In the Apocalypse, I Can Enter Hogwarts

Chapter 420 My First Day as Principal and His Portrait

After entertaining everyone, Ian returned to the principal's office on the eighth floor in the evening.

Unlike before, this time he returned here as the owner.

It sounds ridiculous, but after his identity changed, Ian actually felt a faint sense of familiarity here, like a long-lost wanderer returning to his hometown after many years.

It's a peculiar feeling, like even though I've been wandering for many years and my hometown has changed a lot, there's not a trace of unfamiliarity; everything is as familiar as it was in my childhood.

Sitting in his chair, Ian gathered his scattered thoughts, then looked at Dumbledore opposite him and asked:

"Is your portrait finished?"

"It's already being made, but I need to keep it with me for at least three years, otherwise it will be completely useless."

As if he had finally shed the heavy burden he had carried for so long, Dumbledore exuded a sense of ease and vitality.

Ian was well aware that the portrait had little connection to wizards, and it was not, as speculated on the forums of his previous life, a so-called alternative Horcrux or alternative immortality.

If I had to describe it, the portrait would be like a blank memory.

It requires a wizard to keep the image by their side year-round, actively inputting memories and thoughts, and allowing the image to imitate it little by little in order to gradually form a relatively complete and independent personality.

It's fortunate that the portrait of the Hogwarts Headmaster is protected by the castle's magic; otherwise, portraits in other places, lacking daily maintenance, would gradually lose their dynamism and become mechanical and rigid over time.

Closer to home.

After learning that Dumbledore's portrait was already being made, Ian did not continue the topic.

"Professor, are you prepared to use a more conciliatory approach?"

This wasn't just a wild guess; given Dumbledore's style, it was difficult for him to be truly decisive in killing, so he was curious about what methods the Order of the Phoenix would use to deal with werewolves.

"It's not what you think." Dumbledore seemed to have expected this and gave his answer directly.

"Gellert is already investigating, and our appeasement and compensation will only be directed at the innocent survivors."

Upon hearing this, Ian nodded. This was very much in line with Dumbledore's style; it wasn't blindly kind, but rather showed the greatest goodwill within reasonable limits.

"If you need my help, please have Fox let me know. I will try to brew enough wolfsbane medicine when I have time, but I hope you will never need it."

The words had barely left his lips when a brief silence fell over the room. Both of them now considered the hidden danger lurking beneath their skin; Wolf Poison didn't care about identity or allegiance—once infected, no one was spared.

Ian then thought of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, estimating that only Arthur, Kingsley, and Mad-Eye Moody could protect themselves, while the rest, such as Sirius, Tonks, and Prewitt, were truly in danger.

a long time.

Dumbledore sighed softly and said, "I don't want to use it either, but..."

Before he could finish speaking, Ian interrupted him, saying, "Professor, don't overthink it! Besides, many things will change in the future. Haven't you noticed that the development of potions in the last two years has almost equaled that of the past two hundred years?"

He couldn't stand this pessimism; it felt like the casualties had been heavy even before it had started.

After a brief pause, Ian added, "The most direct change that fungi bring to magic is to herbs. Herbs cultivated by them are like a completely new species, which is perfectly reflected in potions."

"So, Professor! We really don't need to be too pessimistic. As long as we do our best to keep them alive, the future is constantly changing..."

……

Over the next hour or so of conversation, Ian noticed that Dumbledore was more concerned about the safety of Hogwarts than about the arrangements for the Order of the Phoenix.

He had no curiosity about this. In the end, the threat of the survivor werewolves was just a minor issue that could not be taken seriously, even if they could cause a lot of casualties among Muggles.

But as long as the wizards go all out, the werewolves won't be able to cause much trouble under their thunderous attacks. For one thing, Grindelwald alone could easily wipe out the entire continent of Europe with a little effort.

Don't even mention hiding; you have to understand that divination from a prophet's crystal ball is no joke.

That night, Ian stayed overnight in the principal's office.

That is, the room next to the secret room, a lounge hidden behind a large dressing mirror. You only need to tap the mirror frame with your wand to reveal the door.

Moreover, before leaving, Professor Dumbledore packed all his personal belongings into a box that could be expanded with an extension spell, and took everything with him.

Interestingly, Ian noticed that the suitcase looked almost identical to Newt's briefcase, though he wondered if the interior space was the same.

But it must be different. He had heard of Newt's Box, which was said to be the product of the entire Hufflepuff community releasing an extension spell.

I slept very soundly that night.

The next morning, his biological clock, which had been absent for a long time, returned, and Ian opened his sleepy eyes at 7:30 a.m.

After washing up, I sat at my large desk and enjoyed the sumptuous breakfast brought to me by my house-elf in the kitchen.

"I feel like I've forgotten something..." Ian murmured.

Just then, Principal Blake, the most unpopular figure in the portrait, spoke gleefully in his hoarse voice:

"Kid, if I were you, I'd put down my breakfast and go open the office door right now. Your vice principal has been standing there for fifteen minutes."

"Open the door... password! I knew I forgot something..." Ian slapped his forehead, instantly remembering that he hadn't set a new password yet.

So we are currently in a password-free state, meaning that no one, regardless of who they are, can enter the office.

Thinking of this, Ian put down his cutlery and immediately got up and walked towards the door.

……

A few minutes later, looking at the decisive Professor McGonagall, Ian said apologetically, "I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, I forgot to tell you the new password last night."

Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, was very magnanimous: "It's not your fault, Headmaster! And you can call me Minerva. I'm just early today; it's not even working hours yet."

As she spoke, Professor McGonagall glanced at the barely touched breakfast on the table and realized that she had come at the wrong time.

"No! It's not early." Ian took over the conversation and said, "I'll still call you Professor Minerva. In my heart, you will always be the most qualified professor. And I hope you'll continue to call me Ian. It sounds more friendly than 'Mr. Headmaster'."

Upon hearing this, Professor McGonagall pursed her lips but said nothing more. However, the gentle expression on her face undoubtedly proved that she was in a very good mood.

(End of this chapter)