He gritted his teeth tightly, pounding his head with both hands, his expression extremely pained, and when he met Ian's gaze, his eyes shone even brighter with vertical pupils.
"It's my special magic potion, Ancestor's Joy Soup." Ian explained while forcefully prying open Harry Potter's jaw, which might not even clench so tightly when being violated.
"Glug glug glug ~"
After Ian had poured an entire bottle of the potion into Harry Potter's mouth, the effect was immediate, and Harry Potter, who had seemed like he could die at any moment, instantly calmed down.
"It seems quite effective..."
Harry Potter was drenched from head to toe, utterly exhausted; perhaps only he knew how terrifying it felt just now as if his head was about to explode.
The Savior's fingers dug deep into the flesh and blood on his head.
Both cheeks were dripping with fresh blood.
"Of course, all of my magic potions are top-quality." Ian glanced again at the crystal ball in his hand, its glow shifting once more into a pale white light.
He was increasingly convinced of his inner suspicions.
"Can you teach me? I fear I might really need such a magical potion." Harry Potter was somewhat worried he might face similar sudden illnesses in the future.
"I'm afraid not, Harry. The ingredients for this potion are all forbidden substances, and you won't be able to handle them." Ian wasn't stingy; he just didn't want Mr. Savior to be led astray.
The Wizarding World doesn't need the Nine Ancient Schools.
"Is that so... Alright..." Harry Potter, a student of Slytherin College, had already heard snippets about Ian's 'lawlessness' from his classmates.
Searching his conscience.
With no background of his own, he truly dared not brew forbidden potions. After all, the clout of the Seven Surnames Half-Blood could not be compared to that of a mere Potter.
Children without parents mature early.
Harry Potter understood the reality that to navigate the world one must have influence and connections; just because some can do certain things doesn't mean everyone can.
"Can I use Golden Galleons to buy a few more bottles as backup?" After weighing the costs of illegal actions, Harry Potter thought purchasing the potion would entail fewer risks.
He may lack love.
But he certainly didn't lack Golden Galleons.
"It's not about the Golden Galleons, but rather you might need to meet with Dumbledore. Treating the symptoms isn't as good as curing the root cause; we need to find a way to address the hidden dangers you're facing."
Ian uncharacteristically refused the opportunity to earn Golden Galleons.
He wasn't without his limits.
Judging by Harry Potter's situation, certain issues seemed beyond his 'Prophet' judgment, likely due to a butterfly effect triggered by the early elimination of several of Voldemort's Soul Artifacts.
"What hidden dangers... do we really need to see the Headmaster? Is my situation that serious?" Seeing Ian's serious expression, Harry Potter felt increasingly uneasy.
"Do you still remember the whispered screams you made earlier?" Ian dared not overestimate Harry Potter's courage, so he chose not to mention the matter of Harry Potter himself being a Soul Artifact.
Moreover, he was more concerned with Harry Potter's whispered screams earlier.
"Uh... I don't remember..."
Harry Potter's restored eyes showed an extremely puzzled expression; he seemed to be trying hard to recall, his hand covering his still-bleeding head.
"It felt like I saw some scenes: a prisoner with chains around his neck, no face... those eyes filled with emotionless coldness and madness."
With furrowed brows, Harry Potter struggled to recall—a sudden moment, his body began to tremble ceaselessly, and his visibly panicked expression became apparent.
"No! He's coming closer to me!"
"He's going to tear me apart!"
Harry Potter's eyes flickered a few times but didn't revert to the vertical pupils. Like a low-battery bulb, the fleeting flicker soon dimmed again.
The potion that Ian used indeed had targeted efficacy.
"Alright, alright, stop thinking about it."
Seeing Harry Potter's pale face and his hands and legs flailing uncontrollably, Ian immediately wanted to stop Harry Potter from touching that thing in his mind further.
"Okay."
Mr. Savior agreed swiftly.
However.
After nodding.
He immediately chose to shut down on the spot, eyes rolling back.
He passed out right in front of Ian.
"..."
Fortunately, the little wizard quickly caught Harry Potter's head with his foot.
"I didn't mean for you to stop thinking that completely." Ian sighed helplessly, looking at the clock on the wall; there were about twenty minutes left before the class started.
"Wake up?"
Slapping Harry Potter twice didn't yield a therapeutic effect, so Ian had no choice but to use Wingardium Leviosa to lift Harry Potter, striding his little legs toward the infirmary.
Leaving the corner where they conversed.
In the hallway outside.
With class time nearing, many little wizards were hustling to and fro. They all were drawn to Ian's peculiar sight, one after another showing astonished expressions.
There was no choice.
Harry Potter's self-scratched face was still bleeding.
As they walked along.
Blood continued to drip to the floor.
Looking frightening.