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Now that the knot had loosened, he naturally began to reveal the pains and doubts he had never confessed to anyone.
Ian's response was straightforward:
"Heh. If the Merlin none of us have ever seen was really stronger than you, then he should be the one surviving to this day. Instead, what happened? He's reduced to a casual side note in a Raven's story: 'Oh yeah, I killed him.'"
"I don't know what ordeal you're hiding, and I understand that you wouldn't tell me even if I asked. But think about it. If it had been the other so-called Merlin, chances are he wouldn't have made it as far as you. Forget running around Hogwarts; he'd probably already be lying dead with his legs in the air."
As an outsider, Ian could judge objectively. To be blunt, anyone who'd survived years of the Raven pecking his crotch without completely breaking down? He could only respect the Merlin standing before him.
Ian's heartfelt words hit Merlin hard; they shook him to his core. He stood frozen for a long time before slowly coming back to himself.
"You're right. Why shouldn't I be the greatest Merlin?" Merlin suddenly laughed. Confidence surged through him again, and, in that moment, he once more seemed every inch the legendary wizard of myth.
Before Ian could respond, Merlin waved his hand, and the memory-scape shifted at lightning speed.
The seasons whirled before Ian's eyes: spring's tender greens, summer's lush growth, Cho Chang's golden autumn, and winter's silver frost, endlessly cycling.
In the flow of the seasons, the Merlin of memory gradually grew into a tall, upright young man.
"In the monotonous days of training, there isn't much to hide that you want to know. What follows, I believe, is the true key to the answers you're searching for." Perhaps as repayment for Ian's words, Merlin skipped over the tedious parts and revealed the crucial information Ian sought.
Then, the memory stabilized.
Ian saw that the young Merlin had raised many magical creatures in the forest. By now, the place had become a veritable paradise for them.
Merlin strolled leisurely beneath the trees, surrounded on all sides by magical beasts. A towering unicorn affectionately nuzzled his shoulder. Its snowy-white coat shimmered with a gentle light in the sunlight, and the golden horn on its forehead radiated an aura of mystery.
"Shy girl, come here. Give me a hug."
Merlin smiled softly, stroking the unicorn's neck, murmuring under his breath as if in secret communion with it. Off in the distance, a thunderbird swooped down from the sky to land before him, letting out a clear, melodious cry.
Merlin chuckled as he pulled a large slab of beef from his pocket and offered it to the Thunderbird. Not far away, a few Nifflers joyfully dug through the grass, searching for glittering trinkets dropped by Winky.
Their long, flexible snouts sniffed back and forth along the ground. Once they found something shiny, they eagerly clawed it free.
"You raised all these magical creatures yourself?" Ian asked, his tone tinged with surprise.
Merlin nodded, a faint gleam of pride in his expression. "Yes, they're companions I met here in the forest. They kept me company through many lonely years."
Watching Merlin interact with the creatures, Ian couldn't suppress his awe. He could feel just how deeply Merlin cared for them and just how much the creatures trusted him.
Their magical affinity was on par with Newt Scamander's, no, perhaps even greater, as Merlin could truly speak with the creatures. The Raven had indeed chosen well; this was a "hexagonal warrior" destined to become Merlin.
"And the Raven?"
Ian searched the scene for it.
After walking deeper into the woods, the young Merlin stopped before a massive tree. A handful of bowtruckles were busily rearranging the leaves, their nimble little bodies darting effortlessly between the branches.
"Come down here."
At his call, the bowtruckles abandoned their work and gathered around him, their tiny eyes blinking curiously.
"Today, you'll be learning, too." Perhaps influenced by the Raven's fondness for lecturing, the young Merlin slipped into the role of teacher.
He picked up a leaf and demonstrated how to weave it into a delicate nest. The Bowtruckles watched intently, chittering and chirping as if discussing the lesson.
Beside Ian, the Merlin of the present day, who was casting this memory, spoke softly as he watched his younger self:
"This was the last time I ever saw you."
He still saw Ian and the Raven as one and the same.
Then, as Merlin spoke, the Raven staggered into view from the distance. Its flight was swift but unsteady, and its movements were odd and unnatural.
Ian immediately noticed that the Raven's eyes had turned scarlet.
"What's wrong with you?"
In the memory, young Merlin's face filled with alarm as he rushed forward.
"This will be the last time I come to see you. Soon, you'll be free. Aren't you happy?" The Raven perched on a branch, its crimson eyes unsettling to behold.
"Are you...about to die?"
Merlin's youthful face twisted with worry.
The Raven said nothing.
After a pause, it replied, "Just... overstuffed."
Its reply was curt and unpleasant.
The young Merlin instantly trembled. This time, however, the Raven did not attack. Instead, its tone dropped low and became serious and grave.
"I have something I need to entrust to you. Before the last fairy tale begins, at the time I mentioned, take this feather to the shop I told you about."
With that, a cascade of shimmering light appeared around the Raven, colors swirling and converging onto a single feather. With a gentle flick, the feather floated down into the young Merlin's hand, glowing with radiant light.
"What is attached to this?"
The young Merlin seemed to sense something unusual.
The feather was beautiful.
Yet it made his heart pound, his fear surge, and his limbs tremble.
"You'll figure it out."
The Raven did not answer, only shook its head with a weary voice.
"Where are you going?"
This time, the young Merlin asked a different question.
This time, the Raven did not refuse to answer.
"I am going to challenge the impossible."
After speaking, the Raven spread its wings and flew away without hesitation. Merlin stood there holding the fallen feather and staring blankly while the surrounding magical creatures scattered.
They dared not come near, filled with unease and terror.
"What did the Raven give you?"
In that moment, Ian leaned closer to the young Merlin within the memory magic. However, he found that he could not grasp the feather in Merlin's memory.
In other memories, however, he could touch objects as if they were real.
"Huh?"
Ian turned to look at Merlin in surprise.
"If I had discovered this earlier in my youth, perhaps I wouldn't have accepted your challenge and fallen into your trap." Merlin said, glancing at Ian's waist with a hint of wistfulness.
Ian seemed to realize something.
"I see!"
He gripped his wand tightly.
If he was right, the feather the Raven had given Merlin was perhaps the core of his own wand. That would explain why Merlin was so certain he was the Raven, even over a thousand years ago.
It also explained why Merlin had to operate under the Ollivander identity.
"Have you figured out what is attached to the feather?" Ian asked curiously; after all, it concerned his own wand. Clearly, the Raven had entrusted an unusual feather.
In response, Merlin did not speak cryptically. He spoke slowly and solemnly.
"We all know that the Elder Wand of the Deathly Hallows has long been considered the strongest wand, but that was before your wand was born."
He gazed at the wand in Ian's hand, his expression heavy with meaning.
"Uh... I don't think it's amplified my power much." Ian had never used the Elder Wand before, and after examining his own wand repeatedly, he felt that it was not as miraculous as the legends claimed.
"That's only because you haven't yet reached the level capable of unleashing its true power." Merlin answered. However, the response was clearly beyond what Ian had expected.
"Even for a legend, that's not enough?"
Ian was astonished.
"Yes."
Merlin spoke softly yet with absolute certainty.
"You still need to advance further to truly wield the power of this wand. After all..." He paused for a moment, lowering his voice.
"The gods are in your hands."
(End of chapter.)