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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.
The personal style of Nicolas Flamel, the Master of Alchemy, was unmistakable.
“Law-abiding my ass…” Ian thought of Nicolas Flamel’s money-printing machine; if he dared to create something like that, who knows what other astonishing things he was up to behind the scenes?
Moreover, while the note sternly stated that he wouldn’t tell Ian the location of King Arthur’s tomb, the final address was detailed enough to include nearby landmarks. The most ridiculous part was that Nicolas Flamel seemed to fear Ian wouldn’t find it, even providing the exact latitude and longitude coordinates of the tomb on Earth.
“This six-hundred-year-old professor seems to be quite the jokester…” Ian looked at the note in his hand and recalled the tomb-raiding tools he had confiscated from Nicolas Flamel, which he had never asked back for.
It was clear what Nicolas Flamel was hoping to see, if the tomb he provided was for someone else, Ian would definitely be tempted.
However.
The tomb Nicolas Flamel mentioned was that of the legendary king. This made things a bit tricky for Ian, as he was deeply entangled with the relevant figures in many ways.
Of course.
That didn’t mean Ian wasn’t at all tempted.
After all, as someone with grand ambitions, aspiring to pass on the tomb-raiding legacy to future generations and establish a wizarding equivalent of the “Old Nine Gates,” Ian was quite curious about the tombs of legendary figures.
While he had never dug up Merlin’s tomb, King Arthur’s tomb would certainly contain Arthur’s remains, and casting a [Corpse Control Curse] on it would undoubtedly bring a sense of accomplishment.
The only concern was that digging up such a grave would surely involve many dangers, and the consequences could be severe, not to mention the risk of getting beaten up by Morgan.
No matter how great the grudge.
After all, it was the grave of his teacher’s younger brother. This was the tricky part for Ian, but for a clever young wizard like him, there were always perfect solutions to problems.
“I’ll pull my good friend Pendero into this; he definitely won’t refuse such a unique adventure. He gains joy, and I gain safety and treasure. All I need is a magic stone that still retains a good amount of magic power to help me summon him as my Patronus… One stone isn’t enough; I have plenty more.”
Ian’s alternative idea made him feel like he could win twice. Just as he was formulating this brilliant plan, the rotating staircase gradually came to a stop.
The young wizard, full of wild ideas, was just about to step onto it.
“Wait, wait.” Suddenly, an elderly voice called out from behind Ian, sounding somewhat breathless and intermittent.
“Hello, sir…” Ian turned around to see an old man with a head full of white hair, dressed in an over-the-knee coat, exuding a refined and amiable aura.
His still-lush hair even allowed for a significant fringe that covered part of his eyes, giving him a rather fashionable appearance. For some reason, Ian was reminded of a character from the “Dragon” series.
Good-looking, with plenty of hair and a great demeanor; it was no wonder he was accompanied by two grandmothers whose features, though lined with wrinkles, still suggested they must have been quite beautiful in their youth.
Of course.
This wasn’t what Ian envied the most. His gaze was fixed on the old man’s head; at such an advanced age, he still had a full head of hair. Ian was curious to know if he used the Potter family shampoo.
“There’s only you, a young wizard, around here. I assume you’re looking for your lost pet?” The old man unbuttoned his coat to reveal a small creature nestled inside.
The Bowtruckle that had escaped from Nicolas Flamel’s office was now snugly pressed against the old man’s chest, sound asleep, its little claws gently resting on the old man’s chest in a rather intimate manner.
“No, I lost a Bowtruckle made of gold, Mr. Scamander.” Ian had felt a sense of familiarity before, but now he was completely certain of the old man’s identity.
Yes.
Newt Scamander. Most wizards would be familiar with this elderly figure, as his portrait was printed on the cover of “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.”
He was the author of “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them” and had once been a student of Hufflepuff House at Hogwarts, though he had “graduated” early for some well-known reasons.
Ian had seen glimpses of Newt Scamander in his prime through the memories of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and now Newt had transformed into a white-haired elder.
He even appeared older than Albus Dumbledore, which was hard to imagine from Ian’s perspective as he thought of the protagonists of a bygone era.
Indeed, from what Ian knew about Newt Scamander, he certainly fit the mold of a main character template, perhaps even more so than Harry Potter.
Those in the know understood that many who didn’t graduate normally from Hogwarts had become significant figures; even Hagrid was a powerhouse. Who could say that a half-giant capable of withstanding considerable magic wasn’t strong enough?
Newt Scamander was among those non-traditional graduates. Even if one overlooked his achievements in magical creatures, his life could undoubtedly be described as eventful, after all, he was someone who had opposed Grindelwald and still lived to tell the tale, all while not being particularly strong in magic.
If they weren’t telling Harry Potter’s story, but rather Newt Scamander’s, Ian felt they could easily make five films, and the plot would certainly be much more thrilling than students battling Voldemort.
“Ah?”
The young wizard’s somewhat nonsensical response clearly caught Newt Scamander off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless, as if he were still the same shy person he had always been.
“Actually, if there were a Bowtruckle made of silver, the Bowtruckle I lost could also be made of silver. Everyone at Hogwarts knows I’m easy to talk to.”
Ian glanced again at the little creature nestled in Newt Scamander’s arms. The Bowtruckle he had been caring for for so many days didn’t seem to be entirely rebellious.
At least it was quite close to Newt Scamander.
Perhaps Newt Scamander’s ancestors were indeed Druids.
“…”
Newt Scamander was left speechless by Ian’s comments, and the elderly lady beside him, who was holding the “true nuclear weapon” level suitcase, couldn’t help but laugh.
“Hahahaha, you little rascal, you’re too funny.” This lady was likely Newt Scamander’s wife, who had reportedly worked as an Auror in the Ministry of Magic in some country.
She had been led astray by Newt Scamander.
“I’m quite serious, madam.” Ian didn’t quite remember what Newt Scamander’s wife’s name was; after all, she was only briefly mentioned in “A History of Modern Magic.” His assignments were all completed with William’s help, so he certainly couldn’t expect to speak as eloquently as Hermione.
“You can call me Tina.” The elderly lady clearly had a youthful spirit, introducing the somewhat sorrowful-looking lady beside her.
“This is my younger sister, Queenie Kowalski. You should call her Miss Queenie as well. She’s been feeling a bit down lately, so I brought her out to cheer her up.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, oh, she’s quite a remarkable person.” Tina took over the conversation with Ian, clearly more talkative than Newt Scamander.
“Losing a family member is indeed sad, but please accept my condolences. Everyone eventually reaches the end of their life, and the next journey is not as frightening as most people think.” Ian glanced at the sorrowful-looking Queenie, trying to soften his voice a bit.
Upon hearing this, Queenie finally looked at the young wizard.
“For an elderly person who has been bedridden for many years, death is also a form of liberation, isn’t it?” She clearly sought some external validation for comfort.
“Death is a new beginning, it is more beautiful than most people think. You will reunite, just as you long for, after you pass away peacefully.”
“I can mostly guarantee that.” Ian provided the emotional support she sought, but he also took precautions against any potential thoughts of self-harm she might have.
There absolutely could not be any hanging incidents at Hogwarts tomorrow morning.
“Clap!”
At that moment, Newt Scamander suddenly clapped his hands. “I believe you must be Mr. Ian Prince. Albus has mentioned you in his communications more than once, praising you highly. Now I see why; you speak just like him.”
Seeing that Ian didn’t refute this, Newt Scamander felt pleased with his accurate judgment.
“Not very big, but quite insightful. For me, such remarks are indeed meaningful.” The sorrow on Queenie’s face seemed to lighten a bit.
After saying this, she turned to Newt Scamander, her tone carrying a hint of reproach. “See? This is how you comfort someone, not like you, telling me from a biological perspective that my husband won’t feel cold in the grave and blaming me for putting treasures in his tomb that would only hasten the decay of his body.”
Clearly.
Newt Scamander’s emotional intelligence had not improved much over the years. To be fair, managing to get a wife was undoubtedly the greatest miracle that had happened to Newt Scamander.
“Treasure? You shouldn’t just leave treasures in a grave; they can breed things that shouldn’t be there, just like oil.” Ian looked up at the three elderly people in front of him.
“You see, I’m not the only one saying this.” Newt Scamander, who had initially looked embarrassed, seemed to find a lifeline and immediately echoed Ian’s words.
He, his wife, and his sister-in-law clearly didn’t understand what Ian meant.
“Ha!”
Queenie looked indignant.
“Alright, alright, you know Newt is just like that; he doesn’t mean to upset you.” The other elderly lady, Tina, stepped in as a peacemaker. It was amusing to see this nearly two-hundred-year-old group still bickering.
“Crack~ crack~”
Ian pulled out some sunflower seeds.
“You’re watching the show now!” Queenie shot a glare at the young wizard.
“Do you want some?” The young wizard offered his sunflower seeds to the three elderly folks.
“…”
Queenie was momentarily speechless. Her personality had changed quite a bit from her younger days; perhaps it was due to being widowed, or maybe it was a transformation after going through menopause.
“I want some.” Tina cheerfully accepted the sunflower seeds from Ian’s hand.
“Who are you here to see?”
Ian seized the opportunity to inquire about the trio’s reason for coming to Hogwarts. He, of course, was well aware that Newt Scamander’s usual residence was extremely far from Hogwarts.
If they were visiting, it wasn’t exactly the right time for such a visit.
“We’re looking for Mr. Nicolas Flamel,” the elderly Tina replied, turning to ask the young wizard about Nicolas Flamel’s whereabouts.
“Over there,” Ian pointed in the direction of Nicolas Flamel’s office.
Upon hearing this, Tina immediately thanked him and turned to her husband beside her.
“Let me rest for a moment. The journey from Dorset has exhausted me,” Newt Scamander said, leaning against a nearby stone pillar. He did look somewhat out of breath.
It’s no wonder why so many shonen manga never depict the protagonists getting married and having children. Looking at Newt Scamander now, one could understand why.
“It’s not the journey that’s exhausted you, but that trunk of yours you can’t bear to let go of,” Queenie remarked, glancing at the leather suitcase her sister was carrying.
She wasn’t referring to the weight of the trunk, but the magical creatures inside it causing trouble.
“They’re just small creatures. I’m not as energetic as I was in my youth, and I’ve become much more cautious. My trunk hasn’t caused any… major trouble in years,” Newt quickly defended himself, glancing at Ian as if trying to salvage his image in front of the younger wizard.
“Like the dragon? The Thunderbird?”
Ian’s curiosity was piqued as he looked at Newt’s trunk, it was a legend in itself. In its prime, it was said to have contained creatures with legendary strength, almost on par with a Chosen One.
“They’re all small, just small…” Newt’s evasive reply only confirmed that he wasn’t very good at lying.
However, his wife, Tina, wasn’t about to let him off the hook.
“You rescued a Occamy on the way here, and it wasn’t small at all. You could have handed it over to the Magical Congress’s rescue team,” Tina said, shaking the trunk in her hand.
“I don’t trust them. They wrongfully accused Albus… The Occamy is very obedient. It’s already shrunk down to a very small size.”
Newt Scamander seemed to have redefined what “small creatures” meant.
“I also love raising small creatures,” Ian said, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the Occamy. He was trying to ingratiate himself with Newt, as his current bottleneck with the Extension Charm required Occamy hide.
Of course, Ian wasn’t the kind of person who would kill an Occamy for its hide. He had special potions that could accelerate the healing of magical creatures.
“It’s clear you’ve been raising Bowtruckles since you were in school. You must be just as obsessed with magical creatures as I am,” Newt said, immediately finding common ground.
He gently removed the Bowtruckle from his lap and handed it back to Ian.
“If a wizard offers a Bowtruckle earthworms, it will be comforted for a long time. Then the wizard can take wood from the tree to make a wand.”
“They love earthworms. And it’s best if these little creatures have their own territories,” Newt added, not forgetting to share some knowledge with Ian.
Ian nodded immediately.
“Exactly, that’s right. I’ve been trying to build my own [Ian’s Box], but I’ve hit a wall with the Extension Charm.”
Ian quickly stuffed the Bowtruckle back into his money bag before it could wake up. He looked at Newt with hope in his eyes.
“If you could give me some guidance on building the trunk, I’d be eternally grateful.”
Ian considered offering money but thought it might offend the older man.
He was still a bit too worldly. His eyes weren’t as clear and pure as Newt’s, though, to be fair, he was still quite pure and clear-eyed for a student at Hogwarts.
“Nicolas Flamel contacted me for the same reason, to help collect materials for the Extension Charm,” Newt said, pulling out a small cloth bag.
“I gathered a little extra. I hope it helps you.”
Newt’s generosity caught the young wizard off guard. He directly placed the cloth bag in Ian’s hand.
“Exchange of gifts, exchange of gifts,” Ian said hurriedly.
He rummaged through his money bag but couldn’t find anything related to magical creatures. All he could do was pull out a handful of black sand.
His grasp still wasn’t very steady, and some of the sand slipped through his fingers.
“Thank you,” Newt said, quickly cupping his hands to catch the sand Ian offered.
“What is it?” Tina asked curiously, leaning in.
“A precious gift from the young wizard,” Newt replied, giving his wife a look as if he feared her straightforward nature might hurt Ian’s pride.
“Thank you,” Tina said, rolling her eyes at her husband. She thought he sometimes deeply misunderstood her. Was she really the kind of person with such low emotional intelligence after all these years?
“I think we should pack it up and make it into a small crystal ball. Black snow would look wonderful. I’ve seen something like it in Muggle stores.”
Tina proved her appreciation for the handful of sand with her words. She pulled out an empty cloth bag, poured the black sand into it, and then attempted to use her wand to collect the sand that had fallen to the ground.
However.
“Huh?”
Tina waved her wand.
But to her surprise, she found herself unable to control the sand.
“What’s going on?”
Newt Scamander also sensed something was amiss. He trembled as he pulled out his own wand and tried to cast a spell, but it had no effect on the sand.
“These sands… like you, young one… are not quite right.”
Only Queenie didn’t pull out her wand. Instead, she furrowed her brow in confusion. As a natural Legilimens with exceptional perception and mental strength, she was more attuned to the unusual nature of the sand.
“It’s time sand. These are time sands.”
Ian was equally astonished to see the three adults struggling with such a simple magical task. He, too, was hearing for the first time that these sands were immune to wizarding magic.
But earlier, when he had used the Protean Charm on them, it had worked. Could it be related to the level of magical power?
“What did you say?!”
“You… you said what?!”
“Shh~~~~”
…
Just as Ian was perplexed, the three older wizards simultaneously widened their eyes, as if they had misheard something unbelievable.
“I said, these are time sands.”
Ian wasn’t one for subtlety. He raised his voice, shouting his next words, and in the next moment, he saw Newt Scamander’s expression turn utterly incredulous.
Even someone as composed as Newt was left stunned, his mind reeling.
“My goodness!”
Tina was equally shocked, her hand covering her mouth. Her younger sister, Queenie, reacted the fastest, dropping to the ground to gather every last grain of sand.
“How do you have something like this…” Newt Scamander couldn’t help but reassess the young wizard in front of him. He wondered if Albus Dumbledore had raided the Department of Mysteries.
“I dug them up myself. I didn’t know what they were at first. It was Nicolas Flamel who told me they were time sands.”
“You see, I was just seeking Professor Flamel’s guidance. That’s why you met me here.” Ian’s reply was remarkably honest.
“!!!”
Newt Scamander’s expression remained one of astonishment.
With Nicolas Flamel’s endorsement, he had no reason to doubt Ian. But where could so much time sand possibly come from if not the Department of Mysteries?
The Forbidden Forest?
It was true that the forest held many secrets.
But was this secret perhaps too significant?
“Child, this material is extremely valuable. You shouldn’t have shown it to anyone… and you mustn’t tell anyone about it. The Ministry of Magic would surely take an interest in you.” Newt Scamander took the cloth bag from his wife, his tone heavy with warning as he prepared to return the bag of time sands to Ian.
He seemed to harbor a deep distrust for the Ministry.
“Yes, child. You may not understand the significance of time sands now, but trust us, it will bring you danger.” Tina nodded in agreement.
The two of them clearly had no idea about Ian’s true capabilities.
“Newt! We need… I need this…” Queenie, having gathered the sand from the ground, stood up just as Newt was about to hand the bag back to Ian.
She grew anxious.
“I have money, child. I can give you all my money. I need it…” Queenie’s expression was tense as she pulled out a key from her pocket.
The elderly woman, likely in her eighties, looked at Ian with pleading eyes.
“Uh.”
Ian glanced at the Gringotts key in Queenie’s hand but didn’t reach for it. Instead, he dipped his hands into his money bag and pulled out two handfuls of black sand.
“It’s all here, all of it. Anyone who knows me knows I’m always happy to help.”
Ian had a good idea of what they wanted to use the time sands for.
He said.
And with that, he continued.
Under the bewildered stares of the three adults, Ian casually handed two handfuls of black sand to Queenie and Tina, demonstrating what it meant to be impartial and generous without any bias.
“!!!!!”
“?????”
“!?!?!”
The three of them had vastly different expressions, but they all shared a common feeling: utter bewilderment. What kind of person would casually hand out time sands like they were selling them in bulk?
“How much did you dig up?” Newt Scamander asked, his tone strained.
“Enough?” Ian replied, unsure of the exact amount he had unearthed. His response was classic, and it immediately brought an awkward silence to the room.
Seeing the subtle expressions on the three adults, Ian decided to break the tension. “Honestly, Miss Queenie, I don’t think trying to go back to the past is a responsible thing to do. It could cost you dearly.”
Queenie’s face clouded with sorrow, her inner turmoil evident. “I’ve been a wizard for over eighty years. I know this, but I just want to see… just see.”
“You even guessed that?” Tina asked, glancing at the black sand in her hand before looking at Ian in disbelief.
“He’s a natural Legilimens… like me… no, even more powerful,” Queenie said, her gaze piercing as she looked at Ian.
Her words left Newt Scamander and Tina stunned.
“Sorry…” Ian scratched his head sheepishly.
His innate ability to sense thoughts was extraordinary, and after mastering various mental magics, his passive perception had become even more acute. Newt and Tina’s Occlumency skills were no match for it, and Queenie’s emotions were laid bare before him, even though he didn’t want to intrude.
“I understand,” Queenie said, her voice filled with gratitude as she clutched the black sand Ian had given her. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything foolish.”
Of course, many people tend to say such things right before they do something reckless.
“Actually, I know a form of divination,” Ian said, his eyes flicking to the key in Queenie’s hand, which he was sure unlocked a vault filled with gold Galleons.
“Ah?” Queenie looked confused.
So did Newt Scamander and Tina.
It was a type of magic they had never heard of.
“Dark magic?” Tina asked suspiciously.
“Of course not! I’m a proper white wizard! Dumbledore can vouch for me!” Ian protested.
“What kind of magic is that? I’ve never heard of it,” Tina pressed on, her expression still puzzled.
“Don’t ask me. I don’t understand these messy magics…” Newt Scamander shrugged. He had always focused on practical magic that was useful to him.
“Perhaps I should ask Dumbledore about it and have him explain it to you?” Ian suggested, unsure if he should reveal his unusual abilities to strangers.
His sympathy for Queenie wasn’t just about the Galleons; her emotions were so potent that they had stirred his compassion.
“Agreed,” Queenie replied quickly, her eyes flickering.
“Let’s talk about your ‘Ian’s Box’ instead. I think I can only help you with that. I can even help you make the kind of trunk you want.”
“After all, the gift you gave me… it feels burning in my hands,” Newt Scamander said, smoothly changing the subject. The mention of magical creature trunks lit up his eyes.
“Really?” Ian’s face lit up at the prospect of not having to build it himself.
Newt Scamander chuckled. “First, we need to know the habits of the magical creatures you usually keep. That’s crucial for designing the environment inside the trunk.”
“The key to raising magical creatures together is to provide each friend with a suitable habitat and prevent territorial conflicts.”
Newt Scamander began to explain, but his question caught Ian off guard.
“Uh… well… this is…” Ian’s smile froze. He had just been accused of mastering dark magic by Tina, and now he was supposed to explain the habits of the creatures he wanted to keep in his trunk?
The creatures he had in mind were far too sensitive. Dementors, dragons, skeletons, dark Phoenixes… the more Ian thought about it, the more he realized that he might indeed have a penchant for dark magic.
(End Of This Chapter)
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