World Gate

At midnight, the manor's lights were refracted by the runes into a soft white glow. Unsealed letters lay scattered across the desk, their ink still wet, their handwriting neat and composed.

Over the past few hours, Ian had replied to dozens of letters. Their recipients were the most powerful names in the Wizarding World: potion masters, alchemy scholars, the president of the Society of Runes, and even representatives of the International Confederation of Wizards.

The correspondence covered a wide range of subjects, from Ancient Runes to spatial spells, from alchemical formulas to Dark magic theory.

Five years of seclusion had not made him forgotten.

The Daily Prophet had reported, "Genius Wizard Ian Alvin Returns," and within just a few days, letters from all sides had poured in like snowflakes.

Each letter represented a faction's interests, a desire, and a contest over the future.

After replying to the last letter, Ian rose and headed for the deepest part of the manor.

Even the House-elves were forbidden from approaching that Chamber.

More than a dozen defensive spells layered one upon another, and the barriers pressed the very air tight. If an outsider wandered in by mistake, a thousand curses would tear them to pieces in an instant.

The door slowly opened, and a heart-stirring energy spread out from within.

A massive metal door stood in the center of the room, its surface covered in ancient runes. The metal glimmered with a deep blue light, and the surrounding space seemed to tremble faintly, with even time slightly warped.

It was his greatest alchemical achievement—World Gate.

The name sounded grand, but the device was still incomplete.

The space beyond the door did not lead to another world. It was merely an unstable, trembling dimensional rift.

Even so, this Creation still embodied an ambition: a key to countless worlds.

From the day he had crossed over into the Wizarding World, Ian had wondered: Why had he arrived here? Were there others like him, from beyond the borders of "fiction"?

If those novels, films, and legends were all reflections of real worlds, how could he cross over to the other side?

And so, his research began.

From Apparition, the Floo Network, and the principles behind Portkeys, to the runic structures of time-and-space magic, he had spent years sorting through every layer of logic in the field of spatial magic.

World Gate was the culmination of all that research.

The metal door trembled faintly. As the runes flickered, energy flowed like the tide.

The boundary of the world was right before him, yet remained out of reach.

The spatial coordinate system within the door could bypass the Anti-Apparition Barriers at Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic, and even transport someone to any point in the Solar System, provided the coordinates were calculated precisely.

But it still had not achieved its true goal—crossing dimensions.

The laboratory was filled with the mingled scent of metal and magic.

The light array lit up, and numerical symbols floated like Stardust. Ian reached out to touch the runes on the door and murmured, "Space is under control, but time remains unstable."

To solve the problem, he began studying the Time-Turner.

Back at Hogwarts, he had once tried to take every available class, all for the sake of obtaining an officially issued Time-Turner, but Dumbledore had rejected his application.

In the end, he had used the Bones family's connections in the Ministry of Magic to acquire one in secret.

Unfortunately, the results had been less than ideal.

The energies of time and space were incompatible. World Gate could either travel through space or turn back time, but it could not do both at once.

Even so, he had managed to give the portal a brief Time Rewind function—three hours.

Though it was still inferior to a true Time-Turner, it was enough to prove that the theory was viable.

"One step away."

His fingertips brushed the center of the door, and energy pulsed in his palm.

"Just one step more, and I'll be able to see another stretch of stars."

The light array slowly dimmed.

Ian shut off the flow of energy and lowered all the defenses. After completing his research notes, he saw that dusk was drawing near.

The Bones family's dinner would be held that evening.

He washed the magic powder from his hands and changed into a dark gray robe, regaining the composed, elegant appearance of a scholar.

The dinner was held at the ancient Bones Manor. The long table was draped in dark red velvet, silver candlesticks gleamed, and the air was filled with the scent of spices and roast meat.

Across from him sat Amelia Bones. Once the Ministry of Magic's strictest law enforcer, she was now one of the few people in the current situation who could still keep a clear head.

Her stern features were sharp as a blade, yet her eyes held a warmth that the passage of time had only concealed.

"Now that you're an adult, do you really think you can do whatever you want?" Her tone was calm, but every word landed with a chill.

"Amelia, don't be so angry. I explained before I left that I'd be gone for a few years."

"Explaining doesn't mean you can disappear." Her fork tapped lightly against the edge of her plate. "Five whole years, and all I got from you were letters."

"One every week." Ian smiled.

"Should I be grateful? Thank my nephew—the boy I raised as my own son—for letting me know he's still alive?"

The atmosphere froze for a moment. Ian gave a soft cough and changed the subject. "How are things at the Ministry of Magic lately?"

"Still chaotic. Fudge's stupidity makes me wonder whether human evolution is going backward."

"I told you long ago to run for Minister."

"Dumbledore was on his side back then. My chances were too slim."

"If you'd used the methods I suggested, you'd have had better than even odds." His lips curved slightly. "You'll regret it sooner or later."

"Making another prophecy?" Amelia set down her cutlery, her expression turning grave.

"I am." He answered calmly, "In four or five years, Voldemort will return, and a second Wizarding War will break out."

The candle flames flickered, and the air suddenly turned cold.

Amelia fell silent for a moment, then spoke in a low voice. "I'll be ready. But if that really happens, what do you plan to do?"

"The Ministry of Magic needs strength." Ian's voice was firm. "You need to build your own faction within the system. Use the potions I gave you to recruit reliable people and strengthen their magic. Loyalty must be tested over time, not enforced with oaths."

"I know more about politics than you do." She smiled, but did not reject the suggestion.

"Don't get too close to the Order of the Phoenix," he warned. "You can work with them, but don't bring them into your inner circle."

"They're loyal only to Dumbledore."

"Exactly."

After several minutes of silence, Amelia brought up another topic. "Susan will be starting at Hogwarts this year. If you really do return to teach, keep an eye on her for me."

"Of course."

The candlelight swayed, and the conversation gradually turned lighter. By the time dinner ended, the night breeze was stirring the curtains, and the bright moon hung overhead.

Amelia stood at the door, watching the figure walk away.

Flames swallowed him, leaving only a faint glimmer.

On the way back, Ian thought about the door—

World Gate hummed faintly in his mind.

"Time and space will be united, eventually."

"When I return to Hogwarts, this door will truly open."

Moonlight shone in his eyes, reflecting a sharp glint.

At that moment, the line between reason and fervor nearly disappeared.

—Perhaps, on the other side of the world, the birth of a new god was waiting to be welcomed.