[Note: Read up to Chapter - 173 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]
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"Nicolas, I'll leave Aris in your care."
Dumbledore was soon making ready to depart. Ever since hearing Aris's prophecy about the devil's return, he had seemed a touch distracted, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
"Don't fret—you've done a fine thing this time," Nicolas Flamel said, casting Aris a glance filled with satisfaction.
In his six centuries of life, Flamel had taught more than his fair share of students. And though he had seen many with talent, encountering someone like Aris was still something extraordinary.
Now, at the very dusk of his years—especially after losing the Philosopher's Stone, and with it the power of immortality—Flamel found himself unexpectedly moved.
Faced with a gifted youth like Aris, he couldn't help but wonder: could this boy truly inherit all his knowledge, carry forward the sum of his life's research?
For a man who had dedicated hundreds of years to alchemy, such a possibility was a temptation beyond measure.
"Professor Dumbledore," Flamel continued, his tone solemn, "some things are like the turning of fate's wheel. All we can do is let it spin once more. Too much meddling will only make matters worse. Best not to worry yourself overly."
Aris couldn't help but remind him. He knew full well that Dumbledore would grasp the meaning straight away.
"Don't interfere?" Dumbledore frowned. "Is that also part of the prophecy's warning?"
"I reckon so," Aris nodded firmly.
What he feared most now was that Dumbledore might take some needless action and complicate matters.
In the original course of events, Dumbledore had simply hidden the Philosopher's Stone within the Mirror of Erised using a special method, then set up a series of trials for Harry and the others. In the end, both Voldemort and Quirrell were destroyed neatly by the 'plot' itself.
That outcome was without doubt the best one: not only did it serve to train Harry and his friends, it also safely and painlessly thwarted Voldemort's first attempt at resurrection.
"I see," Dumbledore murmured after a pause, before a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Over the following days, Aris remained in Nicolas Flamel's laboratory, only slipping back to the castle from time to time to check on Hermione and the others' progress, offering guidance whenever they hit fresh hurdles in their studies.
What pleased him most was that, aside from Luna, the others had already managed to release their first fireball or whirlwind. Even Luna, after several days of attuning herself to elemental energy, could now at least guide it in its earliest form.
At this pace, she might very well master her first piece of elemental magic before the new term began.
Aris himself was taken aback by the girl's natural gift.
But later, he realised why.
Luna's quick progress was most likely down to her very nature. Elemental energy carried a peculiar trait: the purer the mind, the stronger the compatibility; the more clouded the heart, the weaker the bond.
And that—without doubt—was Luna's greatest strength.
…
On the sixth day of the holiday, Aris had just stepped out of Nicolas Flamel's safehouse and was preparing to Apparate when a figure suddenly appeared across the street.
Aris's expression hardened instantly, his entire body locking up in shock.
The man's face was pale, his silver-white hair falling to his shoulders in a messy curtain draped behind his head. His features were weathered, lined with deep wrinkles, and his frame looked as though it had suffered years of malnourishment.
He was thin to the point of gauntness, his eye sockets slightly sunken.
But it was his eyes—those piercing, silver-white eyes—that made Aris recognise him at once.
Silver eyes that opened wide, as though cutting through the very world.
Gellert Grindelwald!
The wizard who had once carved his name into legend—a true demon king, a tier above even Voldemort.
At that instant, Aris felt every cell in his body stir with unease, as if bristling at the presence before him.
In that heartbeat, it was as though revelation struck him: his vision expanded on its own, opening into another realm entirely.
The world around him melted away. The twin perspectives of power interlocked, and a separate spiritual domain unfolded between them.
And yet, outwardly, Aris and Grindelwald still stood motionless on opposite sides of the street—locked in silence, their gazes fixed upon one another.
"Child… you must know I've been searching for you for a very long time."
An aged voice drifted out from the mist ahead.
Aris willed it away, and the fog cloaking this spiritual world rolled back like a receding tide until it vanished altogether.
"You truly wield formidable spiritual power… worthy indeed of being called the chosen one of prophecy."
Grindelwald's figure stood revealed before him at last.
The pale old man wore a gentle smile, appearing almost harmless—but his natural aura was impossible to conceal. Wherever he stood, he became the centre of attention.
"Grindelwald? Hello," Aris greeted, nodding calmly to the old man.
"You're not afraid of me?" Grindelwald asked, genuine surprise flickering across his face.
"Why should I be?" Aris replied with a faint smile. "To me, you're nothing more than an elderly gentleman."
"Elderly…?" Grindelwald froze for a moment, then shook his head with a wistful chuckle.
"It seems no one's ever called me that before… but I must say, I rather like it." Grindelwald's lips curved faintly. "I'm quite satisfied with your response."
"I don't understand—why are you looking for me?" Aris asked bluntly. It was the question weighing most heavily on his mind.
What did this so-called demon king intend, now that he had slipped free of Nurmengard?
At his age, could he even stage a comeback? Surely it was far too late.
Besides, he hadn't left that high tower unscathed.
Aris could sense it clearly—the once-great sorcerer's magic and spiritual power were unstable, fractured. A shadow of what they had been at his peak.
"I came to see you," Grindelwald replied evenly, taking slow steps forward.
A crushing, invisible pressure swept toward Aris, forcing his brow to furrow. It was as if Grindelwald was deliberately pressing down on him with sheer will alone.
Here, in the spiritual world, everything was decided by the strength of the mind. Every strike, every defence, was born from the spirit.
Feeling the weight bearing down, Aris instinctively pushed back.
The entire spiritual realm shuddered at once, waves of turbulence rippling through the void.
Countless fragmented images flickered through the air, flashing past like scenes in a reel of memory.
"Do you know where this is?"
Grindelwald's voice rang out once more. But this time, without giving Aris the chance to answer, he spoke on his own.
"This is the world of vision—some call it the realm of past and future. Only true prophets can enter here. It's an unordered rift in time, born from the overlap of your sight and mine…"
His gaze deepened, his tone solemn. "And I think there are matters worth discussing between us in this place."
Grindelwald stood before Aris, eyes like bottomless pools, his expression deadly serious.
At that moment, Aris began to grasp it.
This wasn't just some spiritual scuffle. It was a clash of visions—no, a confrontation between two prophets.
Unlike a duel of curses, there would be no clear loser here. Instead, it was about the exchange of sight—an understanding, a shared language of the future.
The true purpose of this strange space was to link him and Grindelwald together, bound within a certain dimension.
For Aris, the sensation was… utterly novel.
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Drop Power Stonessssssssss!
[Note: Read up to Chapter - 173 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]