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Deep within the Forbidden Forest, the scene was one of utter devastation. Moonlight spilled through the canopy, broken into fragments by twisted shadows, casting mottled light over the massive bronze gate that loomed before him.
Scorched earth, shattered rock, and the lingering heat in the air all bore silent witness to the ferocity of the battle that had taken place here.
Before that towering structure, hundreds of meters high, Ian stood, as small as an ant before a mountain.
"Even Newt Scamander would call me a professional… might as well whip out a bezoar and pretend to look worried." He muttered the line to himself, recalling an old adventure novel he'd once read.
The colossal bronze gate rose high and unyielding, its frame etched densely with Runes, not only Runes, but also fragments of ancient magical scripts woven together in chaotic layers.
Those intertwined symbols, some carved deep enough to gouge the metal, others flowing like quicksilver, seemed to form a chaotic fusion of arcane languages, the very foundation of the mysterious power that sustained the gate's existence.
"What in Merlin's name is this thing…"
Ian reached out and brushed the surface with his fingertips. It was cold, smooth as glass, yet the chill carried a faint tremor that pulsed through his skin. The texture was unlike any metal, stone, or known alchemical substance. No word could quite describe the sensation.
It was as if the material didn't belong to the natural world at all, perhaps not even to the known realm of alchemy. To Ian's trained senses, it felt less like a crafted alloy and more like solidified magic itself.
He decided to test it again, to see whether his spells could influence the gate in any way.
Among his many talents, Dark Magic and Transfiguration were what he excelled at most. Since he had already proven that dark magic couldn't affect the gate, he now shifted to Transfiguration, attempting to transform it into something else, anything, to see whether the door's "extraordinary properties" could be shaken.
"Cito transformare!"
Magic rippled across the surface, and vanished.
It was as if his spell had been swallowed whole by an abyss. Not even the faintest scratch appeared on the bronze, not a fleck of rust dislodged. Ian could feel it clearly: the magic used for Transfiguration had simply dissipated, nullified at the moment of contact.
"Does it… have immunity to magic?"
Impossible.
The gate itself radiated an immense magical aura. If something were truly impervious to magic, then by all alchemical principles, it couldn't contain magic either.
In other words, this bronze gate, lying hidden in the depths of Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest, whether revealed by an earthquake or something far stranger, should not exist. It defied every rule of alchemy. A contradiction made manifest.
"Wait, was there even an earthquake?"
Ian frowned. He didn't recall one. But he had left Hogwarts for a while, hadn't he? Perhaps something had happened during his absence. Still, whether or not there had been an earthquake, logic suggested that the gate had previously been sealed and inactive.
Otherwise, the professors, the old Headmaster, or his good brother would surely have noticed the anomaly long ago. And as someone who frequently wandered the Forbidden Forest, Ian himself would never have waited until now to hear the dragon's roar.
Clearly, something had caused this once-buried bronze gate to reawaken, to emerge again into the world. Which meant this valley must have hidden some powerful sealing method, preventing anyone from discovering it until the seal was broken.
That thought made Ian narrow his eyes.
He drew his flying cloak around himself and, much like Doctor Strange, rose into the air. His light-green eyes swept over the ravine below, scanning every crevice and shadow for clues.
"No… this isn't a natural collapse."
The realization hit him hard. The cracks running through the valley floor were too precise, too cleanly split, as if torn open by deliberate force, not by time, nor by the randomness of an earthquake.
"Who would do something like this, and for what reason?" Ian murmured under his breath, then flicked his wand, his body blurring as he shot toward the deepest fissure of the valley.
Inside, layers of ancient rock that hadn't seen daylight for countless years came into view. The further he went, the stranger the stone walls became. What had first appeared to be ordinary cracks revealed, upon closer inspection, exactly what he'd suspected, many were inscribed with magical texts.
Within the valley, the exposed inner walls, revealed only after the land had split apart, were covered with enormous arrays of runic inscriptions. Even the stones themselves had been shaped and positioned with intent. They crisscrossed the valley like veins, some dull and lifeless, others faintly glowing as though still pulsing with power.
Perhaps they were carved by hand. Perhaps shaped by magic. Ian couldn't tell. In truth, he couldn't even fully recognize all the structures of the runes, just as he hadn't been able to decipher the chaotic mixture of magic etched onto the bronze gate itself.
"Guess I'm not as well-read as I thought."
He let out a quiet sigh. The runes before him were just as eclectic, a hodgepodge of magical systems fused together. Perhaps the two, this valley and that gate, had indeed been crafted by the same person.
Whatever the truth, from what little he could decipher, Ian's earlier guess seemed right: the entire valley was one colossal container, a sealing construct designed to contain and suppress the functioning of the bronze gate. Or… maybe even to preserve it.
The thought made him chuckle dryly to himself. For a moment, he felt like one of his classmates, the kind who stared blankly whenever complex magical theory came up. After all, he'd only been studying for a single year.
There was no way he could possibly understand the entirety of the wizarding world's magical knowledge. In fact, even under the best mentorship, mastering all the branches of magic would take not ten, not twenty, but perhaps a hundred years.
It was like Muggle science: the age of magical development had existed far longer than the age of science.
Even though progress had stagnated somewhat in recent centuries, the sheer number of magical disciplines that had evolved over the ages was staggering. No wizard could ever hope to master them all, just as no scientist could ever master every field of science.
Human knowledge has limits. Even geniuses like Ian, or like Einstein, for that matter, were bound by them. No matter how prodigious, no one could devour the sum of wizarding knowledge overnight.
(To Be Continued…)