The next few hours.
The study has been transformed into a bustling alchemy workshop.
Nicolas Flamel rummaged through every nook and cranny, unearthing countless strange tools and materials—some Ian recognized, others he'd never seen before. Dumbledore and Grindelwald were also busy, running around at Nicolas's beck and call, handing him this and fetching that.
" Albus! Bring me the dragon blood from over there—not that bottle, but the one on the left, yes, that one!"
" Mr. Grindelwald, I've heard you have some knowledge of Space Magic? Come and take a look at this gear's meshing—its spatial coordinates seem to be off by 0.3 milliseconds. Can you calibrate it?" " Perenelle! Darling, we need more Phoenix Flames—a pair, the kind, the more the better!"
Ian watched from the side, a smile involuntarily creeping onto his face. This Master Alchemist, who had lived for over six hundred years, was like a child who had found a new toy, excitedly waving his arms and legs. But his hands were as steady as the most precise instruments, each operation accurate to the millimeter.
"This rune..." Nicolas pointed to an extremely complex rune engraved on the core component of the Time Machine, "Can you spot the problem?" Ian leaned closer, examined it carefully for a moment, and then nodded: "It's worn. The lines at the edges aren't clear enough, causing poor Magic Power transmission." "Yes!" Nicolas nodded in satisfaction, "And you see, the original design of this rune used the Titan rune system, which is different from what we use now. To repair it, we can't simply trace it; we need to..."
He paused, then took a carving knife as thin as a hair from the pile of tools and handed it to Ian:
"You give it a try."
Ian hesitated for a moment, then took the carving knife but didn't start carving immediately. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let his consciousness sink into the rune. A few seconds later, he opened his eyes, and the carving knife fell.
His hands were as steady as a rock, each cut precise to the extreme. Under his control, the carving knife moved across the runes like a living thing, repairing the worn lines little by little, and clarifying the blurred outlines bit by bit. Nicolas watched from the side, his expression growing increasingly fascinating.
It wasn't surprise, but rather... familiarity.
The technique, the rhythm, that unique understanding of runes—every detail felt incredibly familiar to him.
That's his technique.
That was a unique Alchemy technique invented by Nicolas Flamel.
Ian finished the last stroke, put down his carving knife, and let out a long sigh. He looked up and saw Nicolas's complicated gaze, and paused slightly, "What's wrong?"
Nicolas was silent for a few seconds, then slowly spoke, his voice hoarse and low:
"Child, who taught you Alchemy...?"
Ian paused for a moment, then understood. He looked down at the newly repaired rune, remained silent for a moment, and then said softly, "An old man who has lived for over six hundred years."
Nicolas's eyes widened slightly.
"He liked to drink a cup of hot tea in the morning and then sit in his study studying ancient books. He liked to take walks with his wife in the evening and look at the stars. He liked to..." Ian paused, a slight smile playing on his lips, "To boast to people about how many strange and wonderful things he had seen."
Nicolas's hands trembled slightly.
"He told me that the essence of Alchemy is not turning lead into gold, nor is it immortality, but rather..." Ian looked up at Nicolas, a warm light shining in his deep eyes, "It is Benedictine who understands the world." Nicolas's lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, but he found himself unable to utter a sound.
He certainly understood what that meant.
This child before me, this " Raven " from the future, this embodiment of Destiny—
He taught himself Alchemy.
In some future Timeline, I took this child in as my student.
He, Nicolas Flamel, had lived for over six hundred years and taught very few students. Each one was a carefully selected successor, whom he regarded as his own son. But this one before him... Nicolas suddenly smiled. That smile on his aged face was like the warm spring sun, so radiant that it was impossible to look away.
"Good, good!" His voice was filled with barely suppressed pride. "Even Raven are coming to me to learn Alchemy! I, Nicolas Flamel, have lived a worthwhile life!" Dumbledore watched from the side, a smile involuntarily creeping onto his lips. He knew his old friend's character—it was rare for something to make Nicolas so proud. Grindelwald, meanwhile, looked at Ian thoughtfully, a complex light flickering in his heterochromatic eyes. Just who was this child? Even Nicolas Flamel had become his teacher... Perenelle peeked out from the kitchen, saw her husband's smug expression, and couldn't help but laugh, "Getting all smug again?"
Nicolas laughed heartily and waved his hand, "That's right! Wife, you don't know, this child—he's my apprentice! My future apprentice! Raven is my apprentice!" Perenelle paused for a moment, then smiled as well. She looked at Ian, her eyes full of kindness, "Child, come here and let me see you." Ian walked up to her. Perenelle carefully examined his face, then gently patted his head:
"You've lost a bit of weight. I'll cook you something delicious once this machine is fixed."
Ian paused for a moment, then smiled. The smile on his youthful face seemed especially warm and genuine.
"Thank you, Madam."
The words "teacher's wife" made Perenelle's smile even brighter.
The repair work proceeded exceptionally smoothly over the next few hours.
With Nicolas's help, the problems that had previously stumped Ian were solved one by one. Dumbledore and Grindelwald also used their expertise— Dumbledore's profound understanding of Magic Runes and Grindelwald's superb skills in Space Magic —to become an indispensable part of the restoration work.
When the last gear was installed, when the last rune was activated, and when the Time Machine finally emitted a steady, soft, silvery-white light, everyone stopped what they were doing and watched it quietly.
The light shone with Outer Gods and beauty in the dim lamplight of the study. The gears turned slowly, emitting a rhythmic ticking sound like an old clock. Each tick seemed to be striking the pulse of Time Itself.
"It's fixed," Ian said softly, his voice tinged with barely suppressed excitement.
Nicolas looked at him, his eyes filled with satisfaction and pride. He patted Ian on the shoulder without saying a word—but the gesture itself was enough. Dumbledore stepped forward, examining the Time Machine closely. His gaze was deep and complex, as if he were looking at something beyond comprehension. "This is... something that can travel through time?"
Ian nodded. "Now you can."
Grindelwald also came over, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with curiosity. "How do you use it?"
Ian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at the Time Machine, remained silent for a few seconds, and then looked up at the three of them:
"Would you... like to give it a try?"
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then shook his head. "No, child. You brought this. Its first use should be your decision." Grindelwald nodded. "Besides, we have more important things to do. Voldemort is still waiting outside."
Ian was silent for a few seconds, then nodded. "You're right."
He reached out and gently touched the Time Machine. The light instantly brightened, enveloping him completely. A few seconds later, the light subsided, and the Time Machine returned to his palm, its original size. He carefully put the Time Machine away and then turned to Nicolas:
" Mr. Nicolas, thank you. Without you, I might never have been able to fix it."
Nicolas waved his hand, a smug smile on his face, "Don't be so polite, kid. You're my apprentice—my future apprentice, so you're still my apprentice! Helping your own apprentice is only natural!" He paused, then suddenly remembered something and asked:
"By the way, what do you need this for? Time travel? To the future? Or...?"
He looked at Ian, then at Dumbledore and Grindelwald, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Children, what do you want to do with the Time Machine?"
Neither Grindelwald nor Dumbledore knew how to answer.
For the sake of the plan.
They cannot disclose information.
In response to this...
Ian was silent for a few seconds. His gaze swept over Dumbledore, then over Grindelwald, finally settling on Nicolas Flamel's wrinkled yet still sharp face. Voldemort's plan, the trap of the bait, the impending final battle—all of this required absolute secrecy. Even for Nicolas Flamel, the less he knew, the safer he was. So he smiled slightly, a smile that appeared Outer Gods on his youthful face:
"Go and witness history."
Nicolas raised an eyebrow slightly. "Witness history?"
Ian nodded, offering no further explanation. He turned to Dumbledore and Grindelwald, a resolute glint in his deep eyes. "Ready?"
Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a glance, then nodded simultaneously.
"Then let's go."
Ian took the newly repaired Time Machine from his pocket. The intricate device slowly rotated in his palm, its silvery-white light flowing like liquid moonlight in the dimly lit study. The ticking of the gears grew faster and faster, eventually merging into a continuous hum.
"Stand closer," Ian said.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald walked to his side as instructed, the three of them almost touching. Ian looked up at the two old men—one was the headmaster of Hogwarts, the greatest white Wizard in the Wizarding World; the other was the Dark Lord had once stirred up storms in Europe, a figure feared throughout the entire Wizarding World. At this moment, their eyes both shone with the same light—expectation.
"Hold on tight," Ian said.
Dumbledore gently placed his hand on Ian's shoulder. Grindelwald hesitated for a second, then reached out and placed his hand on Ian's other shoulder as well. The scene was somewhat comical: a twelve-year-old boy being flanked by two centenarians, as if he were some important figure. But at this moment, no one found it funny. Ian took a deep breath and channeled his Magic Power Injection the Time Machine.
The silvery-white light surged instantly, completely engulfing the three of them!
In the light, everything blurred. Time lost its meaning, space lost its coordinates, only endless, flowing light, like a river, swept past them. Dumbledore felt his body being stretched, compressed, twisted, and then reformed. Grindelwald's feelings were more complex—he already possessed the Prophecy ability to travel through time, but at this moment, that feeling was stronger and more real than ever before. Ian's voice rang in their ears, piercing through the endless torrent of time and space:
"Don't resist, relax. Let the Time Machine take us where we're meant to be."
I don't know how much time passed—perhaps a moment, perhaps ten thousand years—the light suddenly vanished.
A solid feel came from beneath my feet.
The three of them opened their eyes.
They stood on a vast grassland.
The sky was a pure, almost transparent blue, clearer than any sky they had ever seen. The sun was larger than they were familiar with, its rays more intense, yet not blinding. A strange scent filled the air, a mixture of grass, wildflowers, and some ancient aroma—the pure, unpolluted scent of nature. In the distance, a mountain range rose on the horizon, its peaks soaring into the clouds, their summits capped with snow. At its foot lay an endless primeval forest, the trees unbelievably tall—even the shortest were at least ten times the height of the Daigo in the world they knew.
Dumbledore took a deep breath, sensing the Magic Power Fluctuation around him. His pupils contracted slightly.
" The Magic Power concentration here... is at least ten times that of our time."
Grindelwald nodded, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with excitement. "This is the world ten thousand years ago? No wonder Legend could emerge from that era—it would be strange if they didn't become Legend in such an environment." Ian took the Time Machine from his pocket, confirmed it was intact, and then carefully put it away. He turned to the two old men, a slight smile playing on his lips, revealing a challenging expression that belied his age. "Gentlemen, are you ready to roost in the dragon?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly. "Julong?"
A knowing glint flashed in Grindelwald's eyes. "You mean... the Ancient Dragon?"
Ian nodded. "The best way to become Legend is to defeat a Legend being. And ten thousand years ago, the most powerful Legend being on this continent was the Ancient Dragon." He paused, then pointed to the primeval forest in the distance.
"Deep within that forest live Ancient Dragon, larger and more powerful than any you will ever see. Their power is enough to tear mountains apart, to incinerate the sky, and to turn any Wizard who dares to challenge them to ashes."
He looked at the two of them, a serious glint in his deep eyes:
Are you scared?
Dumbledore smiled. The smile, on his aged face, appeared exceptionally gentle and serene.
"Afraid? No, child. I'm just thinking..."
He glanced at Grindelwald, a mischievous glint in his azure eyes:
" Gellert, let's see who takes one down first?"
Grindelwald paused for a moment, then laughed. His laughter was deep and provocative, carrying the arrogance of the former Dark Lord: " Albus, you've brought shame upon yourself."
Ian looked at them, his smile deepening. He knew that beneath the calm exteriors of these two old men lay a burning fighting spirit. "Then let's go."
Ian was preparing to film the two old men looking disheveled.
I'm so happy!
They headed towards the forest first.