This is a glorious history.
However, in a sudden turn of the scene, Caesar falls under Brutus's dagger, his blood staining the Senate floor red, and the Empire's destiny is rewritten in this moment.
The scene is changing.
Just like traveling by carriage, the traveler always sees different landscapes—a dim underground catacomb, candlelight flickering. A group of Christians kneel devoutly in prayer, their faces reflecting their persistence in faith. Despite the oppressive environment, their eyes are firm and filled with hope.
"What time in history is this?" Ian watched the scene, a complex emotion rising in his heart, filled with admiration for their faith and curiosity about the religious atmosphere of that era.
The scene continues to flow.
Emperor Constantine stands in the square of Milan, holding up the "Edict of Milan". Sunlight glints off his armor, reflecting dazzling radiance.
His voice echoes through the skies.
"From this day forth, the people of Christ shall no longer be persecuted!" The crowd in the square erupts in cheers, and banners adorned with the cross flutter in the wind as if symbolizing the rise of Christianity.
As the scene changes, beacon fires blaze atop the city walls, soldiers' wails mingling with the cries of the people, the sun on the day the barbarians breached Rome's walls is the color of blood scabs.
These are great events in history.
In addition.
Ian also witnessed the stories belonging to the wizards.
A Holy Mother cradling a newborn, surrounded by shepherds and the Three Wise Men in worship, he could hear the baby's breath and feel the gaze, crossing reality and illusion, directed at him.
"Oh my!"
The recently ascended legend, feeling a tingling on his scalp, quickly averted his gaze, and in the depths of a dark forest, Ian peered at a group of robed wizards.
They circled a bonfire, conducting an ancient ritual, twelve wizards hunting a white dragon on a lunar eclipse night, only to fall, forever stalling at the threshold of legend.
A gigantic evil dragon ravages the city-states.
Ian saw it, saw the flames spewing from its mouth illuminating the night sky, and saw when the sword soaked in dragon blood was pulled from the giant dragon's body, the stardust embedded in the hilt cutting into the boy's palm.
"Fine, fine, fine! Ironclad evidence is right before my eyes!" Ian's pupils reflected the images of time, as he hurriedly took out a camera to capture that familiar face.
Yet.
In the time passage.
No matter how he pressed the shutter of the magic camera, he could not capture the scene before him. The undeterred little wizard also tried a Muggle camera, to no avail.
Magic, technology.
Seemed to lose effect in this passage.
"My memory is also ironclad evidence!"
Ian had no choice but to rely on his brain to remember what he saw. Though he had previously guessed, obtaining actual proof felt different from merely realizing things through Sherlock Holmes-like insight.
Just as Ian mentally switched his memory to "super high-definition" mode, the power of time wrapping him, Riddle, and Malfoy began to wane.
"Arrived already? So soon? I haven't seen the four founders yet." Ian felt a slight regret at the rapid pace of reaching the destination.
As the ethereal light and shadow began to solidify.
Ian took a deep breath.
He began preparing in his mind for what to say upon returning to Hogwarts. Riddle seemed to sense the time passage's fading, finally raising his head with a slightly tense expression.
As for Mr. Malfoy... he lay unconscious like a dead man. Due to some lasting influence from Helbo's transformation, Ian could not find a way to awaken this unfortunate classmate.
"Leave it to Dumbledore, he always sorts out these troubles, though it might be tough on Dumbledore, Malfoy will survive." Ian prepared to assume his student role once more.
That indeed required some psychological adjustment. After all, he had recently been involved in matters of gods, legend, Helbo, saving the world and such, and now he immediately had to resume being a student fretting over classes and exams, such a shift in roles could be considered magical for anyone.
As the little wizard adjusted his mindset.
The illusory scenery gradually settled.
However.
When the overlapping illusions around slowly resolved into clear reality, the expected warm office didn't appear, and Ian's smile gradually froze on his face.
"What is going on here?"
Ian was dumbfounded.
He didn't see familiar people, nor familiar scenes, only the oinking sounds of a pig and the odor of decaying straw and pig manure filled the air.
Indeed.
They found themselves in a foul-smelling pigsty!
Pink piglets were nuzzling Malfoy's blonde hair with their wet snouts, and Riddle, bound by magic chains like a mummy, lay rolled in the mud pit—a boar was eagerly rubbing against his pale face.
"Damn it! Get it away! Get away from me!" Riddle let out a sharp screech, perhaps even more terrified than when facing Helbo.
The reason was simple.
He saw the boar's tusks glinting coldly in the dim light, more than that, the boar's snout had pushed aside Riddle's robe, raising things that shouldn't have been raised.
This pig.
Seemed to have developed some strange interest in the great Black Demon King!