Three years ago.
Ian had only recently graduated from Hogwarts when he returned from Egypt, carrying stolen ancient books and runes. Those books came from the secret vaults of wizarding noble families, and almost all of them concerned the Afterlife.
He had repeatedly pondered this: if he wanted to bring his family and Lily Potter back, he first had to find the place where souls went.
And judging from Harry Potter's return after being killed by Voldemort, there truly was some kind of "other shore" beyond death.
So he decided to verify it himself.
He first concocted an extremely rare potion—the "False Death Potion." After drinking it, his heart and magic would almost completely stop, putting him into a state resembling death.
Then he took out an Egyptian scarab—a symbol of Resurrection, regarded by the ancients as a guide to the realm of the dead.
Using an Alchemical Array, he bound part of his soul to the scarab. He was not making a Horcrux, but establishing a "recall passage."
When his soul drifted into the Afterlife, the scarab would serve as an anchor and pull him back to reality.
Late that night, he ordered a House-elf to stand guard beside him. If he did not awaken after three hours, the elf was to inject the antidote immediately.
Ian drank the potion. The world instantly plunged into white light.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a vast white room—
There were no boundaries between the four walls, and the floor was smooth as a mirror. Familiar traces floated in the air: magic, consciousness, and the echoes of souls.
Unlike the King's Cross Station Harry had seen back then, this place was more like his laboratory.
A chill swept over him.
A tall, blurry figure emerged from the Void, draped in a pitch-black cloak. It had no face, and its voice was like a cold wind piercing the bones.
"What an interesting wizard. You actually dared to enter this place of your own accord?"
Ian answered calmly, "It seems you are—Death."
"People often call me that." The figure slowly looked down at him. "Aren't you afraid?"
"Afraid?" Ian smiled faintly. "Fear comes from ignorance. I merely want to understand."
"Understand death?" The voice seemed to smile, yet not smile. "Wizards throughout the ages have tried. Some yearned for immortality, while others foolishly dreamed of conquering me. But after seeing me, every one of them became afraid."
"They were afraid because you control life and death." Ian's tone remained steady. "But in truth, you are merely the incarnation of a law. Death does not rule life; it only maintains balance."
The black figure trembled slightly and fell silent for a moment.
"How do you know?"
"It's very simple." Ian raised his head, his tone carrying a hint of composure. "If you could truly take lives at will, then why did you need to use the Deathly Hallows to lure the Peverell Brothers to their deaths?
"That proves it—you must follow some kind of rule. You cannot actively interfere with the living. You can only guide their souls after they die."
The air suddenly turned cold.
The black cloak billowed like a silent storm.
"You dare mock me?"
"Not mock you." Ian's expression remained calm. "It's merely a logical deduction. Besides, you just admitted it yourself."
Death's aura abruptly froze, and its voice sank low. "You are more interesting than those foolish mortals."
Then its tone shifted. "But do you think I am helpless? I cannot touch you, but I can touch them."
As soon as the words fell, the white space suddenly transformed.
Two familiar figures appeared before Ian—his parents.
They floated quietly in the air, their eyes closed and their expressions peaceful.
With a wave of Death's hand, the pure-white world became a deep-red sea of flames.
Countless souls shrieked amid the flames as the two figures were slowly pushed deeper into the inferno.
"As the gatekeeper of the realm of the dead, I can decide their fate.
"Your choice will determine whether they sleep peacefully or burn forever in Hell."
The flames reflected in Ian's pupils, yet his expression remained utterly unmoved.
"You want to threaten me with emotion?"
He said mildly, "That actually confirms my judgment—you are not omnipotent.
"If you truly were an absolute 'law,' why would you need to torment others to gain an advantage in negotiation?"
The black figure's aura stalled, and the flames roiled with it.
"You..."
Ian took a step forward, his voice cold and clear like metal scraping against metal. "You are merely a system that maintains order, like time, gravity, and fate.
"I have no intention of challenging the law. I only want to understand it. Once I understand it, I will rewrite it."
The sea of flames suddenly fell still. White light appeared once more.
Death stared at him for a long while, then suddenly let out a low laugh. "Rewrite the law? That is humanity's most dangerous desire.
"Remember, wizard. The more you understand, the closer you come to me."
As the words faded, the world shattered.
Ian suddenly opened his eyes and found himself lying on the laboratory table.
The antidote bottle in the House-elf's hand was already empty. His chest rose and fell faintly, and his heart had begun beating again.
The scarab on the table had already crumbled into ash.
A trace of cold still lingered in the air, as if that existence had never truly gone far.
He slowly sat up and wrote the final line of his experiment report in a straight hand:
"Death truly exists.
"It is not a god, but the mask of order.
"And I will use reason to strip away that mask."
The ink had not yet dried when he set down his quill, his expression calm.
At that moment, he no longer feared death.
Because he had seen it—and returned from it.
Before you continue