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Inside the Headmaster's office:
Under the dim, golden light, the magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, was perched by the window, dozing lightly. Its radiant tail feathers occasionally quivered, shedding a warm, mysterious glow.
White steam spiraled lazily upward from the fireplace, adding a dreamlike aura to the ancient, solemn chamber.
Ian stood before the desk, his head lowered as he stared at the book Dumbledore had placed in his hands. The dark brown leather cover gleamed faintly with embossed golden letters:
"The Dark Forces: Spell Transfigurations, by Tom Riddle."
Ian had absolutely never anticipated this development.
Truth be told, the moment he accepted the book, curiosity exploded in his heart. His mind raced with guesses about who could have written a book on dark forces and spell transfigurations.
Perhaps it was Grindelwald, the formidable and mysterious dark wizard whose research into forbidden magic was unmatched.
Or maybe it was Merlin, the ancient and powerful legendary wizard who might have left behind such an unconventional work. Ian wondered if it could have been his own teacher, Morgan.
After all, some strange twist of fate always seemed to entangle his destiny with Morgan's. Any of these figures could have produced groundbreaking research into the black arts.
Of course, the careful Ian did not forget to consider the old headmaster before him. This great white wizard, Dumbledore, had attained a level of mastery over the Dark Arts, ranking among the greatest in history.
Even if Ian had been given a hundred chances to guess, he never would have imagined that the name scrawled on the book Dumbledore handed him would be Voldemort, the name that should have been treated as utterly forbidden.
"This..."
Ian's voice caught in his throat. He lifted his head and stared at Dumbledore in disbelief.
"Professor… this isn't some kind of joke, is it? You didn't just stick Riddle's name onto one of your own works, did you?"
It was a ridiculous suspicion, yes. But, in light of Dumbledore keeping a book authored by Voldemort, such a thought suddenly seemed reasonable.
"An amusing notion. But April Fools' Day hasn't come yet."
Dumbledore smiled faintly, his blue eyes glimmering with sly amusement behind his crescent-moon glasses.
"..."
Ian's emotions stood in stark contrast. He was still reeling from this absurd reality.
"So... Riddle was actually living quite comfortably in the past, then?"
Ian couldn't be sure if Dumbledore had traveled back in time himself. Ian remembered Dumbledore saying that he would deal with the lingering Riddle of that past era.
This morning and again at noon, Ian had tried to sense the magical link he had once had with Riddle but found nothing--no sign that Riddle was still alive in this world.
Ian had assumed that Dumbledore had either killed him outright or left him imprisoned in the past to wither and die. He had even planned to check again once he reached the Twilight Zone.
Who could have expected that Riddle had actually managed to write a book?
"I suppose he has finally come to accept the name he once despised. Though, as you can see, he still omitted his middle name. Perhaps his ideals regarding pure blood and honor have simply shifted."
Dumbledore did not give a direct explanation. Instead, he lowered his gaze toward the book in Ian's hands, his unfathomable eyes fixed on the author's name.
"So Riddle finally realized that honor must be earned by one's own hands?"
Ian never thought his earlier words could have actually been taken to heart by the young Dark Lord.
His gaze dropped back to the book once more. He carefully inspected the texture of the parchment and the degree of oxidation in the ink. Clearly, the volume had weathered an extraordinarily long span of years.
It was not an object that had been carried directly from the past.
"Perhaps."
Dumbledore's tone was noncommittal.
He still spoke in that calm, even voice.
"I did take a short trip back. I found him hiding with extreme care, keeping a very low profile. During your journey together, it seems he encountered something that changed his nature."
"I observed him briefly. Then, upon returning to our time, I searched the Hogwarts archives and found this dusty old book."
"It seems that each of our crossings accelerates the arrival of certain influences from the past into our time." Dumbledore explained what he had done that morning and at midday, and the conclusion he had reached.
Of course, that wasn't what Ian cared about.
"You didn't capture him or finish him off?" Ian exaggeratedly drew a hand across his own throat, making the gesture unmistakable.
Seeing Ian's theatrics, Dumbledore couldn't help but shake his head with quiet amusement.
"Regrettably, I did not."
The reply was clean and straightforward.
Then he looked back at the boy, his eyes holding a complicated mixture of guilt and hesitation.
"Forgive me, child. Riddle's situation is unusual. So long as his influence remains controllable, I wish to observe him further."
Dumbledore did not dare meet Ian's eyes.
It was rare--extraordinarily rare--to see the old headmaster avert his gaze.
And whenever he did, Ian knew the reason why very well. For Dumbledore, only one kind of circumstance could prompt such a questionable choice.
"All right. I suppose it doesn't really affect me." As the master of the Paradox Servants, Ian had no reason to fear Riddle setting traps for him in the past.
As a Paradox Servant, Riddle could not do anything that would harm his master.
He could not even imagine it in his heart.
After all, a servant was not a complete, independent self.
"Let Riddle flutter around the past a while longer, then." Ian didn't press the issue. He understood perfectly well what Dumbledore sought; it was bound to come down to the one bond they shared:
Ariana.
He didn't need to think hard to see it. Ariana's state and Riddle's were painfully similar. For Dumbledore, Riddle's unexpected resurrection was the ideal experimental case.
The old headmaster had never abandoned his thoughts about things beyond the laws of nature. Ian had long since seen through him. But on this matter, he had no quarrel with him.
After all, if it were possible, didn't Ariana deserve a full life more than anyone?
The rules of nature exist only to be broken. Human progress has always been a battle against nature, whether through magic or science. Ian had always believed in this truth.
"Thank you, Ian."
Seeing no objection, Dumbledore let out a visible sigh of relief. Gratitude filled his eyes before he returned his focus to the matter at hand: the anomaly in Ian's magic.
"Now, the most important thing is to figure out what happened to your magic and if this change is a blessing or a curse."
Concern for Ian's health and safety was evident in the old headmaster's gaze.
After all, Ian was not only a Hogwarts student, he was also the only person who could communicate with Ariana. In both public and private matters, he carried a great deal of weight in Dumbledore's eyes.
Had this happened decades earlier, during that old entanglement, Grindelwald might have grabbed Ian by the throat and demanded a hundred times over, " "Will Dumbledore mourn for you?"
(To Be Continued…)