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The dormitory, after rlin's frantic cleaning, no longer carried any foul stench.
Even so, Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flal still did not dare step closer. Having personally witnessed the grotesque spectacle only monts before, both n carried with them a lingering, almost instinctive aversion.
"What do you make of this kind of fighting, Albus?" Nicolas Flal's voice finally broke the silence, low and steady, colored by the faintest trace of his French accent.
"Do you want the honest truth?" Dumbledore did not respond at once. He exhaled softly, eyes still fixed on Ian, the boy stood frad in the doorway, an unreadable figure in the dim light.
"It is… difficult to judge, Nicolas."
"Ian's way of fighting… it has far exceeded my expectations. His magic isn't rely powerful; it's unpredictable. And his thoughts run on paths far removed from ordinary n's. One might even say that his very existence is an anomaly."
Dumbledore's words were not simply a roundabout assessnt of Ian's bizarre handling of rlin.
He had seen enough to glimpse the underlying truth.
Behind Ian's seemingly ridiculous tactics lurked a depth of magical force few wizards could even begin to imagine.
And in matters of perception, Nicolas Flal was by no ans lacking.
"You're not wrong, Albus." Flal inclined his head faintly, though his brow furrowed. "Yes… His magic reminds of the oldest tales, of alchemy at its most primal."
"His transfiguration has already surpassed the boundaries scholars have laid down. It reaches into realms even we never dared conceive." His words grew quieter, tinged with uncertainty.
A man who had lived more than six centuries could not be easily unsettled. Yet still, he sensed sothing else.
"He holds a peculiar kind of sway over rlin. Not just compelling him into that revolting display… It's as though rlin harbors so strange attachnt to him."
Flal's gaze darkened. "And it is precisely that attachnt… that drove rlin to…" He did not finish, yet Dumbledore required no explanation.
The reason rlin had held back for two thousand years was not born of a fleeting encounter. Such absurd devotion had deeper roots.
On this point, Dumbledore silently agreed.
Still, he chose not to pursue the thought further. His head inclined, his eyes catching a subtle, complicated light.
"No matter what he becos, Ian is still just a child…" His voice carried both weariness and an odd tolerance. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, Dumbledore had always been unyielding when it ca to protecting his students.
And with Ian, that tendency was only sharpened.
There was no helping it.
Because Ian carried with him… a certain weakness of Dumbledore's very own.
To this, Nicolas Flal saw nothing amiss, and even gave a small nod of approval.
"He may very well be the most gifted student in the entire history of Hogwarts."
"He's still young. A few outrageous acts are inevitable. Besides… such talent and creativity, those may be precisely the traits needed to beco a truly great alchemist."
Flal's smile was faint, but his voice carried unfeigned fondness for Ian. There was no denying it, brilliance drew admiration. Even if Ian's magic skirted the edge of the unthinkable, that sa originality was what set him apart.
And for a man like Flal, that spark was all too easy to forgive.
After all, Was this not every alchemist's dream? The ultimate fantasy, embodied?
…
While the two ancient wizards lingered in conversation, Ian stood a short distance away, face-to-face with rlin. He flicked his wand absently against his palm, muttering under his breath,
"I can't believe I never noticed you were just an ancient fossil."
rlin rolled his eyes skyward.
He very nearly snapped back to ask who the real fossil was in this exchange, but thought better of it in silence.
"My Confundus Charm couldn't affect you. You should have realized sothing much earlier." His tone was cool, almost mocking, words carrying the sting of a deliberate jab at Ian's intelligence.
The young wizard only rolled his eyes again.
"Guess my imagination wasn't large enough. I never thought a wizard could actually survive that many centuries."
He raised his wand, and with a languid flick, silver brilliance spilled into the air. Threads of light twisted and curled, weaving themselves into floating letters:
N – I – L – R – E – M
The shimring characters quivered in midair. Ian gave another flick, and the letters rearranged.
M – E – R – L – I – N
The true na revealed though there were so words missing and the aning was forced.
"This little scrambling trick is really adorable. Honestly, you're the original Voldemort." Ian muttered, lips tugged into a smirk at the familiar anagram ga.
"Heh."
rlin chuckled faintly, though his eyes lingered on Ian with sothing stranger, like a thought left half-spoken, hovering but never quite voiced.
"What will it take for you to remove the plague you've seeded in my body?" His tone hardened at last. Whatever else could be left unsaid, this mattered above all.
The past was too bitter to revisit. He could not, would not, beco that walking pestilence again. Even now, the mory of his forr tornt made his hands shake as he cast purification spell after purification spell.
And yet, He could already feel it. None of them worked.
"Archmage," Ian's voice cut clear and sharp, his expression calm, almost casual. "Promise one thing, and I'll let this matter drop. Then you won't have to worry about cauliflower sprouting all over your body."
rlin froze. His brow furrowed, suspicion flickering to life behind his eyes.
"What thing?" he asked at last, his voice low and asured, rimd with wariness.
Ian held his gaze unflinchingly. He knew rlin's suspicion wasn't born solely from their encounter two millennia ago. No, deep within, rlin harbored another fear. That Ian might in so way be connected to the shadowed figure whispered of in legend… the Raven.
And that was precisely the enigma Ian now sought to unravel.
"I want to know everything you know… about the Raven."
He enunciated each word slowly, his stare fastened upon rlin, a quiet certainty pounding in his chest. Intuition told him, The truth about the Raven was the key. The cornerstone to understanding himself.
"…I see."
At first, rlin looked taken aback. But gradually, his tense expression eased, and he exhaled a long breath. When he looked back at Ian, there was sothing almost thoughtful in his gaze.
"So… it seems you truly don't know anything."
rlin's tone softened into pensiveness and just as Ian opened his mouth to press further--
"Very well. Let us make a contract."
The words landed like a dropped stone. rlin's face remained wary, and though his voice was deliberate, it carried the wary edge of one who rembered far too well the price of past bargains.
"Hm? Really now, everyone in Hogwarts knows I'm a man of honor." Ian raised a brow, half-exasperated. "Even that you don't trust? I'm not the type who goes back on his word."
He had the distinct impression rlin had thoroughly misjudged his character.
rlin's only answer was a dry, humorless chuckle.
"Last ti… it was I who was tricked into a contract. Not you."
Ian sighed aloud, raking a hand down his face. Wonderful. As if it wasn't enough that he obsessed over terms and clauses, now he had to contend with soone even more fixated.
"Mhm."
rlin's mouth curved faintly, though his eyes never lost that guarded sharpness. Without a gesture of spellcraft, he instead retrieved a tiworn sheet of parchnt from within his robes. Through practiced precision, he began to inscribe terms upon it in the Most Ancient style.
ticulous did not begin to describe it.
Every condition was inked with painstaking care. rlin scrutinized each clause, asured every syllable like a man hunting for hidden snares. Once done, he reviewed the parchnt again and again, combing it as though determined to leave Ian no crevice to exploit.
"…."
Ian wasn't guilty. Truly.
Yet, watching rlin hunch over the parchnt with such suspicion, he couldn't shake the eerie sensation of being accused of so invisible cri. As though an unseen hand had closed around his throat.
"You really are paranoid," he muttered under his breath, baffled at what sort of monstrous image rlin carried of him.
rlin gave no reply. Only once he had exhaustively checked each line did he finally nod in satisfaction and extend the parchnt forward. Ian read it through, confird it was airtight, then scrawled his na across the bottom.
At once, the weight of it bound to him, a force that felt almost divine. Ancient magic coiled tight around his being. Such contracts no longer road this era; their craft had vanished with ti.
"Interesting…" Ian murmured softly, flexing his hand as he felt the unseen tether press into his soul.
Then his tone sharpened with mocking reproach.
"You really ought to learn generosity from . Here I am, willing to heal you first and only charge later. And yet, you still doubt my honor? What a sad lack of trust."
He smirked, gave his wand a sharp flick, and power stirred.
(To Be Continued…)
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