In the following days, Aiden watched his three ancestors eagerly preparing to explore the newly founded Hogwarts.
"Sir, let me tell you, recently wizards have been spreading word that four legendary wizards have built a tower in the Scottish Highlands to teach magic. We're planning to try our luck there," Elvis said with confident enthusiasm.
"By the way, sir, our last meeting was hasty. We haven't asked for your name yet," Iris inquired with polite curiosity.
"Well, you may call me the Visionary," Aiden said with meaningful weight.
"Regarding your journey to the tower, I approve. After all, you need some experienced wizards to systematically teach you how to use magic properly," Aiden explained.
"So we can join other organizations?" Sean asked with genuine surprise.
"Why not..." Aiden was about to speak when he suddenly remembered the vast time gap between them.
"Well, we are a loose organization. As long as you don't violate the organization's founding principles, I don't object to you having your own lives," Aiden said diplomatically.
"You are truly magnanimous, sir," Elvis said with obvious flattery.
Don't call me sir; you're my ancestor! Aiden's toes were practically digging out a three-bedroom apartment from pure embarrassment.
Pfft. This was the system, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
"Ahem, is there anything else?" Aiden asked, trying to regain his composure.
"Nothing more. Does the Visionary have any other instructions?" Iris asked respectfully.
"Then let's end here," Aiden said, lightly tapping the table as the three were sent out of the church.
"Their time is different from yours," the system observed with sympathy.
"There's nothing I can do about it," Aiden leaned back in his chair, his voice somewhat melancholy.
"You've really worked hard," a gentle female voice said unexpectedly.
"Ha, what are you say..." Aiden turned around in confusion.
"Ding." A clear and pleasant bell sound rang out, and Aiden fell into darkness.
1994, British Ministry of Magic
The Director, returning wounded from the Deep Realm, rushed desperately to the Time Room.
"Phew, almost didn't make it in time," the Director muttered, casually tearing off a piece of clothing to bandage his bleeding wound.
He made his way to the Time Room, where Oliver and several Unspeakables were already waiting anxiously.
"Director, Aiden, he..." Oliver asked with urgent concern.
"Ah, it's fine, it's fine," the Director waved his hand dismissively.
"You few come with me. We need to retrieve a large object from inside the regression pendulum," the Director ordered with authority.
Following the Director forward, they unlocked several complex seals, revealing the twilight pendulum in all its temporal glory.
"Work together, use more strength, or we might not be able to drag him out," the Director warned, raising his wand as a silver-white chain passed through the pendulum's membrane into the swirling time sand.
The chain searched around in the golden particles, seemingly looking for something specific.
Suddenly, the chain touched an object and snapped taut with tension. The Director turned back to the others behind him.
"What are you standing there for? Help me!"
Several Unspeakables also extended magical chains toward the Director's position.
With everyone's combined effort, a figure frozen in golden amber was slowly pulled out of the temporal field.
"Aiden?" Oliver exclaimed, seeing the familiar form encased in the amber.
"Isn't he... this... how is that...?" The surprised Oliver was somewhat incoherent with shock.
"He was sent to the past and returned to the present through temporal preservation here," the Director explained matter-of-factly.
"Then how do we wake him up?" Oliver asked anxiously.
"That's simple," the Director showed a mischievous smile.
"Diffindo." A precise Severing Charm broke open the amber around Aiden's frozen form.
"Hah..." Aiden, emerging from the amber cocoon, gasped heavily for air.
"Hmm? I'm back?" Seeing Oliver's familiar face, Aiden immediately understood he was finally home.
"Quick, quick, collect this amber! This substance formed from special magical power mixed with time sand has extremely high research value," an excited voice interrupted Aiden's intended reunion.
"You know, you're not as irritable and impulsive as you were in the past," Aiden observed, raising an eyebrow.
"After all, I can't show that kind of attitude in front of good friends," the Director replied with surprising coolness.
"Forget it, I'm too tired to argue with you about this. How's the situation with Entropy?"
"It was taken away by some unknown entity and has disappeared to who knows what era. We barely managed to feel our way back from the crossroads of time and space," the Director recalled the previous events with lingering fear.
"Alright, since everything's been handled, I'll head back first," Aiden said, nodding to both men.
Returning to the Prewett ancestral home, Astoria was still unconscious, recovering from her ordeal.
Aiden shook his head sadly and quietly closed the door for her.
He came to the living room, collapsed onto the familiar sofa, and Sibby brought him a refreshing glass of lemon juice.
Too much had happened during this extraordinary time. He needed some quiet moments to sort through everything.
But when he closed his eyes and leaned against the sofa, a phoenix's melodic cry sounded outside the window once again.
Knock knock. The door of the Prewett ancestral home was knocked upon. Aiden was already beginning to regret revealing the ancestral home's address to Dumbledore.
With a weary wave of his hand, the door opened, and Dumbledore walked in with measured steps.
Seeing the exhausted youth collapsed on the sofa, Dumbledore suppressed all his burning questions.
"It seems you really need a good rest, Aiden," Dumbledore said with gentle concern.
"Hmm, I never thought we had already met in the past, Professor. So when you first met me, you weren't surprised by my abilities at all. Or were those words you said actually meant to comfort Aunt Molly and the others?"
Aiden's body sank deeper into the sofa. If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, Dumbledore might have thought he had simply expired from exhaustion.
"Yes. Speaking of which, you're also someone with a certain destiny. Um, sorry, when you get old you start believing in these mystical things," Dumbledore said, choosing a comfortable place to sit down.
"What else do you need to tell me, Professor?" Aiden asked with weary resignation.
"I'll try to keep this brief. Aiden, your journey to the past was part of history's inevitable cycle. If I'm not mistaken, you'll go back again. Your past actions created our present reality. I can't tell you too much about other things."
Dumbledore's eyes seemed to hold deep guilt, whether for his own necessary concealment or for that prophet atop the tower.
"Alright, Professor, no need for apologies. I already have some general idea of what's coming," Aiden waved his hand with casual acceptance.
"It's good that you're mentally prepared. I've disturbed your rest today. Sleep well," Dumbledore said, standing up gracefully. The phoenix outside had been waiting patiently for quite some time.
Aiden returned to his room, fell onto his comfortable bed, and sank into deep, dreamless sleep.
Meanwhile, within the Department of Mysteries, Oliver was reporting the day's disturbing observations to the Director.
"Director, I suspect those entities below might be developing genuine intelligence," Oliver said, his expression grave with concern.
"Tell me your thoughts," the Director gestured for Oliver to sit down.
"After Aiden contacted the Deep Realm King's believers, they were obviously being controlled, but they used coherent language with purpose."
Oliver recalled those obscure, alien words, and a nauseating feeling surged up from his stomach.
"Don't try to remember those words. Things related to the Deep Realm Kings are highly corrupting to human minds," the Director warned, his wand emitting purifying white light.
After a while, Oliver recovered and continued his disturbing report.
"They showed a kind of malice toward Aiden, very pure and focused hatred."
"Hmm, I'll record this matter carefully. Perhaps our exploration of the Deep Realm Kings is still too superficial, or perhaps..."
The Director looked up at the ceiling with growing dread.
"We ants simply aren't worthy of awakening their true intelligence... is that it."
After speaking those chilling words, the office fell into very heavy, oppressive silence.