Morning mist condensed into tiny droplets on the stained glass, slowly falling along the pointed arches of the red song. Ian stood under the corridor’s chandelier, watching the starlight flowing on rlin’s magic robe gradually dim.
"Wooo~"
It wasn’t crying.
rlin was pressed to the ground by Ian, with the barrel of a Gatling gun stuffed in his mouth, unable to speak. He could only raise his hands to indicate his surrender.
Ian pretended not to see it and kept pushing the Gatling gun barrel deeper into rlin’s throat. Even Dumbledore, unable to watch this cruel scene any longer, quickly intervened.
"Enough, Ian, Mr. Ambrosius has clearly surrendered." The old Headmaster hoped Ian would show so dueling etiquette and believed there should be so respect for rlin.
Even though rlin had reasons unknown to attack him and Nicolas Flal, he was still a true sage. Without rlin, the Wizarding World wouldn’t have developed as far as it has today.
This is no exaggeration.
rlin made outstanding contributions to advancing magic studies, laying the foundation for spells that allowed more wizards with magic power to safely study magic.
Of course, looking back now, perhaps rlin’s deep exploration was not rely a whim to simplify magic; maybe he witnessed forms of magic spells at so point.
But no matter the reason.
rlin’s contributions to wizards cannot be erased—currently, Ian seems intent on forcibly training rlin in England’s traditions, which made Dumbledore a bit uncomfortable.
"Alright, Headmaster, as long as you are satisfied." Ian actually had no enmity towards rlin; he just knew from success stories that leaders need to see one working hard.
Seeing Dumbledore speak up, Ian of course imdiately stopped, not only putting away the Gatling gun but also extending his hand to help rlin up from the cold ground.
"..."
At first, rlin didn’t want to take Ian’s hand or accept his help, but he weighed his options and chose not to refuse. Mainly for fear Ian would kick him down again and insult him for not showing face—rlin believed the guy in front of him would definitely do such a thing.
Co on!
He is rlin, after all!
He also has pride! Doesn’t he?
"I’ve won again, Great Mage."
Ian couldn’t help but feel that defeating rlin was easier than defeating Voldemort. If his system had a title function, he’d love to give himself the title "rlin’s Bane."
"Yes, you’ve won again."
rlin was completely numb, even losing the desire to argue. He knew he was outmatched by Ian, both before and even more so now when he couldn’t use complex spells.
If not for that.
He wouldn’t have resorted to such ways of retaliating against the little wizard. Ignoring Ian’s Animagus form immunity, his current limited magic abilities offer no hope!
"Mr. Ambrosius, I believe you owe us an explanation." Although Dumbledore was the attacked party, he still maintained his courtesy. In contrast, Nicolas Flal was deep in thought, possibly considering how Alchemy could punish rlin.
Nicolas Flal was quite clever.
However.
Those who understand the complexities of love and hatred.
So fans might find this relatable.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I bear no malice towards you." rlin sighed and finally spoke, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness and sincerity.
"It’s safer for fewer people to know about my existence." As he spoke, he held out his hand, releasing the Elder Wand back to Dumbledore.
Upon regaining the Deathly Hallow, Dumbledore didn’t pay it much mind. He only looked at the wand in his hand, his eyes flashing with complex emotions.
He then glanced at Ian standing beside rlin, looking between them as if wanting to say sothing, but ultimately only nodding lightly.
"For what reason?"
Dumbledore continued to inquire patiently while pocketing the Deathly Hallow.
"How to put it, it has to do with so trouble I encountered." rlin shook his head, his expression showing helplessness and sorrow, as if recalling an unpleasant mory.
His eyes flickered with a trace of indescribable pain.
In response.
"Sounds convenient, but how can I be sure you’re not deceiving us?" The little wizard wasn’t easily satisfied, raising an eyebrow with a tone of skepticism.
"Anyone who knows I’m still alive is in danger; I’m not exaggerating—it’s a fact... My existence is akin to poison in so form."
"The more one knows, the deeper they’re poisoned."
rlin explained seriously to Ian, knowing he couldn’t persuade Ian otherwise nor cast Obliviate on Dumbledore and Nicolas Flal.
"Is there really such a thing?"
Ian’s gaze remained filled with doubt.
Under Ian’s peculiar scrutiny, rlin hesitated for a mont, then seed to make a decision, gently closing his eyes, and began to open up part of his mind.
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