Chapter 50: Ice Magic, Legacy of the White Witch

Ino sat quietly in his dormitory, deep in thought for a long time.

Then he took out the parchment left by the White Witch from his inner pocket.

Since he had chosen a life of unrestrained freedom, he needed the confidence to enjoy that freedom.

As the White Witch, who had frozen an entire continent for a hundred years, she was undoubtedly his best teacher.

He didn't need to inherit everything, but even half of her power would make him formidable in the world of Harry Potter—not rare, but free and at ease.

…

At the desk.

Ino carefully examined the parchment in his hand. It described only three spells.

But each spell was detailed, explaining their incantations, extended applications, and the emotions associated with them.

Yes, emotions.

This made him think even more that the White Witch's magic was not that of a traditional wizard, but rather a warlock.

As for the key to unlocking the parchment, or rather the prerequisite for learning ice magic…

It was probably the other petal that had melted earlier.

In the quiet dormitory, time passed unnoticed.

An hour later.

Ino folded the parchment carefully and placed it back into his inner pocket.

He then took several deep breaths, slowly adjusting his emotions.

Expression, demeanor, emotion—he did his best to mimic the White Witch from his memories.

Meanwhile, the temperature in the entire dormitory began to drop.

Although it wasn't as dramatic as the White Witch altering the weather with a mere gesture, the moist soil in the two ceramic flowerpots on the table began to freeze over with frost.

"Ice Shard!"

In mid-air, a pale blue crystalline arrow slowly formed.

After a brief delay, two more identical ice arrows formed beside the first.

Feeling the ice arrows wouldn't increase further, Ino raised his wand, aiming the arrows at an empty wall in the dormitory.

With a wave, the three ice arrows shot out instantly.

In the blink of an eye, the arrows struck the wall, not creating any spectacular effects. The wall showed no signs of damage, only fragments of shattered ice scattered on the ground.

Despite the seemingly minimal impact, Ino was very pleased.

First was the speed—the ice arrows were faster than any spell he could currently cast.

Second was the subtlety—nearly transparent pale blue arrows were hard to notice even in daylight, let alone at night.

As for the power… this was the main castle. If it were easy to damage, Hogwarts wouldn't have stood in the Scottish Highlands for a thousand years.

Although satisfied in many respects, Ino knew this wasn't the ice arrow's limit.

The parchment clearly stated that the White Witch once created a barrage of thousands of ice arrows, wiping out an entire airborne griffin army.

Even though it was just a brief mention, included only to emphasize the spell's potential, it still conveyed the magic's charm—unlimited stacking potential, as many arrows as one's power could muster.

From his experiment, Ino had a clear sense: with his current magic, three arrows might not be the limit, but it wouldn't exceed seven.

Therefore, he needed to improve the conjuring speed and shooting accuracy as much as possible.

If he couldn't achieve a barrage, he had to focus on precision strikes.

…

For the next while.

Ino had great fun in the dormitory—single shots, three-shot bursts, shooting in a triangular formation.

He even whimsically thought, if he could someday cast without a wand and use a longbow, he could pretend to be an ice archer…

He had a lot of fun.

But it took a toll on the dormitory's fireplace. The small fire struggled against the extreme cold, the faint flames looking ready to go out at any moment.

Likewise, frost covered the dormitory walls, table surfaces, even the bed frame, with icicles forming in some places.

Yet Ino seemed oblivious to it all.

For so many years, since arriving in this world, he had always been cautious in everything he did, never experiencing true freedom.

Today, after breaking free of his restraints, he knew practicing magic in the dormitory would be discovered and reported to the professors, but he didn't care at all.

In this frost-filled environment, Ino felt no cold—if anything, it wasn't cold enough.

He seemed naturally adapted to extreme cold, finding it increasingly comfortable as the temperature dropped.

…

Two hours later, the dormitory door opened.

"My Merlin! Help! Ahhhh!"

Malfoy, ending a day of wandering, was about to return to his dormitory to rest.

But as he opened the door, the cold air hit him directly.

Thanks to the superior constitution of wizards over Muggles, Malfoy managed a final scream with frost forming on his eyebrows and his eyelids freezing shut.

Then he collapsed like an ice sculpture, straight to the ground.

This sudden incident made Ino realize the severity of the situation.

As the cold air spread to the Slytherin common room, everyone there became aware of the problem.

…

In the Potions classroom.

The atmosphere was tense. The flickering candlelight added to the room's solemnity.

Ino, facing the expressionless Snape, wanted to explain but didn't know how.

The incident had escalated. Though unaware of Malfoy's condition, he had been carried to the hospital wing, a fact no one could deny.

Ino had wanted to help but was restrained by the prefects, and now he found himself in the Potions classroom, awaiting judgment.

…

Time passed slowly.

"This time, we'll let it slide," Snape finally said.

"Don't practice magic in the castle anymore. The Black Lake, the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch—anywhere but here."

Hearing this, Ino breathed a sigh of relief. Though curious about Snape's change in attitude and lack of pursuit for responsibility, the outcome was the best he could have hoped for—a genuine warning.

Just as he thought it was over, Snape's cold voice spoke again.

"I'll personally write to Lucius about Draco's situation. You don't need to worry about it."

"Thank you, Professor!" Ino's gratitude was heartfelt.

If Snape hadn't reminded him, he might have forgotten the Malfoy family's influence in Britain.

Without someone influential to vouch for him, his summer would have been miserable.

___