Ascending to Legend is a leap in one's level of life.
Isn't that a complete transformation?
He still looked like Dumbledore— silver hair, deep blue eyes, and an aged face. But upon closer inspection, subtle changes could be observed. His skin had become more radiant, as if he had become decades younger. His eyes were deeper, as if they contained a starry sky.
His aura... was completely different too.
It was an indescribable, transcendent aura. Not oppressive, not threatening, but a pure, absolute sense of presence. He stood there, without any movement, without any Magic Power Fluctuation, yet his presence could not be ignored. It was as if he himself was a part of this world. As if he were the rules themselves.
Immediately afterwards, Grindelwald's hard shell also shattered.
He emerged from the shards, completely transformed. His heterochromatic eyes were now brighter and deeper, as if they could pierce through all the mists of time. His white hair was still disheveled, yet it exuded an indescribable, kingly majesty. The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, carrying a satisfied smile.
The two exchanged a glance.
There was no speech, no movement.
But they both sensed the changes in each other.
The Magic Power Fluctuation that once required conscious effort to detect were now completely contained. In their place was a more fundamental sense of existence, resonating with the entire world. "This is... Legend," Dumbledore said softly, a hint of emotion in his voice.
Grindelwald nodded, a complex light flickering in his heterochromatic eyes. "Five hundred years... the Wizarding World has finally produced a new Legend." He paused, looking at Dumbledore, his smile deepening.
"And two at a time."
Dumbledore. In that smile, there was relief, relief, and a complex emotion that only the two of them could understand.
Just then, a strange fragrance wafted over.
The two turned their heads at the same time, following the scent.
Then, their expressions froze simultaneously.
Not far away, Ian was squatting in the middle of an open space. In front of him was a huge pot—something he'd gotten from who-knows-where—and something was simmering inside, steaming gently. The strange aroma was wafting from the pot.
Beside him were several large bowls, filled with various seasonings—chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns, ginger, garlic, and a bunch of spices they couldn't name. He was stirring the broth in the pot with a huge spoon.
It's golden.
It's the color of dragon's blood.
Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly.
Grindelwald's eyebrows furrowed.
Ian looked up, saw the two of them, and flashed a bright smile, "Oh, you're out? Perfect timing! Come and try some! Fresh dragon blood spicy hot pot!" Dumbledore:...
Grindelwald:...
"You..." Grindelwald began with difficulty, his voice hoarse, "You're using dragon's blood... to cook spicy blood curd?"
Ian blinked, his innocent expression making you want to punch him. "What else? So much dragon blood, no need to waste it. I deliberately kept some for you guys, just for cooking. You don't know, the blood of Ancient Dragon is the best ingredient—a million times better than duck blood or pig blood!"
He scooped up a golden-red piece that looked like solidified dragon's blood with a spoon and showed it to the two of them:
"Look at this texture, this elasticity, this color—it's all amazing! Plus my special spicy broth, I guarantee you'll want more!" Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt his excitement at having just ascended to Legend status completely shattered by this pot of spicy blood curd. Grindelwald's expression was even more interesting. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found himself completely at a loss for words.
Seeing their expressions, Ian smiled even more broadly, "Don't just stand there! Come and sit down! I just found some mushrooms and wild vegetables in the forest, and I put them in too. Don't worry, they're not poisonous—I tested them with magic." He pointed to a few makeshift seats made of stones nearby and warmly invited them in.
"Come, come, try my cooking! I guarantee it'll taste even better than House-elf at Hogwarts make!"
Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a glance, both seeing the same thing in each other's eyes.
have no choice.
And there was also a hint of... irrepressible curiosity.
After all, that's Mao Xue Wang made with the blood of Ancient Dragon.
A few seconds later, the two silently walked to the pot and sat down on the stone.
Ian nodded in satisfaction and served each of them a large bowl. The golden-red dragon blood cubes tumbled in the red oil broth, emitting an enticing aroma that whetted the appetite. Dumbledore took the bowl, picked up a piece of dragon blood with his fork, hesitated for a second, and then put it in his mouth.
In that instant, his eyes lit up.
The texture was smooth, tender, and bouncy, melting in your mouth. The flavor was a rich, meaty aroma, mixed with the spiciness of chili, and a unique, indescribable flavor that seemed to contain an ancient power. "How is it?" Ian asked expectantly.
Dumbledore paused for a second, then nodded. "Delicious."
Grindelwald also took a bite, a hint of surprise flashing in his heterochromatic eyes. He didn't speak, but silently forked another piece. Ian smiled. That smile on his youthful face was exceptionally bright and full of satisfaction.
"I knew it," he said smugly, " Ancient Dragon are treasures from head to toe. Their scales can be used to make shields, their bones to make wands, their hearts to brew potions, and their blood..." He tapped the rim of the pot with his spoon:
"It can make the best Mao Xue Wang (a spicy Sichuan dish)."
Dumbledore shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Grindelwald snorted and continued eating. Ten thousand years ago, in the primeval forest, three Legend beings were enjoying a pot of dragon blood spicy stew. In the distance, the drained dragon corpse lay quietly on the ground, as if silently accusing something.
But nobody paid any attention to it.
After all, its blood created two Legend.
The remaining value has been transformed into a delicious pot of spicy blood curd.
He died a worthy death.
"There's only a little dragon meat; the ingredients aren't plentiful enough." As soon as Ian finished speaking, Grindelwald stood up and walked deeper into the forest. " Gellert?" Dumbledore called after him, "Where are you going?"
Grindelwald didn't turn around, simply raising his hand and waving. "Hunting. We've come all this way ten thousand years ago, how can we not try some of the local game?" Dumbledore frowned, looking at Ian with a hint of worry in his azure eyes. "Won't this... cause too much distortion of history? We've come here, killed Dragon, and now we're hunting other creatures—will the accumulation of these actions affect the future?"
Ian, engrossed in his spicy Sichuan-style stew, looked up at the sound of the voice, a smear of golden-red broth still clinging to his lips. He casually wiped it with his sleeve, revealing a confident smile far beyond his years, " Headmaster Dumbledore, rest assured. I can't speak for everything else, but when it comes to deceiving history—I'm an expert."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed even more. "An expert?"
Ian nodded, put down the bowl, and took out the exquisite pocket watch-like instrument from his pocket, tapping it. A complex, ever-changing image appeared on the surface of the instrument—like some kind of geological monitoring map. "Look at this," he said, handing the instrument to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore took it and examined it closely. The image showed a cross-section of a mountain range, deep within which a huge, crimson energy was surging wildly, the surface values constantly climbing. "This is..." His pupils contracted slightly.
"That volcano," Ian pointed to the towering mountain range in the distance, "I didn't choose this time randomly. It will erupt in three hours." Grindelwald had returned at some point, clearly drawn to the topic. He leaned closer to look at the instruments, a hint of surprise flashing in his heterochromatic eyes. "The scale of the eruption?"
"It's huge," Ian said, a cold expression appearing on his youthful face that seemed completely out of place with his age. "Huge enough to wipe everything within a radius of hundreds of kilometers. Forests, animals, including the land beneath our feet, will all be reduced to nothing in lava and volcanic ash."
He paused, looked at the two of them, and a serious glint flashed in his deep eyes:
"That's why I said there's no need to worry about affecting history. Because in three hours, all traces of our presence, the food we ate, the Dragon we killed, and any creatures we hunted will be completely erased in this apocalypse. As if they never existed."
Dumbledore paused for a few seconds, then slowly spoke, "You mean... we're in an apocalypse?"
Ian nodded. "Yes. A true apocalypse, capable of destroying everything. The magma will be hot enough to melt even keel bones, and the volcanic ash will be thick enough to completely bury an entire forest. Any trace we leave behind, any Destiny we alter, will vanish in this apocalypse."
He stood up, walked to a spot with a clear view, and looked out at the primeval forest that was about to be destroyed:
"Look at that forest, look at those creatures. They certainly existed, they certainly lived. But three hours from now, the vast majority of them will be dead in the volcanic eruption. Those we killed only brought forward their time of death by a few hours."
He turned to look at Dumbledore, his deep eyes gleaming with a wisdom beyond his years:
"The highest level of deceiving history is not to carefully leave no trace, but to erase every trace along with the natural course of history. When everything returns to nothingness, who will remember that we were ever here?" Grindelwald's eyes lit up. He looked at Ian, his heterochromatic eyes full of admiration:
"Great idea! This way, we can enjoy the delicious food from ten thousand years ago without worrying about affecting history—it's perfect!" He patted Dumbledore on the shoulder, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
" Albus, stop pretending. Your students have paved the way for you this far; it would be unreasonable for you not to appreciate it." Dumbledore was silent for a few seconds, then sighed softly. But in that sigh, there was clearly a hint of relief, and a hint of... a helpless smile. "You child," he looked at Ian and shook his head, "How do you know everything?"
Ian blinked, his innocent expression making you want to punch him. "I'm the embodiment of Destiny. How can I be the embodiment of Destiny if I don't know these things?" Dumbledore smiled helplessly.
Grindelwald had turned again and strode into the forest. This time, his steps were lighter and more unrestrained:
"Wait! I'll go get some real good stuff! Wild game from ten thousand years ago, paired with dragon blood spicy stew from ten thousand years ago—that's what a feast should be!" Ian shouted behind him. "Catch as many as you can! Especially the flying ones! Roasted wings are the best!"
Grindelwald waved without turning his head and quickly disappeared into the dense bushes.
Dumbledore sat back down on the rock, picked up the bowl of spicy blood curd that had gone cold, and silently began to eat.
Ian looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips, "What, not worried anymore?"
Dumbledore shook his head, a complex light flashing in his azure eyes:
"What are you worried about? You've convinced me."
He paused, gazing at the distant volcano that seemed poised to bring about its own doom, his voice softening:
"An apocalypse... indeed, there's no better cover."
Ian nodded and looked up at the volcano.
Two figures, one large and one small, sat side by side in a primeval forest ten thousand years ago, awaiting the end of the world and the grand feast to come. In the distance, the roar of the volcano grew louder and louder.
Grindelwald's figure disappeared into the depths of the forest.
About half an hour later, Grindelwald returned.
He didn't come back alone.
Behind him floated a whole host of prey—two giant wolves larger than horses, a rhinoceros-like creature covered in scales, several colorful, writhing giant snakes, and a giant eagle with a wingspan of over five meters.
Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly. "You... brought half the forest here?"
Grindelwald tossed the prey to the ground, clapped his hands, and said smugly, "I just grabbed this while passing by. They're all species I've never seen before; it would be a shame not to try them." He looked at Ian: "Do you have a fire?"
Ian snapped his fingers. A ball of Fiendfyre flew from his fingertips, landed on the ground, and instantly ignited a roaring campfire.
Grindelwald stared at the ball of Fiendfyre, a complex light flashing in his heterochromatic eyes—it was a flame he was familiar with, a flame he had been immersed in for over half a century. But the purity of that flame, wielded by Ian, was even higher than that of him, a " Fiendfyre master."
"You Fiendfyre..." he murmured to the south.
Ian blinked. "Learned from you. In the future."
Grindelwald paused for a moment, then smiled. His smile held a mixture of satisfaction, pride, and a complex, indescribable emotion. He said nothing more and began processing his prey.
Dumbledore initially sat to the side, maintaining a "I won't participate" attitude. But as Grindelwald handed him the first piece of roasted meat, the golden, crispy skin, the sizzling fat, and the irresistible aroma filled the air.
His resolve wavered.
"Just one piece," he said to himself.
Then, it became a second piece, a third piece, a fourth piece... Ian watched from the side, his smile growing wider. He took out the small device, aimed it at the two of them, and quietly pressed the shutter.
This moment was recorded.