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Mornings at Hogwarts were usually very peaceful.
For nearly a thousand years, they had also been exceptionally clean, thanks to the diligent caretakers; every corner of the castle could practically pass a Ministry-level inspection on any given day.
Such a comfortable environment was truly a blessing to live in. But accidents strike suddenly, and today, in the Ravenclaw dormitory wing, centuries of order were about to be shattered.
Inside the dorm where Lirim lived, the ceiling suddenly split open, and immediately, a torrent of yellow liquid poured down like a waterfall. The acrid stench filled the entire room in an instant.
Fortunately, Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel had reacted in advance: they had stepped outside the dormitory and instantly cast spells to seal off the flood inside.
Had they not, the entire Ravenclaw common room, perhaps even all of Hogwarts, might have been drowned. After all, as the sudden voice had shouted: two thousand years of accumulation was no small amount!
Out in the corridor, keeping safely away from the foul waters gushing inside, Dumbledore and Flamel stood tense, eyes fixed on the scene beyond.
They hadn't truly known what was coming, only that danger was near. Their instincts had saved them. But even with all their vast knowledge and experience, the sight before them left them utterly dumbstruck.
"What on earth…?" Nicolas Flamel gasped, eyes wide with shock.
"Uh…"
Dumbledore's face twisted into something indescribable. He stared into the room, sniffed the air, and his expression grew stranger and stranger.
"Oh! No! This smell--!?"
Flamel, too, began to realize what had happened.
The two men could hardly believe it.
'Merlin… Merlin had actually done something like this?!'
This was juist too vile! Too inhuman! Too disgusting!
"Ian…" Flamel glanced into the dorm with pity.
The outer corridor was protected, but the dormitory itself was ruined. The flood had swallowed everything: beds, desks, chairs, all tossed about in the current. And poor Ian had no choice but to wade in that yellow, steaming, suffocating "aged brew."
"DAMN YOU, MERLIN!!" Ian roared.
And of course, for such a thing to happen, the culprit's identity was obvious. Who else but Merlin would attack him in this way?
Ian looked up, following the mocking laughter above. There, crouched in the crack of the ceiling, was Merlin, appearing as a little boy, briskly shaking himself off after finishing his business.
The entire flood now filling the room was his doing!
"No wonder it's still hot!" Ian was utterly speechless at Merlin's shamelessness. At a glance, he could already tell that Merlin had modified his own body with magic, just like Voldemort once did.
However, unlike Voldemort, who twisted his body with magic purely in pursuit of power, Merlin had chosen instead to use magic to craft for himself… a super bladder! A modification that offered virtually no advantage in combat whatsoever.
For the sake of avenging the psychological trauma Ian had inflicted upon him more than a thousand years ago, Merlin had hoarded centuries' worth of waste inside his own body!
What terrifying willpower and discipline! But of course, it also revealed just how deeply the spell Ian had once used had scarred Merlin's heart.
Otherwise, why would he remember it for two thousand years, only to time his revenge with such precision?
"With that kind of willpower, no wonder you succeed at everything you do, oh--" Ian remarked, drifting helplessly through the sea of "aged brew." His expression showed no real anger, only a kind of rueful admiration.
"I've been waiting far too long for this day," Merlin said, finally "closing the gates." He had no choice, if he didn't stop, the flood would soon rise high enough to engulf even the ceiling where he stood.
That was the thing about psychological trauma: Merlin refused to let even a single drop of his own discharge touch him. Ever since that incident, he had grown into a most peculiar kind of clean freak.
Yes, that one rain Ian had once unleashed upon him was seared into his memory, leaving behind an enormous psychological shadow he could never escape.
How to put it, perhaps only Ian could even partially understand. But not fully. Only Merlin himself knew how much effort it had taken to purge the infection and lingering side effects left in his body from that one "rain." The viruses that Ian had spoken of were vicious beyond belief.
And that was no exaggeration.
Even now, Merlin felt Ian had been modest in describing them. Those filthy viruses were so sinister that Merlin even suspected Ian had magically altered them!
Since there were magical modifications for animals and humans, then surely it was possible to magically engineer viruses and bacteria as well. No normal alchemist would ever research something so twisted, but in the hands of Raven! In Ian's hands! Merlin was convinced his judgment was correct. To fight Ian, he knew that magic-versus-magic could never succeed.
After all, when Ian transformed, he possessed immunity to magic itself. That was why this operation, this grotesque act of revenge, was the only path Merlin believed could restore his pride.
"Well? Do you see now how utterly revolting this is?" Merlin looked down from above at Ian, drifting amid the "Yellow River." A surge of unprecedented satisfaction swelled in his chest.
Sure enough, The pleasure of vengeance, after two thousand years of waiting, was intoxicating. His obsession had finally been fulfilled, and Merlin, relaxed and gloating, let down his guard for the first time.
He didn't notice that Ian's expression had remained calm from beginning to end. Ian simply floated with the current, not even attempting to break free.
"I'll just say this… Archmage Merlin, you're still far too kind. You didn't dare put poison in your own bladder." Ian even gave him a look of disappointment, as though offering advice.
"???????"
Merlin never expected Ian to say something like that and his expression froze in utter bewilderment.
He had no idea how to respond.
And just then, "Archmage, since you don't play fair, don't blame me! As the saying goes… an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth! You will pay in pain for stealing my signature technique!"
Ian suddenly roared. In the next instant, his entire body, soaking in the "pool", swelled grotesquely as though waterlogged, ballooning rapidly before Merlin's very eyes.
"!!!"
Merlin's face drained of color.
Sensing danger, he tried to Apparate on the spot, pulling a classic "Merlin the Runner." But to his horror, his magic faltered, interrupted for a fraction of a second, just long enough to cost him his escape.
BOOM!
Ian exploded.
Like a bursting rubber bladder, the detonation was deafening and overwhelming. The shockwave churned the centuries-old flood into a surging tide, splattering filth in all directions, straight back onto Merlin himself.
And that wasn't all.
The air filled with an even fouler stench, the unmistakable "Oh-lee-give" smell. Yellow-brown sludge, mixed with the floodwater, spattered across Merlin's body.
"Cough! Cough!" Merlin hadn't even processed what was happening before the blast wave hit him. His hair shot upright from the force, and he tumbled straight off the ceiling into the very pool he had unleashed.
But of course, That wasn't even the most terrifying part. The true horror was that his body was now drenched in filth, utterly defiled. And who knew how many nasty "extras" that Ian had mixed into it?
"No!!"
Merlin's scalp tingled, his heart trembling.
"I'm done for! Really done for!!"
Acting on pure instinct, Merlin immediately cast a spell, banishing the entire Yellow River flood along with Ian's post-explosion sludge to some unlucky place far, far away.
(To Be Continued…)