21: Inverted Heavenly Gang!

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Inverted Heavenly Gang!
Snape might be skilled in and knowledgeable about the "Upside-Down Golden Bell" technique, but it was absolutely impossible for him to possess the ability to reverse cause and effect. Ian believed he had just witnessed the truth!
Snape was a plagiarist!
This was undoubtedly Snape’s biggest weakness—perhaps not as scandalous as his past with Lily Potter, but certainly a truth that could utterly ruin his reputation at Hogwarts.
Its impact was no less than that of a middle schooler telling the entire school that their online handle was "Scorn of Kings" and their signature read "Let the World Feel Pain!"
"You laugh so foolishly."
The witch was puzzled as to why Ian stood there grinning idiotically.
"I just thought of something funny."
Feeling the witch’s penetrating gaze, Ian immediately snapped back to reality.
"Does threatening others make you happy?"
The witch’s deep eyes seemed to see through everything.
"Professor Mara! And you said you couldn’t read minds!"
Ian was startled once again.
"You just asked me about that phrase, and now you’re standing here smiling foolishly. Anyone normal could easily guess what you’re scheming."
The witch rubbed her forehead in exasperation, as if unable to endure Ian’s stupidity.
"Tell me, who got my book?"
She seemed to care quite a bit about relics left behind in the mortal world.
"It was one of my professors. Every year when he teaches, he always starts with the same opening line—this very phrase that you, Professor Mara, wrote in some book."
Ian hurriedly explained.
"The professor who teaches you potions at that school called Hogwarts?" The witch nodded slightly upon hearing Ian’s confirmation, her tone somewhat indifferent.
"Not really an insult."
What exactly was insulted was obvious—of course, it was the knowledge written by this proud witch.
"Can potions really prevent death?"
Ian asked the question that had troubled many Hogwarts students their entire lives.
"Of course they can, but your professor definitely cannot." The witch chuckled ambiguously, her tone full of a curious certainty.
"Why?"
Ian quickly pressed for an answer.
"Because I have already cut down the last golden apple tree in the mortal world. The main ingredient needed for potions that can stop death or even reverse life and death is the golden apple."
The witch patiently explained to Ian, "Of course, if your professor is talented enough, perhaps he could find a substitute for the golden apple in the mortal world."
Though she said this, the witch’s tone was dismissive, clearly not believing that any potion master in the future could discover a magical substitute for the golden apple.
Ian didn’t believe it either.
After all, if Snape could truly prevent death, he wouldn’t be mocked by so many as a braggart—it’s not hard to see from the original story that Snape couldn’t brew such a potion.
However, now that Ian knew where and when that oft-repeated opening line originated, he found the source of Snape’s classic quote.
He couldn’t do it.
But someone had done it before...
"Professor Mara, why did you cut down the golden apple tree?" Ian had heard the witch mention cutting down the tree more than once and wondered if it was related to her lingering obsession in the Mirage Realm.
"Because I wanted to."
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The witch smiled brightly.
There was no hint of anything strange in her expression.
"Alright then."
Ian knew he wouldn’t get the real reason.
"Potions are different from magic; the ingredients keep changing. If you want to learn, you need to bring me some potion books from your era."
The witch deliberately changed the subject.
"Don’t you need some ingredients as well?"
Ian blinked.
"My dear apprentice, though I have been dead for a long time, I believe that even in your era, potion materials are never cheap."
"So, even if you need them, can you afford them?"
Lies don’t hurt.
Truth, however, is a sharp knife.
Ian’s youthful face flushed slightly when his poverty was exposed.
"As long as the school has the materials, I should be able to find some." Ian admitted he was poor, but Hogwarts was no impoverished school!
"Heh, I don’t want you to be hunted down by your own potions teacher." The witch was evidently a master potion maker, fully aware of the importance of potion ingredients to such a master.
"Professor Snape is quite nice to me. Maybe if I beg pitifully, he’ll lend me some ingredients. I already owe him quite a bit."
Ian said uncertainly.
"He’s so good to you, and you still want to threaten him? Tsk, tsk, you really have some qualities of a dark wizard." The witch’s eyes widened as she scrutinized Ian anew.
"..."
Ian didn’t know how to explain; to him, having leverage was like having a nuclear bomb—of course you don’t have to use it, but it’s better to have one than not.
"Enough, I won’t tease you anymore."
The witch waved her hand cheerfully.
"Don’t underestimate your teacher. I just haven’t touched this knowledge in a long time. You just need to bring me some modern books."
"It won’t be long before I catch up to your era and then... surpass it."
With unparalleled confidence, the witch’s pride shone through unmistakably.
Ian felt a surge of excitement.
Who wouldn’t want a boastful, impressive teacher!
The more impressive the teacher,
the more the student could learn!
He seemed to see a bright future ahead!
"Praise be to you, Professor Mara!"
Ian applauded enthusiastically and flattered her.
"Heh, you will surely achieve great things."
The witch was in a good mood and gave Ian her evaluation.
"Of course! After all, I have such an excellent teacher!"
Ian immediately responded, naturally and sincerely.
However...
"I was referring to your talent for flattery, which will surely smooth your path in the pursuit of power."
The witch continued to smile as she commented.
Was that praise?
It didn’t sound like it!
"How could heartfelt praise be called flattery..." Ian’s eyes widened sincerely, as if hearing something unbelievable.
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"See? I told you, you have talent."
The witch was clearly not buying it.
Even Ian, who was thick-skinned, felt a little embarrassed.
"Study magic well. Once you are strong enough, you won’t need to wear a disguise."
The witch gave Ian a meaningful admonition.
"I understand."
Ian’s expression grew more serious.
"Now then, my dull-witted apprentice, let’s begin learning some magic."
Suddenly standing up from the bench, the witch strode over to Ian with her long legs.
"You are far too weak right now."
Standing beside Ian, she was at least a head taller than him, radiating an aura of authority that made Ian feel an unavoidable pressure.
"I don’t have a wand."
Ian said nervously.
"A wand is just a tool."
The witch looked at Ian’s bewildered expression and sighed.
"Your era is... truly strange."
She couldn’t help but comment before raising her hand and snapping the metal frame of a painting in the hall.
Almost simultaneously—
No incantation.
No other gestures.
The metal frame gradually transformed into a standard wand shape as the witch handed it to Ian, though it was impossible to tell what kind of wood it was made from.
"Magic?"
Ian was stunned.
"It is knowledge."
The witch’s voice was steady.
Just as Ian was still pondering whether this cheap teacher was tricking him, she had already stepped behind him and placed her finger against the back of his head.
"Let’s start with a simple spell."
The moment the words fell, Ian felt a chilling dread that made him tremble with fear.
"Feel this murderous intent."
The witch’s calm voice made Ian realize something was very wrong.
What simple spell required sensing murderous intent?
"Feel with your heart, then repeat after me..."
With her finger pressed against the back of Ian’s head, a certain emotion flowed from her finger into Ian’s brain, flooding his mind with an overwhelming impulse.
"Avada Kedavra."
Within the magnificent hall,
The fire crackled in the hearth.
The witch taught her apprentice the first spell.