But his words sent ripples through Ian's mind, each one deepening his sense of unease.
"You mean…"
Ian could already guess what Dumbledore was implying, but the thought was so staggering that he hesitated to say it aloud. It was even more bewildering than a time loop.
"Yes, child, it is precisely what you are thinking." Dumbledore's voice remained steady. "Professor Ronnie Ehrlich's condition is not unique to him. It is the condition of all of us at this very moment— except for you."
Ian felt the chill settle into his bones.
"Not only has he been reduced to a fragment of fate that has been severed, but everything you are experiencing now is merely another piece of fate that has been cut away."
"Of course, our circumstances differ from his," Dumbledore continued. "We exist as possibilities yet unrealized, while Ronnie Ehrlich embodies all the possibilities that have already been exhausted."
"He is the linchpin holding this entire… realm together. We do not yet fully understand the mechanisms of this magic, but one thing is clear: he is the key to your escape and your return to the proper course of time."
Dumbledore spoke with such calm certainty that it made the statement all the more unsettling.
"This is madness!"
Ian could hardly fathom magic that defied even the fundamental principles of existence itself. He raised his hand, staring at the rune on his skin.
"So I'm not actually caught in a time loop?"
Ian's confusion was met with a slow shake of Dumbledore's head.
"It is fate, and it is time."
"You will indeed experience time loops, but what you are experiencing is not the true past for you; it is merely those various possibilities that have not been anchored at the correct moment."
"There is a limit. From the Christmas you keep mentioning, today marks exactly forty-nine days. Our founder has gathered the unanchored fates that have not occurred within this span."
"So, to break the cycle, in my view, you need to allow time to flow correctly once more. Our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor believes we must still uncover the true way to destroy Professor Ronnie Ehrlich. Once we eliminate the core of this enchanted realm, it will naturally collapse."
Every word Albus Dumbledore spoke sent tremors through Ian's heart, yet he remained strangely composed, unlike what one might expect.
Grindelwald was the same.
It was unsettling to imagine how the two of them had stood in the underground chamber, calmly deliberating how to end everyone, including themselves. For if Ian shattered the cycle, everything here would cease to exist, and all the loops they had endured would fade as though they had never happened at all.
In the living world, they would continue to exist.
But here, they would all revert to what they truly were: fragments unanchored by fate, mere possibilities discarded by history.
"This is far more terrifying than simply tampering with time," Ian murmured. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I don't mean to doubt your judgment, but is there any chance that Salazar Slytherin has deceived you?"
Ian swallowed hard. In this life and the last, he had never encountered such an impossible predicament, nor had he ever faced such formidable figures as Grindelwald and Dumbledore.
"There is no mistake, child. The confirmation came precisely from what our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor saw in the corridor," Dumbledore said as he poured tea into three cups, steam curling in a delicate mist.
"I borrowed the principles of the Resurrection Stone and then harnessed the aid of the Patronus Charm," Ian admitted. At this point, there was no longer any reason to keep Grindelwald's secret.
Besides, the moment his Patronus Charm had reached maturity, concealment had become meaningless.
"Ian, I believe you possess talents and powers beyond our comprehension. However, even though I do not understand all of your secrets, I do understand the world I have lived in for over a century."
"The boundary between life and death is vast. Even if you used the Patronus Charm to summon a soul from beyond, to let it wander the corridor for so long, it should have been an immense strain."
"Your magical reserves are not yet strong enough to sustain it for that length of time," Dumbledore explained patiently, one of the few wizards who could so openly critique Ian's magical abilities.
"Is that what you call evidence?" Ian asked, realization dawning.
Sure enough.
"Precisely. Unless the place we are in is not truly the mortal realm, but rather something perilously close to the edge of death itself, only then would you be able to achieve this so effortlessly."
Dumbledore's tone was light, as though he had already come to terms with the revelation. His gaze rested briefly on the elder wood wand faintly visible within Ian's robes.
Ian understood instantly.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A warm, ethereal mist unfurled from the tip of his wand, silver threads coalescing in the air. At first, the shape was indistinct, no more than a shifting, spectral blur, its outline vaguely resembling a scarecrow.
But then—
As Ian poured more of his magic into it, the figure became clearer, its form and features sharpening with startling definition.
The air in the office grew still. Not a sound broke the silence.
Albus Dumbledore even held his breath, his usual composure slipping away; the light in his eyes burned with an intensity never seen before.
"How I wish this dream would never end."
His lips trembled, his voice carrying an unfamiliar fragility.
When he saw the figure before him— unchanged, untouched by time, exactly as he remembered, tears spilled freely down the old professor's face.
"Ian? Has it been two days over there? Is your Christmas still not over?" The girl opened her eyes, immediately recognizing Ian, who was still reeling from the revelations moments before.
"So, no present for me to unwrap?" She glanced around before her gaze fell upon Albus Dumbledore, who had risen to his feet, his lips parting in silence, unable to form words.
At first, her expression held only mild confusion. But then, she seemed to recognize the familiar features in the weary yet distinguished face before her.
"Albus? Is that you, brother?"
She drifted toward him.
Unexpectedly, the professor who had faced death itself without flinching instinctively stepped back, nearly stumbling over the wooden leg of a chair.
Fortunately, Ariana caught his arm before he could fall.
"Ari… Anna…"
His voice cracked as if disbelief had dried his throat. A trembling hand reached out, uncertain, toward Ariana's youthful face.
"It's me, Albus." Ariana lifted a hand to wipe away the tears streaking down his lined face, her fingers ghosting over the deep creases left by time.
"Albus, life must have been cruel to you." She embraced him, and the reproach he had long dreaded never came.
His body shuddered.
He hesitated, his hands hovering in the air, torn between the weight of guilt, regret, and the desperate yearning to hold his sister once more.
"You have spent a lifetime redeeming yourself, Professor," Ian spoke not as a judge, but as one who understood what Albus Dumbledore needed to hear in that moment.
"I must say," Dumbledore murmured, looking at Ian, "Compared to Slytherin, your magic is the true… miracle."
He could not begin to fathom the depths of the magic Ian had woven.
But in that instant— seeing Ariana again, knowing he could reach out and touch her, Dumbledore felt something stir within him. A fire, long buried beneath the weight of past mistakes, roared to life.
He understood now. Understood exactly what he must do.
"You must leave this place! Ian Prince, even if Salazar Slytherin himself seeks to ensnare you, I will see to it that you return to where you belong!"
"No one will stop this! Not even a legend a thousand years in the making!"
The old professor's voice, though still hoarse with emotion, rang with unshakable resolve.
(End Of This Chapter)
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