After leaving Nicolas Flamel's office, the sky had darkened.
Ian walked through a long, empty corridor, his feet gliding over the smooth, mirror-like marble floor polished by the passage of time. On either side of the corridor, tall candle holders flickered with magically ignited flames, casting a warm, dim light that intertwined with the cool moonlight outside, creating a tapestry of light and shadow.
As the temperature dropped, the students returning from their holiday and ending a long day of heavy study huddled together in front of the fireplace in the common room for warmth.
Even the number of students who usually ventured out at night had significantly decreased. Although there were various heating products available in the campus market, those little gadgets ultimately struggled to provide true warmth.
"Those sands really are sands of time," Ian rubbed his hands together, exhaling a large puff of white mist. His reflection appeared vaguely on the window beside him. A thin layer of frost had quietly formed on the windowpane, resembling delicate ice flowers that obscured the view outside.
The moonlight filtered through the frost, becoming softer and more mysterious. The presence of the frost not only added to the night's tranquility and chill but also made the corridor seem even more enigmatic.
"Perhaps what Professor Nicolas Flamel said is not wrong. A civilization capable of manipulating and utilizing time would certainly leave some traces in the long river of history." Ian stood in front of the window, where the temperature was significantly lower than inside, still processing the information he had received from Nicolas Flamel.
Although Nicolas Flamel had assured him that the dark-robed skeleton and his contract would not pose any harm to him, Ian was still eager to find clues about the dark-robed skeleton and the civilization that had sunk into the Twilight Zone, one could say it was curiosity, but it also stemmed from self-interest.
If he couldn't figure out why that civilization had perished, it would pose a considerable risk for Ian, especially since the dark-robed skeleton was now in a state of following him closely.
God knows whether the entity that caused the downfall of that civilization would notice that the dark-robed skeleton had reappeared in the world. The catastrophe that could plunge an entire civilization into the realm of the dead would certainly not be merely a natural disaster.
Ian couldn't share all the information with Nicolas Flamel, and for that reason, Nicolas Flamel clearly wouldn't know why the civilization related to the dark-robed skeleton had been destroyed.
"Playing with time, thus facing the retribution of time?" Perhaps Nicolas Flamel thought this way, but Ian felt differently; after all, he had witnessed the entire civilization's downfall in the Twilight Zone.
It was not merely a physical destruction; the entire civilization had been "cast" into the Twilight Zone. The "punishment" involved was certainly not just a backlash of time rules.
It undoubtedly contained the hand of some will, if this speculation was correct, Ian's act of "harboring" the dark-robed skeleton would certainly carry a significant degree of risk.
"Sigh, why do all these messes keep sticking to me? Isn't this just another form of misfortune?" Ian drew a series of question marks on the window with his finger.
He glanced at the clock hanging in the corridor and felt it was almost time for him to start his small class, so he collected his thoughts and turned to walk toward the staircase.
Nicolas Flamel's office was in the castle's hall, and to return to the Ravenclaw common room, he had to climb the stairs. As Ian reached the staircase, the spiral staircase was in the midst of changing.
There was no choice.
Ian could only stand at the foot of the stairs and wait.
He took the opportunity to observe the castle he lived in, with its exquisitely carved stone pillars surrounding the small hall, and the soft magical light cascading from the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
The night at Hogwarts had a unique charm before the lights went out. The air was filled with a faint scent of lavender and potions, likely because Snape was brewing some messy potion in the basement again.
"Whoosh~"
Ian exhaled another puff of white mist, tucking his slightly frozen hands into his robes. He began to ponder whether he should gamble his alchemy reputation on researching the "second-generation hand warmer."
After the first generation, which was supposed to be heated pants, had failed miserably, perhaps he should design a more conventional magical version of a hand warmer.
"If I can develop a way to store fire with the properties of the [Soul Furnace] in a container for energy, maybe my second-generation hand warmer could help my classmates defend themselves."
"Throw it out to explode at enemies, and I could even feed back into my magic power, a triple win! My classmates win once, and I win twice, effectively balancing both gold galleons and power enhancement."
Ian felt like he had a breakthrough; such a genius idea popped into his head. He was eager to dive into the Room of Requirement after "class" to work on product design.
If Nicolas Flamel could manage the magical metal, it wouldn't just be ordinary flames that could be stored; even a small amount of Fiendfyre could potentially be contained.
"It could become a groundbreaking product comparable to nuclear-powered hand warmers and electric cars!" Ian's mind raced as he kept his gaze fixed on the ever-changing staircase ahead.
The speed at which these stairs rotated wasn't particularly fast, so typically, when encountering their shifting positions, one would have to wait anywhere from five to twenty minutes. They traced elegant arcs in space, with each turn perfectly connecting to the next.
More seamless than Lego connections.
The only downside was that the timing of their rotation was unpredictable, entirely dependent on how the administrator had set it up. It seemed that the original design had also considered the possibility of deterring intruders.
Not only was it a transportation hub within the castle, but it was also a perfect blend of magic and art, and it was the main culprit for many students arriving late on their first day.
Many students, upon entering the castle for the first time, would think they had memorized the staircase's rotation time, only to find themselves facing a different rotation pattern when it was time for class.
Running to the wrong floor and waiting too long were common issues... students who liked to time their arrivals often encountered these problems, and no one could say whether Professor McGonagall was subtly teaching them the importance of punctuality and preparation.
"If I were the headmaster, I'd do the same, hiding in the door crack to watch the students fret and secretly enjoy it." While waiting, Ian moved his hands in his robes' pockets. Not only had he applied the Undetectable Extension Charm to his money pouch, but every pocket in his robes also bore traces of the charm.
Of course.
Since expanding space was becoming increasingly difficult, Ian hadn't managed to create a large space in his robes; he could barely fit a few huskies in there.
"Where are my heated snacks?"
Ian rummaged through his clothing pockets but didn't find the spicy strips that the house-elves had specially prepared for him. Instead, he came across a small piece of paper.
"Back again?"
Ian, who never kept little notes on himself and even turned toilet paper into small stones, was immediately struck by a sense of déjà vu. He quickly pulled out a piece of paper that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in his pocket, and thankfully, this time it wasn't some mysterious "letter."
[To avoid you sneaking around asking me questions and pouring Veritaserum into my teacup, I need to warn you in advance. As a law-abiding alchemist and the current alchemy professor at Hogwarts, no matter what tricks you pull, I will absolutely not tell you that King Arthur's tomb is located in the XXXX area.]
Even without reading the text, Ian could tell from the handwriting who had secretly slipped this note into his pocket.
(To Be Continued…)
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