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Perhaps he'd been a riddle-spewing enigma since youth, and the only reason he lived past a hundred without someone eventually punching him for it… Was likely thanks to that unmatched power no wizard dared to challenge.
"Laugh all you want now. You won't be smiling later." Ian was full of confidence in his impending victory. He wasn't a gentleman, nor was he someone who'd nobly accept defeat without complaint.
Precisely because of that...
The Patronus Charm would be Ian's ultimate trump card. Call it underhanded if you want, but he didn't care.
Magic power might be capped at nine tiers, but that wasn't the limit of a wizard's potential. Ian had always believed he had just a little more up his sleeve than even ninth-tier wizards, anyone who truly knew him would've seen that coming. Unfortunately, this Albus clearly didn't know Ian at all.
"Confidence is good," Dumbledore said, his voice still easygoing. "But... kid, overconfidence might be your undoing."
He still didn't realize what kind of opponent he was facing.
Chatting casually, the two wizards stepped into the Room of Requirement, which had already reshaped itself according to their unspoken desires. The room pulsed with magic, transforming swiftly into a vast arena: tall stone walls surrounding a wide, empty combat zone in the center.
The ground was covered with soft sand, designed to lessen impact during a duel.
Of course, for wizards, such measures were more symbolic than practical,
But the atmosphere it created certainly fit the scene.
"Ready?"
The two stood at opposite ends of the arena, the distance between them just right.
Each raised their wand, tips pointed lightly at the ground, as if paying respect to this ancient magical space, a traditional pre-duel gesture.
"You're supposed to bow before a duel, you know." Albus smiled, kindly reminding Ian.
He bowed first, leading by example.
However, when he lifted his head, he paused with a confused expression.
"What's with that weird way you're holding your wand…" Dumbledore noticed Ian's unusual stance: he had one hand splayed out, wand awkwardly pinched between his fingers in a flashy and impractical manner.
He'd never seen anyone hold a wand in such a showy, exaggerated way.
"Sorry," Ian said with a casual smirk. "You mentioned bowing, and it reminded me of an old friend."
Despite his words, he made no move to adjust his wand posture.
"To be honest," Albus nodded, "I normally wouldn't bother dueling someone your age."
He didn't catch anything strange in Ian's comment, but his deep, thoughtful gaze remained fixed on him.
"Still, you're clearly an exception. You might look like a First or maybe Second Year, but I can sense something from you... something that makes my heart race a little. That alone makes me curious."
With that, the two wizards completed their bow, and almost simultaneously raised their wands.
"Expelliarmus!"
They cast their Disarming Charms in unison.
But Albus, He didn't aim at Ian at all. He completely ignored the small wizard directly across from him, ignoring Ian's wand aimed squarely at him.
Instead, Dumbledore pointed his wand to the left, toward an empty patch of sand where no one seemed to be.
The red burst of Disarming Magic surged powerfully through the air and collided with something invisible.
There had been two spells, they clashed in midair with a burst of brilliant red light.
The second Disarming Charm, previously hidden, camouflaged in the air, was now clearly visible. Red sparks flew as the two spells collided, like a pair of shooting stars crashing into each other in the sky.
The surrounding air rippled with violent magical energy, the very atmosphere vibrating from the force. Even the soft sand quivered on the ground, as though the earth itself trembled at the sheer intensity of the duel.
"You really are sneaky." Albus chuckled, eyes fixed on the real Ian, whose form had just been revealed.
The version of Ian that he'd previously ignored? That one faded away into mist, a clever illusion.
"Tch, that's the first time someone's ever seen through that move." Ian maintained the output of his magic power, his Disarming Charm pressing forward toward the Albus.
The headmaster of today clearly hadn't yet reached the human limit of magical strength.
And in that regard, Ian had a tremendous advantage.
However, Albus didn't seem nervous at all. Seeing Ian's Disarming Charm bearing down on him, he simply swung his arm sharply, redirecting the spell's force elsewhere.
"BOOOOM!"
A massive section of the viewing stands exploded on impact, debris flying everywhere.
Thankfully, there were no actual spectators, otherwise, they would've been crushed to dust right along with the shattered stone stands.
"If you're mistaking me for the kind of mundane, low-level wizards you've fought before," Said Albus coolly, "You're going to lose badly."
His spellcasting speed was frighteningly fast.
Almost the moment he redirected Ian's magic, he cast again, this time, a surge of crimson fire erupted silently from his wand, rising like a tidal wave as it bore down on Ian.
"Solar Onslaught!"
Ian didn't back down. Even if he'd opened with a bit of trickery, now that the real fight had begun, he showed his true pride. He chose to confront Dumbledore head-on, using the same class of fire magic to clash directly.
And then, Flames met flames in midair.
They collided and intertwined, unleashing a deafening roar and crackling heat, like two furious forces of nature locked in battle.
The fire twisted and danced in the air like a grand fireworks display. Waves of heat rolled outward, warping the very air with scorching intensity. The stone walls of the arena, illuminated by the blaze, looked even more stark and imposing.
"Such overwhelming magic power… it's enough to make someone tremble. Even now, I don't possess magic as innately vast as yours. So... I ask again, answer me seriously."
As the two fires devoured each other in a raging tug-of-war, the outcome slowly became clear. Dumbledore's flames were ultimately overwhelmed, consumed by Ian's burning magic.
Yet, the young man with the exceptional posture and poise didn't seem fazed in the slightest. With his wand in hand, he walked calmly, untouched, out from the inferno Ian had unleashed.
His eyes gleamed with intensity.
Amid the blaze, he looked like a lone skiff on a burning sea.
Teetering, perhaps, But never capsized. Still, always resisting the fire's fury.
"My junior… no, let me think, perhaps I should call you, my apprentice from the future. Are you… an Obscurial who successfully escaped your fate?"
A question meant to shock.
And it did.
When he asked it, Albus's expression turned utterly serious. His gaze, deep and unwavering, locked tightly onto Ian. And honestly, who could blame him for misunderstanding?
After all, as someone whose magical development had been far from normal even from a young age, Dumbledore found it nearly impossible to believe a normal young wizard could possess magic power so much more vast than his own at Ian's age.
As he fought Ian, and felt the terrifying depths of Ian's magic, Dumbledore clearly sensed the difference between a lake and the sea.
Yet he wasn't shaken by it. He didn't even care about the subtle traces and nature of Ian's spellwork.
In this moment,
He cared only about one thing:
Whether Ian's unusual magic power was what he suspected.
A glimmer of hope.
A thread of possibility he could just barely see.
(End of Chapter)