Ian suspected as much. Flal had likely seen these writings as a final, unfinished chapter in his life's work, sothing he desperately wanted to resolve before his ti ran out.
The old master smiled faintly, but didn't comnt further.
"Do you know what era these co from?" Ian leaned forward, his renewed energy now fuelling his curiosity, as Flal placed the pages beneath a small, hovering orb of magical light.
Flal nodded, considering.
"They predate rlin. So of these scripts were still circulating during his lifeti, but they originate from long before. In fact, the fragnt I have ca directly from rlin's own manuscripts."
His answer didn't disappoint. Flal could indeed date the material with remarkable precision. But even so, Ian still couldn't use that to determine the true age of the tower he'd seen.
Truth be told,
Since returning to the present, Ian had pored through magical history texts, so so obscure they were more footnote than fact.
But,
The cataclysmic destruction he'd witnessed, whole nations swallowed by calamity, appeared nowhere. Not even in the most ancient volus of recorded wizarding history. As though it had been scrubbed from ti itself.
"Hmm… It must've been around rlin's era," Ian mused, recalling the tower's carvings. They depicted in vivid magical detail the series of events sparked by his… unorthodox senior sister.
Yet,
Without knowing precisely how long Professor Morgan had lived, Ian couldn't connect the dots between the tower's age and her lifeti.
Perhaps, next ti he entered the Twilight Zone, he could press Professor Morgan for more details. But as things stood, he'd only managed one trip there, and the cooldown between entries remained unchanged. His hope that a surge of Magic power might bypass the delay had proved false.
"There wasn't any inscription or na on the tomb you discovered?" Flal asked, a touch perplexed. "Anyone capable of burying that many Philosopher's Stones in a single grave must've left so mark on history."
His voice held genuine confusion, how could soone so powerful remain naless?
He didn't ask Ian where the tomb was, nor did he attempt to persuade Ian to take him there. Nicolas Flal understood the unspoken etiquette of the magical world, there were boundaries in such matters, and he knew better than to overstep.
In wizarding society, it's considered highly improper, even offensive, to intrude upon another's magical fortune or discoveries.
"Perhaps there is," Ian murmured, recalling the image of the hooded skeleton he'd encountered in the tower. But he was fairly certain that skeletal figure wasn't the tower's original master; it had seed more like a being bound or imprisoned there.
Yes, a being, more creature than spectre.
It wasn't so vengeful spirit, that much Ian had quickly realised after bringing it back from the Twilight Realm. The hooded skeleton possessed an eerie vitality, one even stronger than that of many living beings.
"Why the word 'perhaps'?" Nicolas Flal raised an eyebrow, puzzled by Ian's uncertainty.
"I found soone down there, chained up, but he claid to have no mory of who he was, so I doubt I'll uncover much from him," Ian replied honestly.
His answer left Nicolas Flal thoroughly stunned.
"Still alive? After thousands of years?" Flal's gaze instinctively returned to the pile of Philosopher's Stones. He must have assud the figure Ian encountered had survived through the power of those ancient stones.
"Well... alive might be the right word? I left him in the Room of Requirent. Perhaps you could have a look when you've ti? I didn't dare keep him with , nor could I bring him back here."
Ian retrieved his pouch to demonstrate, the enchanted bag clearly showing signs of frayed seams that had been hastily repaired with Spellotape and patchwork enchantnts.
He had, sowhat foolishly, attempted to stuff the hooded figure into the pouch. But the mont he pressed the skeleton's head in, the bag split down the middle. Had he not pulled it out in ti, the pouch, which had taken months of careful enchantnt to expand to over half the size of Hogwarts, would've been ruined entirely.
"You brought that kind of ancient thing back to school..." Nicolas Flal's throat went dry. The sensation was not unlike what many Hogwarts professors must feel on a daily basis when dealing with Ian.
How is this boy not in Gryffindor?
"This is actually one of the reasons I sought you out." Ian seized the opportunity, rolled up his sleeve, and revealed the peculiar magical inscription etched into the skin of his forearm, part of the oath that bound him within the Twilight Realm.
"This…"
Nicolas Flal leaned forward for a better look. The mont his eyes landed on the markings, his expression shifted. These weren't just any magical texts. The inscription differed entirely from the ancient scripts Ian had brought him before, and Flal instinctively shielded his eyes with one hand while grasping Ian's arm with the other.
Though his grip was firm, it lacked strength, age had sapped his physical prowess long ago. Still, his reaction betrayed the depth of his concern.
"It seems to be a kind of magical oath, similar to an Unbreakable Vow," he said at last, voice raspy with awe. "But it's more intricate… far more potent, binding, and woven with a magic older than even most of our recorded rites."
He continued to examine the glowing script. "I've seen sothing like this… in ancient accounts of forgotten priesthoods, whose mbers bore such markings. But yours is, "
Nicolas Flal abruptly stopped, his mouth hanging open slightly. His eyes flickered with a troubled light. Both his withered hands remained clamped on Ian's arm, unmoving.
"A kind of what?" Ian prompted, glancing at the clock as the silence stretched past ten minutes.
Nick gave no answer.
Instead, he gently ran a bony finger along the edge of the inscription. Eventually, he sighed, released Ian's arm, and gave a sheepish smile, scratching his head in a surprisingly youthful gesture.
"Nothing. I suppose I don't really know either," He admitted.
"Eh?"
Ian blinked in disbelief. After all that, this was the best Nicolas Flal could offer?
He cast a suspicious glance at Flal's head, half-expecting it to taper into a cone shape. Had the great alchemist suddenly turned senile?
"Don't look at like that," Flal said with a helpless shrug. "I'm only human, you know, just one who's lived a very long ti. I dare say Albus would've figured it out in a mont, but ? I'm not quite so clever."
That much, at least, was fair.
"Well, could you still help study it?" Ian asked, producing a separate piece of parchnt with a copied version of the inscription.
"Of course, though I don't need that." Flal waved the parchnt away, a faint trace of offence in his voice.
"Are you doubting the mory of an alchemist?" HHe teased, clearly aning to say he'd already morised the marking down to its final rune.
"No, no, never!" Ian hastily tucked the parchnt back into his robes, though a flicker of doubt may have lingered in his expression. After all, Flal was over six centuries old…
"Don't worry, I understand your concern. From what I've seen, this oath doesn't harm you. Quite the opposite, in fact, it recognises you as the dominant party."
Nicolas Flal looked at him aningfully, his faded eyes glinting. Then, with a sideways glance at the enchanted clock on the wall, sothing seed to occur to him, sothing that would, in turn, jog Ian's own mory.
"I also found this."
To help Nicholas Flal better determine the era of the tower, Ian retrieved the enormous enchanted clock he had brought back with him.
The massive tipiece, larger than several Ians put together, looked positively ancient. When he set it on the floor, it gave a dull, echoing thud. The dial, conspicuously missing its hands, bore the marks of ti and tempest alike, its surface weathered and worn.
"rlin's beard…" Nicholas Flal was, once again, completely dumbfounded.
'What was going on lately? Why did this student keep dragging bizarre, broken ti-related contraptions to him? And not just any, they were all ancient magical constructs! Hadn't the Departnt of Mysteries supposedly destroyed every last original Ti-Turner centuries ago?
Where in rlin's na had this colossal artifact co from?! Flal leaned in, running his fingers over the faded runes inscribed on its surface. The alchemical symbols were unmistakably of the sa structure as the magical glyphs Ian had brought from the tower earlier. He exhaled heavily.
(To Be Continued…)
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