Of course.
A space the size of a football field isn't the limit of the Enlargement Charm; it's just the extent of Ian's current control over the spell. In the future, he will definitely continue to expand the space inside the money bag.
Whether it's needed or not is secondary.
What Ian wants is a four-dimensional pocket of his own, like Doraemon's.
"You guys get in there too."
After a bit of thought, Ian ultimately chose not to destroy that large pile of Muggle bones. Rather than incinerating them into ashes with a Fiery Fire, he preferred to boil Old Tom's bones into broth.
In Magic Potion, human bone powder is also a material, and it's something hard to acquire through normal channels. The bone of Voldemort's father was hidden among a pile of legitimate Muggle bones.
Ian felt it would be a real waste to destroy them all just to prevent future troubles—he dug up the entire village cemetery because he couldn't find which one was Old Tom in the time he had.
"Future troubles aren't a big deal. Just in case we need to save Soul Artifact Harry Potter, we'll need Old Tom's bones. Snape would certainly be willing to admit I'm his most gifted student, just to save Mr. Savior's life, and then write a guarantee to earn Ravenclaw at least a hundred points a semester."
Ian also wanted to stuff a Dementor bound like a dumpling into his money bag, but he still hadn't found a way to adjust the bag's tightness. The Dementor, as bulky as Hagrid, got its head stuck at the bag's entrance. Helpless, Ian had to pull the Dementor back out.
"Why can't you have a balloon head!" Ian locked the Dementor back in a cage and hid it away. The pitiful Dementor curled up in the corner of the cage, seemingly sobbing.
It's a scene that other wizards have definitely never witnessed. After tidying up the rather messy Room of Requirement, Ian realized it was already two or three in the afternoon. Luckily, today is Halloween, so Hogwarts is off the whole day; otherwise, he would definitely have earned the new achievement of skipping class all day.
"Let's eat! I want to eat!" Just as Ian was about to leave, the portrait in the classroom he frequently used suddenly spoke.
"If Salazar were still alive, he'd surely kill you."
They had never spoken before. This was the first time, startling Ian, making him turn around quickly. It was a lively, red-haired youth he had never seen before. Throughout Hogwarts, this figure had never appeared in any portrait, nor in this classroom.
You should know, Ian spent quite some time bothering those portraits in the castle trying to understand the principles of "Magic Artificial Intelligence."
"Are you an ancestor of the Weasley family? Honestly, I just wanted to study the Bloodline Origin of Snake-man through those bones. I never expected to accidentally create a Book of Bones last night."
Ian stared at the youth's somewhat fluffy red hair. The portraits here were of Hogwarts' outstanding graduates, almost all masters in the fields of Magic Potion and Alchemy.
"I don't have descendants. Descendants would only affect the speed of my sword drawing. Could the Weasley family produce someone as handsome as me?" The red-haired youth in the portrait shot back immediately.
"Oh, you're Gryffindor." Ian gazed at the portrait originally supposed to be of a picnicking witch, wondering where the red-haired youth had sent her off in the landscape of mountains and rivers.
"Quick reflexes, you wicked little Ravenclaw brat," the red-haired youth in the portrait chuckled, not denying it, as he picked an apple from a nearby fruit tree.
"You should address me with respect."
Gryffindor's portrait found he couldn't bite the apple in his hand.
"This portrait is clearly just a few years older than me—not even a Founder yet. The portrait of Gryffindor hanging by the staircase is the true ancestral Founder." Ian, somewhat indignant at being called an evil little brat, blinked seriously, saying something that left Gryffindor momentarily speechless.
However.
Gryffindor wasn't angry about it.
"I certainly won't deny that, but only I am the portrait into which the real one poured his heart and soul. No matter when the painting that captured me was created, if I appear, I can have you recognized by the little Gryffindor wizards," the smiling red-haired youth clearly grasped Ian's personality.
"I salute you, great ancestral Founder." Iain, seemingly a great student of Grindelwald's face-changing arts, immediately adopted a respectful tone and bowed to the painting above him.
Craftsmanship Spirit reappears!
"Such a sycophantic brat, just like Salazar. What a pity, if you hadn't stolen the bones of his descendants, you might have earned his recognition too."
Gryffindor's words made Ian's eyes light up.
"Are there any of Slytherin's portraits in the school? Gathering the recognition of the Four Founders' portraits, does it give some benefit?" In these matters, Ian's mind works very quickly.
"You should be able to see his portrait in his Secret Chamber; there's a hidden laboratory inside," Gryffindor returned the apple to the fruit tree. "You might gain something from Ravenclaw's portrait. She left a secret treasure for the apprentice she never found."
This statement had a double meaning.