There was no doubt about it, even Dumbledore in his youth could never have been this powerful.
"No! No! No! Don't come any closer! Stay back!"
The Death Eater stumbled backward, barely managing to steady himself. The color had completely drained from his face, leaving behind a deathly pallor and utter disbelief. He stared up at Ian, his eyes wide with the desperate madness of a cornered beast and the deepest kind of dread.
"Who... who are you?!"
His voice was hoarse and trembling. The arrogance and coldness from before were gone, replaced by a desperate attempt to sound threatening.
"Do you even know what you're doing?! You're interfering with the Dark Lord's affairs! You attacked one of his servants! He'll never let you get away with this!"
He tried to invoke Voldemort's name. It was the ultimate source of authority in the magical world, a name alone enough to make countless wizards tremble in fear. Naturally, this Death Eater, whose brain hadn't developed much beyond that of a terrified animal, hoped the name might at least make Ian hesitate.
Ian, of course, found the whole attempt amusing.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. The Dark Lord will never let me off the hook? Should I say I'm absolutely terrified?"
Ian finally turned around to face the Death Eater directly. His expression remained completely calm, like a bottomless frozen lake without a single ripple. The name "Voldemort" didn't even make him blink.
"Voldemort?" Ian said casually, as though discussing the weather. "Never heard of him."
Those four words were more devastating than any insult or mockery. In the British magical world of 1979, speaking the name of "He Who Must Not Be Named" so casually, with the clear implication of 'Who's that? Is he supposed to be important?', was the ultimate act of provocation and contempt.
The Death Eater's face flushed deep red with humiliation and anger, only to turn deathly pale again as fear reclaimed him.
This man didn't even care about his master's name!
"Arrogant!" he shrieked, desperately trying to cover his terror with rage. "You'll pay for your ignorance! The Dark Lord's power is beyond anything you can imagine! He is the greatest wizard alive! His fury will reduce you and everyone connected to you to ashes! If you let me go now, perhaps you can still, "
The truth was that his own reason was already telling him the person standing before him was stronger than Voldemort. But the Death Eater had nothing left except his loyalty and faith in Voldemort to cling to. It was like someone desperately holding on to the last shred of certainty they had left, if they let go, they would have to face a cruel, hopeless reality.
Human nature was always inclined to run from the truth.
"I'm telling you! The great Dark Lord, " The Death Eater tried to work himself up again.
"Annoying." Ian cut him off, his brow barely twitching.
Without any complicated movement, the young man simply raised his right hand, palm facing the Death Eater, and gently closed his fingers.
There was no flash of spell light, only a faint ripple of magical power.
The next moment,
"AAAHHHH!"
An irresistible and incomprehensible force descended upon the Death Eater. It wasn't physical pressure; it was something closer to a restriction imposed directly upon his very existence, as though a part of his being itself were being bound and stripped away.
The protective magic surrounding him shattered like paper. The magic inside his body froze like a river in winter, stopping completely. He tried to struggle. He tried to scream. But he couldn't make a sound, as if the very right to speak had been taken from him.
The Death Eater was completely pinned in place, unable to move a single finger. Only his eyes darted around in terror.
This was merely the most basic application of the Authority of the ''Foundation of Order'':
'Within this area, the target's magical power is frozen and their movements are completely restrained.'
'This man's power...'
Jorkins watched from the side, utterly horrified. He couldn't begin to understand how Ian had done it. No wand. No incantation. Not even an obvious surge of magic. Ian had simply raised his hand and closed his fist, and a vicious Death Eater who had been fighting Jorkins to a standstill moments ago was turned into a puppet capable of nothing but blinking.
What kind of absurd power was this?!
Ian paid no attention to Jorkins's shock as he began walking toward the immobilized Death Eater. His footsteps echoed clearly through the silence until he stopped directly in front of him, close enough to be face-to-face.
The Death Eater could see Ian's calm, emotionless eyes. They seemed to hold the birth and death of stars and the endless patterns of natural law. There was no hatred in them, no anger, only the detached scrutiny of someone examining a lab specimen, paired with the faintest impatience toward an annoying inconvenience.
"You're threatening me with Voldemort?" Ian's voice was quiet, but every word was perfectly clear. "Unfortunately, I have no particular interest in the internal disputes of your magical society."
He paused, his gaze drifting to a barely noticeable mark on the Death Eater's black robes. It resembled a small snake coiling around a skull, Voldemort's crest. The Death Eater had concealed it cleverly, but there was no way it could escape Ian's perception.
"However, since you attacked someone in front of me, endangered innocent people, and then tried to intimidate me with this so-called 'Dark Lord'..." Ian's tone remained calm, but the Death Eater felt the ambient temperature plunge. "...then you should probably leave behind a little souvenir. And while you're at it... take a message back with you."
Extreme terror erupted in the Death Eater's eyes. He wanted to shake his head. He wanted to beg. But he couldn't even twitch an eyebrow.
Ian raised his right index finger, and a tiny strand of dark green light began swirling around his fingertip. It was a trace of the ''Fire of the Old Ones'', highly condensed and tamed. Although the fragment was incredibly weak, the qualities of ''Erosion'' and ''High Status'' within it were extraordinarily potent. To a dark wizard with keen magical senses, it was no different from staring directly into the Abyss.
Ian gently touched the center of the Death Eater's forehead.
There was no pain, only a bone-deep cold that seemed to freeze the essence of his soul. The Death Eater felt as though his mind had been forcibly pried open. Fragmented images and pieces of information were brutally extracted: memories related to the current mission to hunt down Jorkins, along with vague details about several Death Eater gatherings and meeting locations.
At the same time, a cold, unquestionable ''mark'' was burned onto the outermost layer of his soul. It wasn't the Dark Mark, but an abstract, minimalist silhouette of a raven, radiating the same awe-inspiring, frigid sense of Order as Ian himself.
"Remember this presence." Ian withdrew his finger, and the strand of dark green light vanished. His tone remained as calm as ever. "And remember this mark. Go back and tell your master, along with all those other cowards hiding in the shadows..."
His voice dropped slightly, but every word carried a clarity and weight that seemed to penetrate the soul.
"My streets of London are not your hunting grounds to rampage through whenever you please. If I see you acting this recklessly in front of Muggles again..." Ian's gaze suddenly sharpened like a blade of ice. The Death Eater felt as though that single look had pierced straight through his soul. "...I won't mind paying this so-called 'greatest wizard' a personal visit."
The moment he finished speaking, the force restraining the Death Eater vanished.
The Death Eater collapsed to the ground as though every bone had been pulled from his body. He gasped for breath, cold sweat soaking through his clothes. He could feel his magic flowing again, but the cold Raven mark buried deep within his soul and the lingering chill in his forehead, capable of freezing his very thoughts, reminded him that everything had been real.
"You..."
The way he looked at Ian was filled with profound fear and awe. There wasn't a trace of viciousness or hatred left in him; he looked like a small animal facing a natural predator, completely submissive and trembling uncontrollably.
"I understand."
The Death Eater didn't dare utter another threat or try to save face. He struggled to his feet, practically crawling, not even bothering to pick up his fallen wand. Without looking back, he ran. He didn't dare Apparate again, stumbling toward the nearest alley on all fours and fleeing in utter humiliation before disappearing into the shadows.
Warm sunlight continued to shine over the spotless street. The Muggles carried on with their ordinary lives, walking around as though nothing had happened, with no idea what had just taken place. Only the faintest remnants of magic lingering in the air, along with Jorkins's heavy, frightened breathing, proved that something extraordinary had occurred here.
Ian turned around and looked at Jorkins. His expression had already returned to its original calmness, as though he had merely shooed away an annoying fly.
"Well then," he said, his voice slightly gentler this time, though Jorkins still shuddered. "You're Mr. Jorkins, one of Mr. Barty Crouch's subordinates, correct? I think we need to have a little talk."
Jorkins shuddered violently, his face turning even paler. Not only did this man know his name, but he even knew that his superior was Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
Who on earth was he?!
Still sitting in the middle of the restored London street beneath the warm sunlight, Mr. Jorkins's full name was Cedric Jorkins, not Bertha Jorkins, who was a different, rather unfortunate witch. Nor did he have any relation to the future Hogwarts champion Cedric Diggory; it was simply a coincidence.
His mind was completely overloaded, unable to process everything that had just happened.
"I... What would you like to discuss?"
Cedric Jorkins was a fourth-grade employee in the Magical Item Registration and Anomalous Energy Monitoring Office under the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He was in his early forties, with prematurely graying hair and a face marked by years of paperwork and late nights studying obscure reports. He was of average height and somewhat thin, wearing dark green robes that had clearly been used for years, with subtle signs of repair around the cuffs and collar.
He wasn't a combat wizard. In fact, his dueling ability had been fairly mediocre even during his time at Hogwarts. As a Ravenclaw, he had graduated with a focus on ancient magical texts and the classification of magical creatures. The fact that he had managed to hold his own even briefly against a vicious Death Eater was an impressive feat. Most of it came from his years in the monitoring office, where he had learned to identify dark magical artifacts, curses, and abnormal magical fluctuations, alongside a few basic emergency response techniques, plus the desperate instincts of a man backed into a corner.
Jorkins wasn't a major figure at the Ministry of Magic, but he was no nobody either.
"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," Jorkins said respectfully.
Part of his job involved tracking and recording international movements of magical items, particularly objects that might carry dark magic or pose unknown dangers. The work exposed him to plenty of information from the magical world's gray areas, teaching him to be extremely cautious and avoid trouble whenever possible. After all, in an era when Voldemort's influence was spreading and everyone lived in fear, knowing too much or standing out could easily invite disaster.
That was precisely why the Death Eater had been hunting him.
While sorting through a manifest of "antiques" imported from Eastern Europe, Jorkins had accidentally discovered a cleverly disguised item. Its magical signature was remarkably similar to a dark artifact he had documented years earlier, one connected to the early activities of the Death Eaters.
He had intended to quietly report it to his superior, Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, a man known for his strictness, efficiency, and deep hatred of dark magic. But somehow, word had leaked. Or perhaps the Death Eaters had always kept a close watch on the registration office.
Either way, Jorkins was quickly targeted.
That morning, after leaving the Ministry of Magic, he had planned to go to Diagon Alley to buy protective materials for his home. He was ambushed in a secluded alleyway. The Death Eater clearly wanted to take him alive to find out how much he knew and where the list was kept.
Using his familiarity with the area and a few emergency gadgets, Jorkins managed to slip away from the initial ambush, but the Death Eater stayed right on his heels. The two fought and chased each other through the streets until they were eventually forced to Apparate onto this Muggle street.
And then, everything that had just occurred unfolded.
Even now, Jorkins's heart pounded wildly from surviving the ordeal and witnessing Ian's terrifying power firsthand. He looked at the black-haired young man walking slowly toward him.
No, in Jorkins's eyes, Ian was no longer merely a young wizard. He was an unfathomably powerful entity, like an ancient Legendary wizard walking among mortals. The quiet composure on that youthful face made Jorkins's heart tremble. He was nervous, terrified, and acutely aware that Ian had identified him and named his superior without hesitation.
The overwhelming pressure made it almost impossible to breathe. He struggled to stand to show proper respect, but his weak legs refused to obey.
"Respected... My Lord..." Jorkins's voice was dry and trembling, thick with genuine awe. "Th-thank you for saving me... As you said, I... I really do work for the Department of International Magical Cooperation..."
He tried to emphasize his Ministry title, hoping it might offer at least a shred of security.
"Don't be so nervous." Ian stopped in front of him, looking down slightly. Sunlight streamed from behind Ian, casting his face partly into shadow and making him appear all the more mysterious and imposing.
"Mr. Jorkins, I only have a grievance against dark wizards," Ian said calmly, his tone unreadable. "So you can skip the formalities. I have a question, and I need you to answer it."
He looked down at Jorkins as he spoke. It was clear he genuinely had something to ask.
And indeed he did. Ian hadn't known much about the situation beforehand, but after reading the Death Eater's memories, he had uncovered something far more suspicious.
This whole incident... seemed to have been orchestrated by human hands.
(End Of This Chapter)
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