It was only Albus Dumbledore who seed not to care much about legends. Thinking of this, Ian glanced toward a corner, worried that the Hogwarts headmaster, who hadn't been seen for days, might be hiding there.
Perhaps to minimize influence on the tiline, Ian and other professors hadn't seen Dumbledore for many days.
Heaven only knows he had mastered the "splitting spell" to create multiple bodies… If Dumbledore wanted to be unfindable, almost no one could break his Disillusionnt Charm.
"Establishing a feudal dynasty as well?" Ian had never heard of this way of stepping onto the path of legends before, and it made him recall so long-buried mories from past lives.
To Ian's question, Nicolas Flal didn't answer directly.
"Guess why every civilization, muggles, us, all have faith in gods?" He indirectly explained to Ian the destination of the path of legends.
Perhaps such views originated from the attempts of rlin's era.
"Learned sothing new today." Seeing Nicolas Flal about to start a dangerous experint, Ian imdiately packed up his things to leave the office.
Last ti he was late running out and got splashed with exploding black sand, then spent three hours acting like a baby. Once bitten, twice shy, he had to avoid risks in advance.
Sure enough, Nicolas Flal softly chanted ancient spells. As the spells echoed, the solvent inside the container rippled, as if resonating with the pulse of the deep cosmos.
He was beginning the final phase of refining the Sands of Ti. Although this alchemy Master probably knew the recipe, so steps and proportions still required repeated practice and refinent.
As the spells and ritual finished, the most dangerous step was about to co.
"Oh, professor," Ian stopped at the office door and looked up at the paintings hanging on the wall next to it.
They didn't move, but their colors were vivid and highly contrasting, full of visual impact.
"Can I borrow so of these Van Gogh paintings to study?" Yes, Ian had just recently learned that Nicolas Flal had once bought many of Van Gogh's paintings from the artist himself at a low price.
One could say Flal was quite the opportunist. Long life gives you plenty of chances to snap up bargains.
"You're not thinking of selling them for , are you? Though I have quite a few at ho, they're unique pieces. I was planning to take these paintings with into my... no, never mind, take them," Nicolas Flal paused his work, then suddenly changed his mind as if rembering sothing.
"I'm just borrowing them for a bit."
Ian felt that Nicolas Flal misunderstood him deeply.
"Really? You are just borrowing?" Nicolas Flal looked suspicious.
After all, he had personally seen Ian one night carrying that strange black Phoenix, coming to ask if the story about paying five million gold galleons to buy a Phoenix was true.
Would soone so obsessed with money really pass up a chance to get rich?
"You should have so faith in my copying skills," Ian said confidently. His words made Nicolas Flal pause for a mont before he figured out what Ian ant.
'Good grief! This little guy was actually thinking about selling fake paintings in the Muggle world! He had seriously overestimated the other's morals!'
"You…"
Nicolas Flal's Adam's apple bobbed twice, and in the end, he just waved his hand numbly, watching Ian happily carry away two genuine Van Gogh originals.
"Gū lū~ gū lū~ gū lū~"
After Ian left, Nicolas Flal poured out the refined black sand. After thoroughly removing any remaining solvent on the surface, he reversed his hand and poured it into a container enchanted with ritual magic.
Then a fierce reaction began.
The solution inside the container and the black sand started violently transforming. They fused and converted, eventually condensing into grains of Sands of Ti, shimring with interwoven gold and silver light. Each grain seed alive, dancing and weaving illusions within the liquid, visions of past, present, and future.
"It worked! I did it!"
Nicolas Flal jubilantly gestured with his hands and feet. He regretted not forcing Ian to stay; surely he could have shared this joy and sense of accomplishnt with soone.
"It's not like I only turned into a baby for a few hours... I also got beaten by him, and yet he's so scared," Nicolas Flal glanced at the enormous Marauder's Map hanging in his office.
The young wizard had rushed back to the Room of Requirent in just a few minutes, well, actually Nicolas Flal had obviously misunderstood the real reason Ian ran so fast.
He thought Ian was afraid of being caught in the explosion.
However,
That was only a minor factor. The main reason Ian hurried back to the Room of Requirent was because tonight was his own special Night.
"Finally, I can hand the Magic Mirror to Professor Morgan and ask her about all those doubts I have," Ian eagerly enjoyed the Dentor's foot massage service.
Then he quickly slipped into the bed he had prepared long ago in this room.
The soft bedding seed to swallow all fatigue and gently envelop him. As his consciousness faded, Ian truly saw the Professor Morgan he had longed for.
But!
"Holy crap! What am I dreaming tonight?"
Ian found himself hanging on a cross, candle wax dripping down from above like raindrops, exploding into patches of bright red plum blossoms on his body.
Professor Morgan, whom he thought about every day, stood before him, but this Morgan wore a witch's robe and held a whip. The barbs on the whip made Ian's heart tremble.
"Wake up!"
Fortunately, Ian had studied dream control.
Before the whip could strike, he suddenly woke up from the soft bed, returning from the dream to reality. The familiar surroundings made him breathe a big sigh of relief.
"What's going on? Why didn't I enter the Twilight Zone?" Ian rubbed his eyes in confusion, double-checking the date to make sure he hadn't made a mistake.
Just as he put down his hands,
"Hm?"
The contract mark on his wrist, the one from the black-robed skeleton, was flickering with a breathing-like rhythm of light and dark. At this mont, Ian seed to imdiately understand the strange cause of everything.
"Holy crap!"
He jumped up from the bed and dashed toward the black-robed skeleton that never needed to sleep or eat and forced the Dentor to play cards with him all night.
"What the hell is your damn contract doing?! Give back my access rights!" Ian tackled the much taller black-robed skeleton, straddling it and grabbing its neck while it looked confused.
"You must have smuggled and got blacklisted!"
Ian shook the skeleton's empty skull berserkly.
Its soul fire flickered wildly inside its head.
"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."
Who would've thought,
This skeleton could even scream in panic.
(End of Chapter)
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