Voldemort's scheming paled next to true power.
"Ravenclaw was right— what a pathetic Dark Lord, resorting to thug tactics." Ian headed to the library, determined to research the Resurrection Stone.
Yet among the vast shelves, books on the Deathly Hallows were scarce.
Though familiar with the library, Ian rarely studied deity legends like the Death God's lore.
Throughout the entire wizarding world, across all ages, even among the most exceptional wizards, very few have mentioned anything related to the Death God in their writings.
After spending an entire noon searching through books, Ian found nothing but sensational stories with dramatic plots— no clues about the Resurrection Stone or how it was made.
"I'm sick of reading about the Tale of the Three Brothers!" After going through over a dozen different versions of the story, Ian had no choice but to temporarily give up his research and head to class.
The afternoon class was uneventful, except for Professor McGonagall leaving in a hurry after the lesson. Everything else was as ordinary as any other day.
After dinner, Ian first went to the Room of Requirement to adjust the potions he was refining, then put on that cursed outfit again to complete the task Snape had assigned just to torment him.
Most of the students had already returned to their common rooms, so there was no risk of awkward encounters. Notably, in the abandoned girls' bathroom on the second floor, Ian didn't get a chance to explain himself to Myrtle, the ghost immediately fled into a toilet the moment she saw him enter.
"I'm not who you think I am!" Ian knew Myrtle had heard him speak Parseltongue and had formed some prejudiced misconceptions about him. But before he could even speak, Myrtle had already vanished into the plumbing.
"I guess I'm taking the blame for Tom? Round it off, and it counts as him framing me— so he should rightfully become fuel for my training."
Ian finished his "detention" with over half a bucket of wax left. He had been frugal with it, intending to pocket the remaining materials for himself.
With a bit of extraction, the substances in this wax were quite valuable. Only someone as wealthy as Snape would waste them just to prevent Ian from slacking off.
"If only I could be that extravagant. Ah, if those bricks in the underground chamber were really gold, I could fulfill my dream of bathing in Felix Felicis," Ian mused. For now, he had to settle for soaking in the free hot springs.
"Hmm?"
Ian tried to open the Room of Requirement as usual, only to find it didn't appear. After a couple of attempts, he realized someone else was using it.
"Who could it be?"
Ian had only shared the room with Aurora. Was she secretly brewing Veritaserum inside? Just as he was about to ask the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy (who had been beaten by a troll),
"Whoosh—!"
The door appeared, followed by the sound of a flushing toilet. The next moment, just as Ian was baffled by the idea of someone using the Room of Requirement as a restroom, the door opened from inside.
"Ah?"
The person who stepped out wasn't who Ian expected. He had assumed it would be Aurora— or even Dumbledore.
"Am I occupying your room? It seems this place can't accommodate two people at once," Grindelwald, who had just walked out, said as he applied something like hand cream.
"You used the Room of Requirement as a toilet?" Ian stared at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, surprised that someone who had only arrived this term knew about the room.
"You must understand, child— older people have their needs," Grindelwald replied humorously, glancing back at the vanishing walls with admiration.
"This school truly holds more secrets than I imagined." Clearly, Durmstrang, where Grindelwald had studied, didn't have anything like the Room of Requirement.
"It's impressive that you found it," Ian said, genuinely amazed. Even most of Hogwarts' Heads of Houses rarely knew about this hidden Hufflepuff sanctuary.
"Perhaps I just need frequent bathroom breaks, but I'm not so old that my eyes fail me. I've noticed you coming in and out often."
Grindelwald's reply left Ian puzzled. He rushed to the railing and looked down, but the Defense Against the Dark Arts office wasn't positioned to see this spot.
"I have a crystal ball," Grindelwald stepped forward to explain.
"…"
Ian gave the old man (currently wearing Lockhart's face) a deadpan look. He had thought Grindelwald was some kind of Hogwarts spymaster, but the man had openly admitted to spying.
"I'll call you the 'Shadow Wizard,'" Ian said, recalling a character from 'The Bloodline Chronicles' who had a similar habit of peeping.
"Aurora said you often say incomprehensible things. Tsk tsk, so it's true." Grindelwald flicked his wrist and made to leave.
"Wait, Professor." After a moment's hesitation, Ian stopped him.
"Are you asking about the 'Daily Prophet'? Don't worry, it'll resume publication soon. I just sent someone to… train them on proper professionalism." Grindelwald raised an eyebrow, pausing.
"Can you get them to publish my work?" That wasn't why Ian had stopped him, but Grindelwald's response gave him an opening to pull out an article.
['On the Importance of Health Potions']
This was a masterpiece Ian had written in his spare time, part of his future business plan for Diagon Alley.
But he hadn't found the right opportunity to promote it yet.
"I wouldn't call this nonsense a 'work'…" Grindelwald skimmed through it, his expression growing increasingly odd.
Still, he didn't refuse Ian's request.
"Some wizards will believe it— that's enough," Ian said. He actually had another draft, ['On Traditional Potions and Their Influence on Squib Rates'], but hadn't finished it yet.
"I'll help you. I do enjoy aiding young wizards." Grindelwald pocketed the parchment without questioning Ian's motives.
"If you could also teach me about the runes on the Resurrection Stone, I'd thank you in my dreams." Ian quickly pulled out the runes he'd copied from the stone.
If there was anyone he could discuss the Resurrection Stone with, it was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who had led him to it.
"Who helped you decipher these?" Grindelwald examined the runes spread across multiple parchments, surprised.
"Me, of course!" Ian answered confidently. The Grey Lady had only pointed him in the right direction— the rest was his own hard work.
"Tsk tsk. I told you not to use it, yet you're studying how it was made… You do have talent in alchemy, but this is dangerous research." Grindelwald gave Ian a deep look.
"I just love learning. Any alchemist would be tempted by the Deathly Hallows," Ian said, unable to reveal his true intentions.
Grindelwald didn't seem suspicious.
"All great achievements stem from extraordinary curiosity and persistence," Grindelwald said, approving of Ian's boldness, though his expression turned regretful.
"I admire your thirst for knowledge, but I can't assist you here— for now." Grindelwald's eyes grew distant. "I, too, once sought the secrets beyond the Deathly Hallows. Back then, I even possessed another Hallow."
He was clearly referring to the Elder Wand.
Ian had seen it in Dumbledore's memories.
(To Be Continued…)
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