Morning mist condensed into tiny droplets on the stained glass, slowly falling from the pointed arches of Hogwarts' arcades. Ian stood beneath the corridor chandelier, watching the starlight flowing across Merlin's robes gradually dim.
"Mmmpf—"
He was not crying.
Merlin had been pinned firmly to the ground by Ian, with a Gatling barrel stuffed into his mouth. He could not even speak, and could only raise both hands in surrender.
Ian pretended not to see and kept shoving the Gatling barrel deeper toward Merlin's throat. Dumbledore truly could not bear to watch such an inhumane scene any longer and hurriedly stepped in.
"Enough, Ian. Mr. Ambrosius has clearly surrendered." The old headmaster hoped Ian would show some dueling sportsmanship. He also felt that Merlin deserved at least some respect.
Although Merlin had attacked him and Nick LeMay for reasons unknown, he was still a true sage of the past. Without Merlin, The Wizarding World would never have developed as far as it had today.
That was no exaggeration.
Merlin had made outstanding contributions to improving the study of magic. It could be said that he had laid the foundations for spells that allowed more wizards with magic to learn safely in later generations.
Of course, looking at it now, perhaps Merlin had not researched this field merely on a whim to simplify magic. At some point, he might have witnessed magic in the form of spells.
But no matter what.
Merlin's contributions to wizardkind could not be erased—yet Ian currently looked like he was trying to forcibly teach Merlin some English tradition, which Dumbledore truly found hard to watch.
"Alright, Headmaster. As long as you're satisfied." Ian did not actually hold any grudge against Merlin. He had merely read books on success, and knew well that a leader needed to