The weather during the rainy season was always unpredictable.
Though Ian had spent what felt like half a day in the Twilight Realm, barely any ti had passed in the real world. By the ti he returned to the Ravenclaw common room, the sky had opened up, drenching the castle in a relentless downpour.
Thunder and lightning tangled together, weaving a flickering net of light and shadow across the heavens. Each crackling bolt that split the night was like a furious beast baring its fangs to roar in defiance.
The wind howled through the castle's stone corridors, while heavy raindrops lashed against the ancient leaded windows like a volley of enchanted pebbles hurled by unseen hands, creating a rhythmic clatter.
Rain fell in shimring sheets, cascading like a spectral veil.
Droplets pooled and andered down the glass, leaving twisting trails that painted ghostly, shifting patterns. Beyond the blurred windows, the grounds of Hogwarts appeared distant and dreamlike, distorted by the storm's fury. The fire crackling in the hearth seed to flicker in response, as if joining the tempest's midnight symphony.
"I hope it keeps raining tomorrow, maybe they'll cancel Flying class."
Ian, now fully awake, slumped against the window ledge, where cold air seeped through the ancient stone. He gazed out at the lightning dancing between the storm clouds, not unlike a student in Muggle Studies wistfully hoping for a sudden magical mishap to cancel their afternoon lessons.
Bang. Bang.
The sound didn't co from outside but from Ian's own hand, where he idly turned several dark stones over his fingers. Ever since Rowena Ravenclaw had entrusted him with a volcanic rock imbued with old magic, he'd kept his pockets stuffed with similar stones, just in case anything went amiss while he attempted to replicate the Resurrection Stone.
After all, these stones were common enough around magical volcanoes. Even if he hauled back a trunkful, he doubted the goblins at Gringotts would raise an eyebrow. He hadn't even filled his expanded coin pouch to the brim, proof that, at the very least, he had so confidence in his alchemy skills. He was only a few days away from mastering this branch of magic and taking it to the next level.
Alchemy, as a discipline, was an intricate web of theory and craft, requiring far more patience than most branches of magic.
Progress was slow, even for a natural talent. Ian's pace was already considered impressive, helped in no small part by his unrestricted access to Hufflepuff's legendary gold vault, where he could conduct his research undisturbed.
"By tethering the spell to a specific entity, I can manipulate an incomplete Patronus Charm... So that's what Rowena Ravenclaw ant."
Ian murmured to himself, eyes narrowing as he traced the logic of the enchantnt in his mind.
"Before my magic attempts to manifest the Twilight Realm's projection, I need to first anchor a soul from within it. That way, I won't have to cast a full-fledged Patronus Charm and risk shouldering the entire burden of the Twilight Realm myself."
Standing before the rain-streaked window, Ian withdrew one of the Twilight Realm stones and unholstered his wand. He focused, intending to alter its form.
A Snitch, perhaps?
No, he wasn't trying to capture so rogue dream-creature flitting through the Twilight Realm.
A goblin's circlet?
That wouldn't do either, he had no intention of ensnaring a spirit like so ancient warlock of old.
"I rember Pandero still owes Professor Morgan a preserved dragon soul..."
With a flick of his wand, the black stone twisted and reford into a golden hoop, though it hardly resembled sothing that could fit over the horns of a great beast.
"Western dragons are powerful, sure, but as Patronuses go, the bigger they are, the harder they are to control. Even Grindelwald dismissed dragon Patronuses as impractical."
Ian smirked slightly, recalling their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's open disdain for oversized, unwieldy Patronuses. Clearly, he wasn't alone in that opinion.
The dark stone floated before him, suspended in midair. He moved his wand in slow, deliberate motions, urging the stone to shift its form again.
Nothing.
The rock simply reverted to its original state.
It seed he still hadn't quite cracked the thod.
"I wonder… could a Patronus take the form of a person? If that's possible, then the best choice would be to summon Professor Morgan to stand beside ."
His lips curled into a thoughtful smile.
"Not only that, since my Patronus is the Twilight Realm itself, surely I can anchor more than just one soul within it."
Flowers and vines, owls and sparrows, when I was overwheld, I saw countless creatures in the Twilight Realm. This is undoubtedly the unique nature of my Patronus Charm.
"If I anchor multiple souls at once, could I allow more than one to manifest in the mortal world as Patronuses? Ha, wouldn't that be a loophole on par with the Resurrection Stone's original function?"
"The Reaper Rowena Ravenclaw spoke of would surely be livid with ."
Ian withdraws the Resurrection Stone's original ring from his pocket. The trace of Tom's lingering soul had long since faded, leaving the stone bare of its forr corruption.
He wasn't sure whether this was the result of Rowena Ravenclaw's influence or a side effect of passing through the Twilight Realm, where ordinary magic faltered and dissolved, but whatever the reason, the malevolent curse Tom had placed upon the ring was now completely gone.
Even so, Ian had no intention of slipping the ring onto his own hand.
Rowena Ravenclaw had warned him repeatedly: wielding a Deathly Hallow ant forging an unspoken contract with Death itself. And Death, as she described it, was no benevolent force. It was an entity of rules, unyielding, absolute, and unlikely to take kindly to those who tampered with its domain.
"Who knows? It could be a petty sort, watching from the shadows, waiting for to exploit so loophole between the living and the dead before flying into a rage and exacting revenge."
Ian's wariness was in full force.
Perhaps this was the result of too many cautionary tales in his past life.
Ordinary objects turn deadly in the blink of an eye. Staircases shifting at the wrong mont and crumbling beneath one's feet. A simple spell miscast triggered an irreversible magical catastrophe.
If Death wished to retaliate, it would likely be through an absurd chain of accidents, a domino effect of seemingly random misfortunes, each one more bizarre and lethal than the last.
"Still, according to Rowena, the realm of the dead isn't exactly a peaceful place. If their deities are embroiled in conflict, perhaps I'll slip by unnoticed so long as I don't overstep my bounds."
"The Patronus Charm itself is no longer a problem. The real challenge is deciphering the alchemical inscriptions on the Resurrection Stone, those that bind a soul to this world."
Ian rolled the Resurrection Stone ring between his fingers, comparing it to the obsidian-like illusion stones he had retrieved from the Twilight Realm.
Before long, with a flick of his wand. An invisible force, like giant unseen hands, seized the seemingly unbreakable stones before him. Under the delicate touch of magic, their rigidity crumbled, and small fragnts, each no larger than a fingertip, peeled away.
With practiced precision, Ian guided the loose fragnts, reshaping them until they were indistinguishable from the Resurrection Stone itself.
(To Be Continued…)
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