Truthfully, it wasn't that much of a risk.
"No child should be caught in the crossfire, Dumbledore," McGonagall sighed in warning, knowing she couldn't change the decision he had already made.
"I may not be a perfect headmaster, but I will ensure every student's safety," Dumbledore nodded in assurance. After opening and closing her mouth a few times, McGonagall shook her head and left the office.
Silence returned to the room.
Dumbledore remained standing alone by the window.
"Is it worth it?" He murmured softly, as if asking the portraits of past headmasters— or perhaps questioning himself.
No headmaster answered him.
Soon, Dumbledore lifted his head again, his eyes now firm with resolve.
"This isn't just about finding the hidden Horcruxes. It's also about finding a way to ensure that child survives."
Dumbledore's gaze drifted out the window.
By the Black Lake, there was another child.
She was practicing a charm she kept failing at. Aurora often trained by the Black Lake, something Dumbledore had long been aware of.
This time, however, the exceptionally talented young witch seemed to have hit a wall.
"It seems you could use some help… my apprentice." With a flash of phoenix fire, Dumbledore appeared behind Aurora.
Meanwhile…
Grindelwald's guidance was indeed invaluable.
Ian's [Fiendfyre Curse] proficiency skyrocketed as if riding a rocket. The teachings in 'Secrets of the Darkest Arts' paled in comparison to Grindelwald's hands-on instruction in the Room of Requirement.
After several hours of practice, Ian was already nearing the threshold of awakening an Extraordinary Trait for [Fiendfyre Curse]. If not for having gone two nights without sleep, he would've pulled an all-nighter to keep training.
"Another day of getting stronger."
Ian fell asleep contentedly in the Room of Requirement, waking up the next morning refreshed. His status screen, showing the leveled-up [Fiendfyre Curse], filled him with overwhelming confidence.
[Fiendfyre Curse (Lv.4) 728/800]
As Ian ate breakfast, feeling invincible, an enraged Snape stormed into the Great Hall and smacked him on the back of the head in front of everyone.
"What in Merlin's name did you do to Hogwarts' bathrooms?!" The Slytherin Head of House's voice was barely restrained fury.
"Waxed them. Wasn't that your order?" Rubbing his head, Ian quickly stood and put distance between himself and the seething Snape.
His defiant expression only further incensed the Potions master.
"I told you to wax the floors! Not the toilets!" Snape roared, chasing Ian around the hall, his robes— and backside— shining as greasily as his hair.
"I put my heart into it! Go wash your face in one— I even waxed the faucets!"
The nimble young wizard quickly outran the bat-like professor.
Youthful speed triumphed over middle-aged sluggishness.
While Ian won the race, he did forfeit any chance of attending Potions class that morning.
Forced to skip, he dove straight into the library, still seeking answers in alchemical texts.
At this hour, the library was nearly empty.
Madam Pince didn't guard against Ian as she did other students. She had been reading one of Lockhart's books and merely glanced up when he entered before returning to her reading— neither scolding him nor questioning his absence from class.
To her, this was simply Ian's normal behavior.
Ian headed straight for the Restricted Section, an area off-limits to most students, and resumed his research. His efforts had already led to a breakthrough.
[Ancient Alchemy (Lv.5) 1/1600]
Reaching Level 5 meant awakening an Extraordinary Trait— though [Transcendent Alchemy], as it was called, didn't help him crack the Resurrection Stone's secrets.
That didn't mean the trait was useless.
On the contrary, it was revolutionary— allowing Ian to craft alchemical artifacts that defied material limitations.
Not only would his creations become impossible to replicate, but he could now use incompatible materials to forge entirely new techniques.
"I've grown stronger again… but all I want is to extract what I need."
Piles of books surrounded Ian, though they only served to deepen his alchemical knowledge.
Perhaps Grindelwald had been right, even alchemists who once possessed Deathly Hallows seemingly couldn't "see" the runic structures he could.
Ian had found records of one such alchemist, but the man had merely marveled at the Hallows being "beyond mortal creation," spending the rest of his writings speculating on the existence of gods.
"Useless book! What good are you?!" Ian shoved the talking, boastful tome back onto the shelf, returning all the books he'd skimmed to their proper places.
Though he grumbled about wasting time, he still handled the library's contents with care, likely why Madam Pince trusted him so much.
By now, weeks into the term, she knew exactly which students needed monitoring… and which didn't.
"Searching for something unattainable again?" A voice suddenly teased from behind.
Turning, Ian saw Professor Arthur King, the enigmatic Alchemy instructor, standing by the shelves.
"Good morning, Professor." Ian clutched a potentially useful book, though he had no intention of seeking this man's advice.
Unlike Grindelwald, who knew what this professor might covet if he learned of the Deathly Hallows?
"If you have alchemy-related questions, I might have time to offer guidance." Professor King's eyes fell on the book in Ian's hands.
['The Laws of Life and Death: Forbidden Paths of Alchemy']
Faced with the professor's offer, Ian hesitated only briefly before shaking his head.
"I'm just browsing." He hugged the book tightly— it didn't talk, but it did try to escape, forcing him to grip it firmly.
"Such an unlikable boy. Don't come crying to me when you regret this." Clearly prideful himself, Professor King didn't press further. With a shrug, he turned and left the Restricted Section.
"Finally!" Back at his desk, Ian devoured the new book, though it yielded no breakthroughs.
However, it did contain extensive notes on bio-alchemy.
The book's origin traced to an ancient alchemist who, grieving his lost love, sought to resurrect her through alchemy.
He failed, instead creating a series of artificial cat-girls with her face and personality.
He spent his later years… distracted, dying without ever reuniting with his true beloved.
"Tsk tsk, terrifying. No wonder bio-alchemy is forbidden— it turns brilliant alchemists into furries."
Despite his complaints, Ian still gained valuable insights, furthering his proficiency.
Yet after scouring so many texts, he realized one thing: Whether in ancient or modern times, almost no alchemist had dared study the Deathly Hallows' creation.
Maybe they couldn't see the runes.
Or maybe they simply lacked the nerve.
"Do I really have to replicate them perfectly? Or test them section by section?"
Returning the books, Ian retreated to the Room of Requirement.
He pulled out his wand, ready to meticulously copy all the runes and refine his Resurrection Stone prototype.
But as he reached into his pouch for the stone's base…
"Hmm?"
A slip of paper fluttered out with it, landing on the floor.
When Ian bent to pick it up, he froze.
His scalp prickled.
On the paper was a fragment of the very runes he'd been obsessively studying— pulsing faintly, impossibly clear.
(End of Chapter)
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