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Clearly, he and Dumbledore saw things from the sa perspective.
"Because this all traces back to Slytherin's legacy?" Ian ventured, piecing things together.
Dumbledore nodded. "Precisely. The cycle you're caught in stems from his influence. And though Slytherin was a legend, he was still a wizard. That fact alone gives us the insight we need to break free."
"No matter how complex, profound, or obscure a wizard's magic may be, it is still bound by the nature of magic itself," He continued. "It can never surpass the fundantal laws that govern our world."
There was a clarity to Dumbledore's reasoning, a simple yet irrefutable truth that, once understood, cut through the confusion like a blade through parchnt.
"Got it!" Ian suddenly understood.
In truth, he'd known it for so ti, it was just that the emotional resonance had finally settled into place. The mont he realised that everything he siphoned off in each loop would fade in the next, Ian had already grasped the limitations of Slytherin's enchantnts. Albus Dumbledore's thorough explanation simply cleared away the remaining mist.
Of course.
Ian didn't make the mistake of underestimating Slytherin's thods. They had, after all, reached beyond the grasp of ordinary wizardry— severing not only a thread of fate itself, but also cutting off his greatest magical boon.
Alongside the seven-day pact of the Twilight Realm.
Though his link with magic and the Twilight Realm remained intact, he had not once managed to cross into the Twilight Realm during all these repeating cycles.
In one such cycle, Ian had posed the question to Professor Morgan through Ariana. The response had been cryptic— Professor Morgan simply noted that "ti within the mortal realm had hardly shifted at all."
Ian could only infer that his ans of entering the Twilight Realm must, sohow, hinge upon the passage of ti in the physical world. And Slytherin's spellcraft had clearly wrenched him into a place no longer tethered to it.
Much like his first step into the Twilight Realm, where ti within that realm would stretch and warp— half a day's wander might amount to no more than a few fleeting minutes in the waking world. Even after lingering within the loop for several days, perhaps only half an hour had ticked by beyond it. That aligned perfectly with Albus Dumbledore's theory: that these cycles existed entirely beyond the bounds of the living world.
After quietly absorbing Dumbledore's insight—
"So, the counter-spell you've co up with is Finite Incantatem?" The young wizard didn't just offer emotional energy, he knew that the finest professors appreciated pupils who asked clever questions.
And sure enough—
Albus Dumbledore smiled. "The magic we shall use is indeed based on Finite Incantatem, but to shatter such an enchantnt, I've taken certain liberties with the incantation."
As he spoke, the venerable headmaster withdrew a folded parchnt and handed it to Ian.
"After several loops of accumulation, I've managed to construct this adapted version of Finite Incantatem. You won't have much ti to learn it."
Not only was ti short— each point on the page had to be grasped and enacted without delay. It must be said that the circumstances were certainly hurried. Any other wizard might've called it a Herculean task. After all, even the most gifted magical students struggled with the base spell Finite, let alone its advanced counterpart.
But of course—
For Ian, this wasn't so impossible mountain.
That didn't stop him from grumbling.
"You lot really know how to pile on the pressure! This looks mad complicated."
After taking the parchnt from Dumbledore, he attempted the spell with cautious flicks of his wand. Several failed attempts followed until finally, a steady, glowing light blossod, marking the ergence of sustained magical energy.
"Good thing I've still got a bit of brilliance tucked away." As usual, Ian had hoped to impress, saving the reveal for dramatic flair, but it didn't quite land the way he wanted with Albus Dumbledore or Grindelwald.
"Very good."
Dumbledore rely nodded without expression. Grindelwald, for his part, raised a hand in approval, but his casual tone made the young wizard feel even more deflated.
"You'll have to find a new trick next ti," Grindelwald said brightly, and Ian's sigh of disappointnt beca his amusent.
"Right then, now that I've got the spell down, does it require all three of us to cast it together?" Ian could only shake his head. He'd offered them so much heartfelt emotion, and still, neither of the old wizards had the faintest understanding of emotional reciprocity. Not a shred of encouragent.
"Yes, that is Gellert's perspective."
Albus Dumbledore gave a solemn nod, drawing his weathered wand from within his robes, though one hand still gripped the Sorting Hat tightly.
"What's the reasoning behind it?" Ian's gaze turned inquisitively toward the professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"There is reasoning, indeed." Grindelwald's voice held its usual gravity. "Just as seven is a number deeply rooted in magic, so too is the number three. The most familiar example, of course, is the Deathly Hallows."
He cast a aningful glance at Dumbledore's wand— ancient and powerful and then turned his eyes back to Ian with deliberate intensity.
"I've spent years poring over the annals of magical history," He continued, voice rich with implication. "In my interpretation, seven is the number of fate, of what must be. But three… three stands for that which may defy fate."
"If you ever delve into magical history yourself, you'll find a curious pattern: in the tales where the impossible becos possible, there are nearly always three central figures."
"It was true long ago, remains true now, and perhaps, even if ti itself collapses, it shall be true again…" Grindelwald's voice carried a haunting weight, as though echoing through so distant corridor of ti.
Staring into the lined face of the Defence professor, Ian's eye twitched involuntarily. For a mont, he wondered whether the old man had been sneaking a read of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, or worse, so fantastical retelling of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.
Seers can be unnervingly accurate…
Which is why, perhaps, even a fate already twisted can still be glimpsed through the cracks. After all, Ian couldn't shake the feeling that Grindelwald's cryptic musings had sothing to do with Hermione Granger and her two infamous companions.
"We can test your theory right now," Dumbledore interjected calmly, neither confirming nor refuting Grindelwald's view— perhaps because, unlike a true Seer, he lacked the gift of prophecy.
"Does the Sorting Hat serve a purpose in this?" Ian's gaze flicks toward the ancient hat. Since Dumbledore had brought it forth, the hat had remained motionless and silent.
Could the Sorting Hat be necessary to unravel the cycle?
"It's rely a safeguard, my boy," Dumbledore replied gently. "Whenever magic of this depth is summoned through a wand, one must employ other safeguards in case of misdirection."
Whether he ant misdirection from Arthur or from the architect of the loop himself, Salazar Slytherin was unclear.
However…
Though his words held logic, Ian couldn't shake the feeling that the old headmaster wasn't giving him the full picture—or rather, that he was deliberately omitting sothing.
It was a familiar sensation.
Ian himself was rather skilled in the art of half-truths.
(To Be Continued…)
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