Seeing the two of them working together so peacefully still struck him as utterly surreal.
"Here. This is the Eye of Horus," Grindelwald said at last, pointing to a corner of the elaborate pattern, where an eye-like symbol lay hidden within the design.
"The Eye of Horus?" Ian's curiosity deepened. "Isn't that an element of ancient alchemy? It holds significant symbolic meaning in history."
His knowledge of the subject was limited. What little he knew came from the teachings of Morgan le Fay, yet the Eye of Horus belonged to an era even older than hers.
The Eye of Horus, also called the Eye of Udjat, was said to belong to the falcon-headed god Horus, a symbol of divine protection, supreme authority, and restoration. It was associated with healing, rebirth, and safeguarding, its magic distinct from the wizarding traditions of Europe.
"This is an exceptionally ancient form of magic," Grindelwald murmured. "Traditionally, it may serve as the foundation of Professor Ronnie Ehrlich's resurrection."
Indeed.
The ancient Egyptians believed the Eye of Horus played a role in resurrection and rebirth. In the wizarding world, it had long been used in rituals by those who sought immortality or a return from the dead.
"Does this actually work?" Ian asked skeptically. He had dabbled in this aspect of alchemical theory, but he had never considered that the Eye of Horus might 'actually' function as intended.
He had always assumed it was just another legend among the many failed attempts at resurrection. After all, wizards and Muggles alike had long dreamt of conquering death.
And yet—
For all their efforts—
No one had ever truly succeeded.
"The evidence is right in front of us," Dumbledore said quietly, turning his gaze to Ronnie Ehrlich himself. He had already examined the professor's body and the process of his death.
"Why didn't Voldemort consider this method?" Ian mused aloud, curiosity piqued. If such a ritual truly worked, Tom Riddle would never have overlooked the opportunity to study and exploit it.
"This kind of magic has not been fully preserved," Albus Dumbledore replied, his voice measured. "Moreover, even I believe it has never truly succeeded. The rare instances in history where people were 'revived' amounted to nothing more than reanimated corpses, devoid of true life." He paused, his blue eyes glinting behind his half-moon spectacles. "Riddle never sought to become a mere walking husk."
Ian considered this. Perhaps Voldemort, with his serpentine visage and lack of a nose, never placed much faith in foreign magical practices. More likely, the absence of proven successes had discouraged him; otherwise, Riddle would have torn the world apart in search of it.
"You're also overlooking the most crucial point, Albus." Grindelwald shifted his gaze toward Ian, a faint, knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Some magic requires a certain… qualification to wield. Even if you handed Riddle this ritual on a silver platter, he would never have possessed the ability to make it succeed."
His tone was laced with both amusement and disdain for the Dark Lord.
As he spoke, he gestured toward a section of the intricate markings on Ronnie Ehrlich's back. "Here, Albus. This is the key. And… one of the very pieces of evidence that validates your previous theory."
"It signifies the interception of fate…"
Grindelwald trailed off as Dumbledore lifted a hand, silencing him.
Then, the old headmaster turned to Ian, his expression unreadable.
"Mr. Prince," Dumbledore said, his voice firm yet kind, "I must ask you to wait for me in my office."
Ian blinked.
"What? Why?"
He had a growing sense that whatever was happening here was directly linked to his own predicament. Leaving now felt like being dismissed from his own mystery. His gaze flickered between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, searching for an answer.
"I will explain everything to you shortly," Dumbledore assured him. "But trust me, what happens next is not something a young wizard should witness." A pause. "It could be… unsettling."
"Unsettling?" Ian echoed incredulously.
From his position on the floor, Ronnie Ehrlich let out a snort.
"He can cast the Killing Curse in his first year— nonverbally, no less and you're worried about his mental state?" The professor scoffed, shaking his head. His voice dripped with exasperation.
Ian grimaced.
It wasn't as if he went around throwing the Killing Curse at people like a common duelist, well, not all the time.
"That's besides this matter," Dumbledore continued smoothly, as though he hadn't heard Ronnie Ehrlich, "I believe you and I have another conversation to hold. My office would be the most suitable place for it. And if you wouldn't mind, perhaps you could assist in tidying up the room while you wait?"
Ian sighed, recognizing the finality in Dumbledore's tone. There was no arguing with him when he got like this. With obvious reluctance, he turned and made his way toward the staircase.
By the time he reached the corridor outside the underground chamber, he was fairly certain he had burned off at least a pound from all this running around Hogwarts.
As Ian disappeared into the shadows of the passage, Grindelwald finally spoke again, addressing Dumbledore with a tone that was unusually sincere.
"You needn't worry, Albus," He said softly. "I won't harm them."
Dumbledore, watching Ian's retreating form, exhaled lightly.
"Perhaps not," He conceded, "But given your rather… strong reaction earlier, I prefer to be cautious."
A small, almost imperceptible smile curled at the corner of Grindelwald's lips.
"You see him as a future worth cherishing, Albus. I see him as something far greater." His voice was solemn. "He is a promise. And unlike you, I am more than willing to sacrifice everything for that promise."
Dumbledore did not answer immediately.
"So, I was right, sir." Lying on the cold stone floor, Ronnie Ehrlich finally saw his suspicions confirmed through the conversation unfolding before him.
"That young wizard was the reason you brought me here." A look of clarity settled on his face, his voice carrying a strange sense of relief.
"Ronnie," Grindelwald spoke softly, his words laced with something akin to sorrow. "Albus and I will not truly die. But you will. Or rather, you already have."
"It doesn't matter, sir. Now that I know the truth, it was worth it." Ronnie Ehrlich let out a quiet chuckle, casting another glance between Grindelwald and Dumbledore.
"For the greater good."
His words were steady, unwavering.
Not a trace of fear.
"You've already tried to kill him once, haven't you?" Dumbledore's piercing blue gaze fell upon Grindelwald, picking up on what had gone unspoken.
Somewhere between his and Ian's arrival, blood had already been spilled in this place.
"Just as Ronnie said, Albus, this was necessary," Grindelwald sighed, rising to his feet. "If that young wizard is to return to where he belongs, to fulfill the role that fate has carved out for him, then we must ensure it."
Dumbledore regarded him with a deep frown.
"This is the game your founders set in motion. You can hardly blame me," Grindelwald continued, gesturing toward the towering stone effigy behind them. "You, me, Ronnie, and Ian, all of us were drawn into this by that man."
His gaze lingered on the statue, its imposing features bathed in a spectral glow.
"That is an apt way to put it," Dumbledore admitted.
The two wizards studied the ancient figure, its expression eerily contemplative as if the very stone harbored secrets of its own. Whatever purpose the founders had intended for this labyrinth, its true nature remained elusive.
But one thing was certain, whoever had orchestrated such a test, Salazar Slytherin had been no ordinary wizard.
"It calls to mind the questions I had surrounding Ronnie's death," Murmured the Dark Arts professor, his robes shifting slightly in the underground draft.
He turned away from the statue, something sharp and knowing in his expression.
(To Be Continued…)
You can read ahead up to 110 chapters on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/darkshadow6395