But his words sent ripples through Ian's mind, each one deepening his sense of unease.
"You an…"
Ian could already guess what Dumbledore was implying, but the thought was so staggering that he hesitated to say it aloud. It was even more bewildering than a ti loop.
"Yes, child, it is precisely what you are thinking." Dumbledore's voice remained steady. "Professor Ronnie Ehrlich's condition is not unique to him. It is the condition of all of us at this very mont— except for you."
Ian felt the chill settle into his bones.
"Not only has he been reduced to a fragnt of fate that has been severed, but everything you are experiencing now is rely another piece of fate that has been cut away."
"Of course, our circumstances differ from his," Dumbledore continued. "We exist as possibilities yet unrealized, while Ronnie Ehrlich embodies all the possibilities that have already been exhausted."
"He is the linchpin holding this entire… realm together. We do not yet fully understand the chanisms of this magic, but one thing is clear: he is the key to your escape and your return to the proper course of ti."
Dumbledore spoke with such calm certainty that it made the statent all the more unsettling.
"This is madness!"
Ian could hardly fathom magic that defied even the fundantal principles of existence itself. He raised his hand, staring at the rune on his skin.
"So I'm not actually caught in a ti loop?"
Ian's confusion was t with a slow shake of Dumbledore's head.
"It is fate, and it is ti."
"You will indeed experience ti loops, but what you are experiencing is not the true past for you; it is rely those various possibilities that have not been anchored at the correct mont."
"There is a limit. From the Christmas you keep ntioning, today marks exactly forty-nine days. Our founder has gathered the unanchored fates that have not occurred within this span."
"So, to break the cycle, in my view, you need to allow ti to flow correctly once more. Our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor believes we must still uncover the true way to destroy Professor Ronnie Ehrlich. Once we eliminate the core of this enchanted realm, it will naturally collapse."
Every word Albus Dumbledore spoke sent tremors through Ian's heart, yet he remained strangely composed, unlike what one might expect.
Grindelwald was the sa.
It was unsettling to imagine how the two of them had stood in the underground chamber, calmly deliberating how to end everyone, including themselves. For if Ian shattered the cycle, everything here would cease to exist, and all the loops they had endured would fade as though they had never happened at all.
In the living world, they would continue to exist.
But here, they would all revert to what they truly were: fragnts unanchored by fate, re possibilities discarded by history.
"This is far more terrifying than simply tampering with ti," Ian murmured. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I don't an to doubt your judgnt, but is there any chance that Salazar Slytherin has deceived you?"
Ian swallowed hard. In this life and the last, he had never encountered such an impossible predicant, nor had he ever faced such formidable figures as Grindelwald and Dumbledore.
"There is no mistake, child. The confirmation ca precisely from what our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor saw in the corridor," Dumbledore said as he poured tea into three cups, steam curling in a delicate mist.
"I borrowed the principles of the Resurrection Stone and then harnessed the aid of the Patronus Charm," Ian admitted. At this point, there was no longer any reason to keep Grindelwald's secret.
Besides, the mont his Patronus Charm had reached maturity, concealnt had beco aningless.
"Ian, I believe you possess talents and powers beyond our comprehension. However, even though I do not understand all of your secrets, I do understand the world I have lived in for over a century."
"The boundary between life and death is vast. Even if you used the Patronus Charm to summon a soul from beyond, to let it wander the corridor for so long, it should have been an imnse strain."
"Your magical reserves are not yet strong enough to sustain it for that length of ti," Dumbledore explained patiently, one of the few wizards who could so openly critique Ian's magical abilities.
"Is that what you call evidence?" Ian asked, realization dawning.
Sure enough.
"Precisely. Unless the place we are in is not truly the mortal realm, but rather sothing perilously close to the edge of death itself, only then would you be able to achieve this so effortlessly."
Dumbledore's tone was light, as though he had already co to terms with the revelation. His gaze rested briefly on the elder wood wand faintly visible within Ian's robes.
Ian understood instantly.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A warm, ethereal mist unfurled from the tip of his wand, silver threads coalescing in the air. At first, the shape was indistinct, no more than a shifting, spectral blur, its outline vaguely resembling a scarecrow.
But then—
As Ian poured more of his magic into it, the figure beca clearer, its form and features sharpening with startling definition.
The air in the office grew still. Not a sound broke the silence.
Albus Dumbledore even held his breath, his usual composure slipping away; the light in his eyes burned with an intensity never seen before.
"How I wish this dream would never end."
His lips trembled, his voice carrying an unfamiliar fragility.
When he saw the figure before him— unchanged, untouched by ti, exactly as he rembered, tears spilled freely down the old professor's face.
"Ian? Has it been two days over there? Is your Christmas still not over?" The girl opened her eyes, imdiately recognizing Ian, who was still reeling from the revelations monts before.
"So, no present for to unwrap?" She glanced around before her gaze fell upon Albus Dumbledore, who had risen to his feet, his lips parting in silence, unable to form words.
At first, her expression held only mild confusion. But then, she seed to recognize the familiar features in the weary yet distinguished face before her.
"Albus? Is that you, brother?"
She drifted toward him.
Unexpectedly, the professor who had faced death itself without flinching instinctively stepped back, nearly stumbling over the wooden leg of a chair.
Fortunately, Ariana caught his arm before he could fall.
"Ari… Anna…"
His voice cracked as if disbelief had dried his throat. A trembling hand reached out, uncertain, toward Ariana's youthful face.
"It's , Albus." Ariana lifted a hand to wipe away the tears streaking down his lined face, her fingers ghosting over the deep creases left by ti.
"Albus, life must have been cruel to you." She embraced him, and the reproach he had long dreaded never ca.
His body shuddered.
He hesitated, his hands hovering in the air, torn between the weight of guilt, regret, and the desperate yearning to hold his sister once more.
"You have spent a lifeti redeeming yourself, Professor," Ian spoke not as a judge, but as one who understood what Albus Dumbledore needed to hear in that mont.
"I must say," Dumbledore murmured, looking at Ian, "Compared to Slytherin, your magic is the true… miracle."
He could not begin to fathom the depths of the magic Ian had woven.
But in that instant— seeing Ariana again, knowing he could reach out and touch her, Dumbledore felt sothing stir within him. A fire, long buried beneath the weight of past mistakes, roared to life.
He understood now. Understood exactly what he must do.
"You must leave this place! Ian Prince, even if Salazar Slytherin himself seeks to ensnare you, I will see to it that you return to where you belong!"
"No one will stop this! Not even a legend a thousand years in the making!"
The old professor's voice, though still hoarse with emotion, rang with unshakable resolve.
(End Of This Chapter)
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