The valley lay in silence, the breeze brushing past gently, setting the grass into a soft rustling murmur. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the canopy, scattering dappled patches of light across the forest floor.
It should have been a scene of pure tranquility. Yet within Ian's heart, there was no peace. Not after he heard that name from the lips of Leonard Dumbledore.
Ariana Dumbledore.
Of all people, Ariana was the one who had accompanied Ian the longest since he arrived in this world. Yet never, not once, had he imagined that he would hear her name in this era!
"You… who did you just say your ancestor was?" Ian's voice trembled, carrying a note of disbelief and unease. His eyes widened so sharply that it seemed they might burst out from their sockets, and it was as though he had just heard something utterly impossible. He had to confirm it with Leonard, he had no choice.
Otherwise, he might start doubting his own ears.
"You're sure? You said Ariana Dumbledore? You didn't misspeak?" He pressed again before Leonard could even respond, enunciating every syllable with an almost desperate clarity.
Such a triggered reaction left Leonard bewildered, and he was unsure as to what to make of it. Merlin, however, turned his gaze sharply toward Ian, his eyes flickering with a probing light while curiosity and calculation stirring within his heart. Ian's abnormal response had not gone unnoticed, and it planted seeds of suspicion in Merlin's mind.
But Ian was far too consumed to care about Merlin's stare. His thoughts spun endlessly around that name, Ariana, so familiar, yet so impossibly out of place here.
"I couldn't possibly be mistaken."
Leonard Dumbledore stood before him, his expression calm yet resolute as he spoke. Upon his shoulder, the phoenix spread its wings ever so slightly, its crimson-gold feathers shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight.
His gaze met Ian's squarely, as he continued to speak in a steady and unwavering voice: "How could I forget my family's lineage? Before our house was destroyed, every ancestor had their portrait preserved."
"I still remember my father taking me to meet them one by one. Ancestor Ariana was shy… her portrait once even reminded me to eat less sugar, or I'd rot my teeth." Leonard's tone carried both the warmth of nostalgia and the sorrow of recalling his father's death.
He had never studied magic, let alone Occlumency. Every flicker of emotion in his heart lay bare before Ian's perception, unshielded and raw.
"…So it really is true."
Inside Ian's head, waves of chaos crashed violently against each other. His throat felt as though something had lodged within it, choking him with a rush of unspeakable emotion.
It was absurd, surreal, and utterly fantastical.
He almost couldn't help but wonder: 'Had he been ambushed within his own tomb, and was everything before him nothing more than a fever-dream illusion spun within his mind?'
The thought clawed at him.
Ian couldn't help raising a hand to rub at his temples, as though pressing his fingers there might calm the storm in his mind. His gaze flicked instinctively toward Merlin, only to find the old mage watching him with a look that was far from casual.
Merlin's eyes had narrowed, carrying a weight of intent. That probing, thoughtful glint seemed to strip away the surface and dig into Ian's very soul, as though he were trying to read some hidden truth in Ian's reaction.
"…It can't be what I think it is… right?" Ian muttered under his breath. He had no idea what Merlin thought he was perceiving, but his own mind was a whirlpool of possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.
"Maybe it's just a coincidence of names."
Drawing a steadying breath, Ian stopped hesitating. His hand slipped into his robes, pulling out his wand. Without another word, he raised it and invoked the magic that could cut through all doubt:
"Expecto Patronum."
If Leonard truly had seen his ancestor's portrait, then this would be the truest test, whether it was mere coincidence or something far deeper.
The world itself seemed to shiver in response to his spell. Silver light flared at the wand's tip, threads of brilliance unraveling into the air like living filaments. They wove themselves together, dancing and twining into a form that began to take shape.
Magic coalesced.
The light threads darted like sprites, weaving faster and faster until they gathered into the outline of a person. A heartbeat later, Ariana, his Ariana, from that Twilight world, stood radiant before them.
Her figure was as delicate and ethereal as moonlight, her entire being suffused with a soft glow that harmonized with the valley around her. Yet she stood out all the same, luminous and undeniable.
And whether by accident or design… her presence changed everything.
The air shifted. The gentle breeze that had whispered through the grass grew restless, gusting harder, rattling the leaves and branches. The sunlight dimmed, as though swallowed, and clouds began to gather slowly overhead, casting a veil of shadow across the valley.
The light was fading, not to utter blackness, but enough to drape the world in unease. Ian tilted his head upward, his expression tightening. He knew this sensation. He had felt something like it before, just days ago, though in truth, it was centuries past, when that brute goddess had bent the sky and the land at will.
But now… now it felt different. Less deliberate, less controlled. Not a divine hand at work, but something else altogether.
Ian's thoughts churned.
Meanwhile, "This… this… what…?"
Merlin's eyes widened, his composure fracturing for the briefest instant. His fingers trembled, half-lifted as if he might speak some word of power, yet none came. He only stared, gaze flicking between Ian and Ariana, as though his mind strained to reconcile the impossible scene before him.
"Ian, you've summoned me again?"
Ariana's voice was soft, lilting, as though carried from a distance. She tilted her head slightly, lips curving into a faint, knowing smile.
"Are you still wandering in the past? Do you need my help again? Hm… this place feels strangely familiar…"
Her words rippled through the valley like the clear trickle of a mountain spring, delicate and serene, yet carrying a resonance that seemed to linger long after the sound itself faded.
As she spoke, Ariana's gaze turned, sweeping curiously over the shadowed valley around them.
And at the very same moment, "I… I don't suppose your ancestors looked like that, did they?"
Ian had intended to use this moment to prove to Leonard that no Dumbledore ancestor could possibly have such a striking, unmistakable face. Yet when he turned his head, what he saw made his words shrivel and die in his throat.
Leonard was staring, staring at Ariana's curious expression, with a look of stunned disbelief on his face.
His silence was louder than any declaration. Sometimes, reality was far more fantastical than fiction.
Thud.
It felt as though a great stone had dropped into Ian's chest, crushing the air out of him. Every word he had prepared to speak stuck fast in his throat.
"Th-this… this is…" Leonard's voice trembled, quivering with uncertainty and awe, as if he were beholding something beyond comprehension. His fingers shook, and even the phoenix on his shoulder sensed its master's storm of emotions, letting out a low, resonant cry.
"Huh? A phoenix?!"
Ariana, only now seeming to notice the creature, covered her mouth in surprise. Whether it was obliviousness or simply her unflappable nature, she looked more startled than alarmed.
And then, the phoenix met her gaze. Its jewel-like eyes blazed bright, and with a clear, melodious cry it shattered the stillness of the valley. Spreading its wings, it took flight from Leonard's shoulder, stirring the air into rippling currents that set his hair and robes streaming around him.
It circled Ariana slowly, deliberately. Its feathers shimmered like flowing fire, every beat of its wings resonating with the starlight that clung to her form.
(To Be Continued…)
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