fool, you can teach me how to gain renown, brew glory, and even defy death?”

Could it be any less familiar? That was Snape’s opening speech to new students every year!

“Do all potion masters share the same script?”

“Hmph.”

Teacher Mara was momentarily taken aback, then let out a soft laugh. “It seems I still bear traces of my existence in the mortal world.”

What did she mean?

Ian’s mind raced and he quickly understood her implication—Snape was a plagiarist!

“Did you ever write such words?”

Ian’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. He felt as if he had uncovered Snape’s great secret.

“Of course. I should have left behind a book,” Mara whispered softly, as if lost in a memory slipping away with time. A flicker of sadness crossed her delicate face.

Ian, however, failed to notice. He remained engrossed in the earth-shattering revelation that Snape was a copycat.

It made perfect sense. Snape might have obtained one of Mara’s potion books—perhaps deliberately sought it out, given his passion and pursuit in potion-making. It was entirely possible he came across her ancient potion manuscripts.

Just like the phrases “The king shall not be humiliated” and “Bearing the fate of the world, ruling over eternity.” Our Half-Blood Prince might have found these stirring words in Mara’s writings, igniting his inner drama, and thus making them his annual opening lines to freshmen.

Phew!

The more Ian thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

He felt he had caught Snape red-handed!

After all, just as Wu Cheng’en could not have written Journey to the West by playing a dark myth game, Teacher Mara was a long-deceased spirit—surely it wasn’t she who plagiarized Snape’s iconic quotes?