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The youthful-looking Arthur King tossed out a teasing remark before vanishing around the corner ahead. Ian's expression shifted immediately, and he sprinted after him, only to find the corridor ahead empty.
"Where is he?!"
Ian's eyes scanned the long, dimly lit corridor stretching toward the library. Just moments ago, the alchemy professor had been right in front of him, yet he had disappeared without a trace. It was as if he had melted into the air upon turning the corner; not even a glimpse of his robes lingered in Ian's vision.
"Apparition? That's impossible— Hogwarts forbids it!" Ian stared at the silent passageway, unease creeping into his thoughts.
Yet it wasn't just Arthur King's sudden disappearance that unsettled him. What truly gnawed at Ian was the parting words the professor had left behind, just before vanishing:
"But you may not be pleased... Do you recall when I offered to help you? Haha, now that I think about it, do you regret turning me down?"
Arthur King had indeed made such an offer before, but it should have happened later, after Ian found himself caught in the loop. Specifically, it should have taken place hours from now, when Ian would be deep in his research on the Resurrection Stone within the library.
Two fateful paths would cross.
And then, fearing that the alchemy professor might covet the Deathly Hallows, Ian had refused his aid—a decision that, by all logic, had yet to be made in this timeline.
Yet somehow, Arthur King already knew.
Back then, Ian had assumed the professor's cryptic reference to an alchemical dilemma was connected to the Resurrection Stone, the object he had been painstakingly researching. But now, the truth was clear— Arthur King hadn't been speaking of the Resurrection Stone at all.
The Mark of Slytherin.
A powerful alchemical creation.
Perhaps this enigmatic professor had already foreseen Ian's plight— understood that it would be the Mark of Slytherin's Ouroboros that would ensnare him in this repeating cycle. Had Arthur King known all along what was to come?
The more Ian considered it, the more certain he became.
"This man is not what he seems." His suspicions had been growing ever since discovering that extra note, but now, with the professor's eerie knowledge of events that had yet to transpire, the truth was undeniable—it was as if a werewolf had exposed its fangs under the full moon.
Within the confines of this time loop...
How could Arthur King possibly know of conversations that had not yet taken place? And, more chillingly, why did he speak as if they were already in the past?
Arthur King.
He had already lived through the encounter that Ian was supposed to experience hours later.
"He's like me... outside the loop." Ian's mind reeled at the implications. "Could he have sensed my predicament and followed me into this fragment of fate Dumbledore spoke of?"
It was the only explanation that made sense.
The idea that such a shadowy figure could lurk undetected within Hogwarts was nearly unfathomable. After all, not even Albus Dumbledore or Grindelwald— two of the greatest wizards to ever live had noticed Ian's entrapment in this repeating cycle.
Yet this man, a professor so unremarkable that he scarcely seemed to exist within the pages of history, had recognized it in an instant?
Who would believe that, in this age, there existed a wizard whose perception surpassed even that of Albus Dumbledore and Grindelwald?
It was simply inconceivable.
It was completely absurd and so bizarre that it felt almost unreal.
"Things that shouldn't happen have happened; there must be some special reason for it." Ian's mind was racing, and bold theories were forming rapidly.
So secretive, so enigmatic, and his motives unclear. It was as if he and Ian were in the same precarious state as You-Know-Who. He could not possibly be just an ordinary professor residing at Hogwarts.
Otherwise...
How else could Voldemort have evaded capture through seven books, nearly taking control of Hogwarts in the final battle? Ian certainly didn't recall this alchemy professor making any notable contribution among the staff who had resisted.
"Perhaps… could it really be as I suspect?"
Ian wasted no time pursuing Quirrell, who had been blasted apart in the secret passage. Instead, he pulled out the Marauder's Map, scanned it quickly, and immediately sprinted towards the headmaster's office.
"To think he'd act so smug in front of me, leaving behind a cryptic warning, and still have the audacity to lounge about in the library."
Ian saw that Arthur King's name hadn't disappeared from the map; on the contrary, the professor was still sauntering around the library as if nothing had happened. With that, Ian sought out Albus Dumbledore.
Perhaps sensing the gravity of the situation, Ian also roped in Gellert Grindelwald, who had been enjoying a leisurely lunch in the Great Hall. Of course, he provided both professors with a quick explanation of his suspicions.
"Tsk, tsk. This little scamp is playing games with us, isn't he?"
Grindelwald and Dumbledore followed Ian, who strode into the library like a child dragging his formidable uncles to deal with a schoolyard troublemaker.
"There he is!"
Ian caught sight of the seemingly unbothered alchemy professor, absorbed in a biography at a bookshelf in the public reading area.
The two centenarian wizards held their wands at the ready, but neither seemed eager to act rashly, especially since the person Ian had accused was a current Hogwarts professor.
"Mr. Prince, are you certain that Professor King said these things to you?"
Dumbledore's goal was to assess the situation and, if necessary, discreetly use Legilimency on the professor, who no longer had the protection of an "underage immunity charm."
However, the old headmaster had clearly not anticipated that the young wizard would also draw his wand.
"I am absolutely certain, Headmaster Dumbledore! I'm only eleven— how could my hearing be faulty?" Ian stated decisively, his eyes sharp.
"Expelliarmus!"
Without hesitation, Ian cast the spell. A bolt of red light shot toward the seemingly oblivious alchemy professor, who had no time to react.
Arthur King's wand soared into the air, and not only that— every object on him that could remotely be considered a weapon was disarmed, including his robes and even the ring on his finger.
"Who— who attacked me?!"
Arthur King stood there, momentarily stunned, before realizing his predicament. Now left in nothing but his undergarments, his face twisted in horror as he scrambled to cover himself, letting out a shrill, panicked cry.
"Apologies, Arthur…"
Albus Dumbledore swiftly restrained Ian, who looked ready to fire another spell. Stepping forward from the shadows, the headmaster regarded Ian with an expression that was difficult to read.
Clearly.
The old headmaster found himself momentarily speechless at Ian's rather unconventional use of the Disarming Charm.
"Someone attacked me! Headmaster! I was ambushed!" Arthur King looked thoroughly flustered, scrambling behind Albus Dumbledore as if seeking refuge. His eyes darted around wildly, uncertain whether he was using Dumbledore as a shield or simply trying to preserve what little dignity he had left.
"It's just a bit of youthful mischief; I apologize on his behalf."
Dumbledore's expression was rather peculiar as his gaze met Arthur King's frantic eyes.
"You certainly have some nerve, little one."
Grindelwald remained in the shadows, but with a flick of his wrist, he summoned the alchemy professor's wand, which had landed atop a bookshelf.
"Tsk tsk, Acacia wood… Thestral tail hair…" Grindelwald murmured, turning the wand between his fingers, examining its craftsmanship. Just as the younger wizards were about to ask if he had discovered anything—
"No magic in the library! For Merlin's sake— why is it you, Headmaster, are you the one leading the charge in breaking the rules?!"
Madam Pince had stormed over at the commotion, her face like thunder. Dumbledore turned to offer an explanation, but her tirade was abruptly cut short.
"Thud~"
Whoever said age diminishes one's ability to sleep clearly hadn't met Madam Pince.
She had collapsed mid-sentence.
"…"
Not only was Dumbledore momentarily stunned, but even Ian felt that perhaps Grindelwald had been a bit too heavy-handed. When he turned to look, Grindelwald had already tucked his wand neatly back into his robes.
"I only used a Sleeping Charm, I know my limits," Grindelwald said casually, still fiddling with Arthur King's wand. He had attempted to cast a spell with it just now but had found himself unable to do so.
Otherwise…
(To Be Continued…)