He had to uncover whether the skeleton posed a threat to him.
It was hardly surprising that Ian was so cautious, Salazar Slytherin himself had once taught him the bitter truth of betrayal. Who knew what hidden traps might lurk within this latest magical contract?
"If the agreement is linked to my Phoenix, then it shouldn't be harmful… should it?"
Ian shared a deep connection with the black Phoenix. He trusted that it wouldn't lead him astray; there had never been any tales of disloyal Phoenixes in wizarding history.
Phoenixes were, after all, renowned for their unwavering loyalty. Even if its feathers had turned black, Ian believed that such qualities wouldn't vanish with a change in appearance.
Still…
Watching the black Phoenix flap its wings before him and then let out that oddly eerie cackling noise filled Ian with no small amount of doubt.
"Squawk squawk~"
That screeching cry hardly sounded dignified. This Phoenix was clearly unlike any other, not just in appearance, but in nature. It had an ability no Phoenix should possess: the power to seize souls.
Upon returning to Hogwarts with both the black-robed skeleton and the black Phoenix, Ian had immediately laid down ground rules for the skeleton. Its movements were restricted strictly to the Room of Requirement.
Then he buried himself in the library, combing through every dusty tome and brittle scroll.
In those first few days, he had flipped through nearly every reference to Phoenixes housed in Hogwarts' ancient archives.
But still...
He found no record of any Phoenix possessing soul-based abilities, let alone one that devoured souls to restore its master's magical strength.
"Maybe… this isn't an innate power?" Ian muttered, brow furrowed with concern. The skeleton had repeatedly claimed that the black Phoenix was the result of biological alchemy, a soulless shell, created through arcane transfiguration and forbidden practices.
Yet, despite examining the Phoenix multiple times with every detection charm he knew, Ian couldn't find any signs of artificial crafting or tampering.
If anything, all evidence pointed to the Phoenix being… natural.
Or at least alive in the traditional magical sense.
Was it truly soul-resistant because it lacked a soul?
"Biological alchemy… I must be right." The black-robed skeleton was currently tormenting a Dementor, but it paused in its grim amusement long enough to address Ian's doubt.
The Dementor, clearly mistreated, looked completely disheartened. It had already resigned itself to servitude under a darkly enthusiastic young wizard, and now it had to endure a skeletal creature that insisted on poking its head into its hood on a daily basis.
This world...
Was there no peace left for a humble Dementor?
"I can't detect any signs of alchemy. Maybe… maybe my knowledge of magical transfiguration isn't advanced enough?" Ian offered, half to himself, half to the skeleton.
The black-robed skeleton, unimpressed, gestured dismissively and tapped its own skull.
Silence answered more clearly than words ever could, it spoke with complete certainty that it had no response for Ian's questions. The young wizard sighed, thinking that perhaps it was time he consulted Professor Nicolas Flamel about it.
Of course.
He also needed to bring up the matter of the black-robed skeleton and the peculiar contract tethered to it.
Nicolas Flamel, the most renowned alchemist of the age, alongside the greatest wizard Albus Dumbledore and the most formidable dark sorcerer Gellert Grindelwald, were all potential sources of guidance.
If not for the worry that Dumbledore or Grindelwald might seize the black-robed skeleton for themselves, taking away a servant far more efficient than even a Dementor, Ian would've gone to the two elder wizards well before the holiday had ended.
"You stay right here and don't wander about, I'm off to fetch some oranges," Ian instructed the black-robed skeleton yet again before bolting from the Room of Requirement.
Nicolas Flamel's office was easy enough to find now that he had granted Ian permission to visit freely, unlike the last alchemy professor, Arthur, whose elusive office might as well have been protected by an Unplottable Charm.
Standing before a door that could materialise anywhere and which most couldn't even perceive, Ian took a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking.
"Come in, little one."
Professor Flamel's aged voice carried through the door, clearly aware of who was on the other side. The door creaked open of its own accord.
Inside, the oval-shaped room stretched wide and tall, bathed in a warm golden glow from a suspended orb of light that mimicked the sun, keeping the chamber perpetually illuminated.
Not only that, but Ian could see fluffy clouds drifting lazily along the ceiling and what appeared to be real birds flitting through the air, the space was enchantingly transfigured to resemble a natural landscape.
Only the surrounding stone walls, the enchanted instruments scattered across the floor, and the tables laden with magical tools confirmed that this was, in fact, still indoors. Otherwise, it would've been easy to mistake the room for an enchanted clearing.
"Run into trouble with your alchemical studies?" Flamel didn't lift his head. He stood over a workbench, hands busy with a contraption so intricate it looked like a cousin of a Time-Turner, only more elaborate. Ian thought he recognised the fine silvery grains shifting within it, but his attention was swiftly drawn to another magical artefact resting on the long table nearby.
It was a globe.
Roughly the size of a Quaffle, but far more intriguing. As Ian approached, he noticed hundreds of tiny specks moving across its surface. Flamel, still absorbed in his work, nudged a magnifying lens toward Ian with a knowing smile.
Ian took the lens and peered in closely, his eyes widened with astonishment. The tiny specks weren't just dots. They were animals.
Of all kinds.
The oceans teemed with sea life, the skies bore flocks of birds, and the lands crawled with everything from lizards to lions. Magical creatures, too, pixies, puffskeins, and even what looked suspiciously like a kneazle.
"This is... incredible," Ian murmured, utterly entranced. His growing knowledge of alchemy allowed him to recognise just how extraordinary this creation was.
"It's not true life," Flamel replied with a note of regret. "It merely mimics it."
Clearly, the old alchemist mourned his inability to fully grasp what every alchemist ultimately pursued, true creation.
"But you've nearly captured the essence," Ian replied, still watching as a tribe of primitive humans danced around a fire near a miniature riverbank. "There are even people. They hunt, cook, raise children…"
"Imitation is still just imitation," Flamel said with a sigh.
He paused his tinkering, finally turning to face Ian. "This is your first visit to me directly. I assume something's troubling you?"
"Yes."
Ian hesitated. Beginning with a tale involving undead skeletons and a soul-siphoning black Phoenix felt a bit grim for a first approach. He opted instead to start with something less dark.
Clang, clang~
He emptied his satchel onto the table. A pile of gleaming magical stones clattered out, glittering in the bright light. Also tumbling free, quite ungracefully, was a startled Bowtruckle that Ian had instinctively stuffed into his pouch during his first encounter with the black-robed skeleton.
The creature immediately bristled and assumed a defensive posture.
But to Ian's surprise, Professor Flamel, who'd been moving like a stiff-backed statue until now, leapt to his feet with startling speed and gently moved the panicked Bowtruckle aside.
"By Merlin's beard! So many magic stones!"
His voice rang with disbelief.
"How many people did you rob to collect this haul, the entire European wizarding population?!"
Ian opened his mouth to explain but faltered.
"Uh…"
Flamel's eyes narrowed as he looked Ian over, clearly trying to gauge the boy's intentions, or sanity.
"Well… It's a long story…"
(End Of This Chapter)
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