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Outside the ancient castle, Ian gained more knowledge from the senior Ancient Dragon of Hogwarts.
This led him to wonder:
'If Dumbledore, who supposedly achieved Legendary status by killing a dragon, were to learn this information, would he hunt down the remaining eleven Ancient Dragons to obtain the so-called "Dragon Slayer's World Certification"?'
After all, if one could deceive history and slaughter a dragon somewhere along the river of time, then logically, slaughtering eleven more wouldn't be difficult, especially with the enhanced ease that came from facing Ancient Dragons at the Legendary rank.
From what Ian understood, Legendary beings who ascended by killing a dragon were innately weaker than those who used other methods. Therefore, if Grindelwald knew this information, he would definitely choose to do it.
Or perhaps...
Had he and Albus Dumbledore already done so?
After all, the senior Ancient Dragon's knowledge originated from Hogwarts. So there was no reason that Dumbledore wouldn't know this information.
If Dumbledore had truly inherited the Founders' legacy of knowledge, he and Grindelwald must have been aware of what the senior Ancient Dragon was now revealing when they sought to attain Legendary status.
"But that still doesn't explain why twelve?" Ian pressed, "Why not ten, fifteen, or even the number most symbolic of magic... seven?"
Ian remembered that in the Harry Potter world, the number seven always held special significance.
"So, you also understand the significance of the number seven..." The Ancient Dragon paused, seemingly recalling some ancient legend. "In truth, many numbers carry deeper meaning."
"Because twelve represents a complete cycle," It said. "A year has twelve months, the zodiac has twelve signs, and magic circles have twelve nodes... Twelve symbolizes completeness and also represents an end. When you slay the twelfth dragon, it signifies that you have undergone a special kind of transformation."
The senior Ancient Dragon had finally given him the answer.
Ian nodded thoughtfully.
Perhaps it was like the number three, which carries the universal meaning of "all things come in threes." In the Harry Potter world, many numbers held special meaning, with seven being merely the most prominent among them.
"So, killing one Ancient Dragon lets you ascend to Legendary Status, and killing twelve gives you extra rewards, right?"
Ian organized his newly learned knowledge and confirmed it.
The Ancient Dragon paused for a moment before emitting a deep, rumbling gū lū sound, like muffled thunder rolling deep within its throat. It raised its head slightly, casting an even deeper shadow across the courtyard with its colossal form.
"Close enough."
Its answer lacked absolute certainty.
"What do you mean, 'Close enough'?" Ian was a bit surprised.
"Ah, that... There is indeed a reward, but killing the dragon isn't proof of anything. It's more of an honor." Its voice carried an odd undertone.
"An honor, or perhaps a kind of 'certification,'" it said, as if searching for the right words.
"Certification?" Ian continued, deep in thought.
"Yes. According to certain theories, pureblood Ancient Dragons are essentially alien species. Therefore, the world bestows a reward upon those who slay them." The Ancient Dragon grinned, revealing rows of gleaming white fangs.
The air in the courtyard seemed to freeze.
Ian could feel the Ancient Dragon's breath growing hotter, with the smell of sulfur becoming stronger. He instinctively tightened his grip on his wand, only to see a strange, indescribable excitement glint in the Ancient Dragon's eyes.
"Killing twelve Ancient Dragons grants you a certain certification... This certification makes the world favor you, granting you special... um, privileges."
When the senior dragon spoke of this, he sounded faintly wistful.
Which was understandable, as even Ian was shocked by such information.
"Holy crap, Earth has this many alien species?" He was genuinely bewildered. He had initially assumed Ancient Dragons represented Earth's native magic, but now it seemed they were actually at the same table as the Titans?
Or perhaps the Titans brought them to this planet as a food reserve or some kind of biological modification tool?
Come to think of it, that explanation made perfect sense. It would neatly explain why Ancient Dragons enjoy hybridizing with so many species and can produce offspring with most creatures, even humans.
If they were originally meant to enhance biodiversity, to be "items" that could nurture magical life in a world without magic, then their seemingly irrational reproductive urges and capabilities would suddenly become logical and reasonable.
"What do you mean by 'this many alien species'?"
The senior Ancient Dragon had no idea what Ian had been through, so he was extremely curious about his choice of words.
"Have you seen other species that also seem like aliens?"
"To be honest, during the last phase of my life when I was still alive, many humans were fascinated by alien research. There was even a theory that wizards themselves were aliens."
The Ancient Dragon sounded a little nostalgic, as if reminiscing about the time when it was still alive. Ian had no idea why an Ancient Dragon living at Hogwarts would be interested in this topic.
'Was there really such a thing as longing for one's true homeland?'
In any case, the senior ancient dragon's huge eyes were now full of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge as it looked at Ian.
"Tell me, tell me more!" The Ancient Dragon's amber-colored vertical pupils suddenly narrowed to thin slits as it slowly straightened its massive body, its scales grinding together with a metallic clang.
Faced with such a sharing and inquisitive elder, Ian was more than willing to share.
The Ancient Dragon, who had been lounging languidly just moments before, now sat up straight, its posture alert and eager.
The Ancient Dragon, which had looked lazy just moments ago, now looked like a child who had just heard that the candy shop was open for business. Its amber-colored vertical pupils widened into perfect circles. Even its nostrils flared slightly, and the sulfurous breath it exhaled nearly knocked Ian off balance.
Ian took a deep breath.
Then, he began recounting what he had seen in the outside world.
He talked about how he had encountered gods.
He explained that the gods were creations of the Titans.
And how the Titans themselves were alien species.
There was no real need to keep this a secret.
By the time Ian reached the part about the Titans devouring their creator to seize divine authority, the Ancient Dragon's pupils dilated until they nearly filled its entire eye sockets. Its massive body trembled slightly, its scales clicking open and shut rhythmically.
At that, Ian nodded and continued.
"They claimed they came from the stars." Ian recalled the words of the female titan and relayed what he had witnessed to the ancient dragon solemnly. "They drifted aboard a world ark for seven epochs."
As he described the scene of the Titans descending upon Earth in island-sized flying vessels, the Ancient Dragon's tail swept uncontrollably across the ground, smashing a granite boulder into dust.
"I knew there had to be aliens in the world! Even Ancient Dragons might have been an invasive species!" The Ancient Dragon suddenly reared up on its hind legs, its membranous wings snapping open with a resounding whoosh.
It nearly brought half the castle crashing down.
The guardian statues in the courtyard were so frightened that they rolled straight into the fountain.
They were all Ian's creations.
"Enough, enough!"
The Ancient Dragon suddenly covered its ears with its wings, shaking its massive head like a child refusing to face reality. "My cognition system needs to reboot! This is just too overwhelming!"
It collapsed to the ground, burying its head in its claws. Its scales shifted rapidly through a spectrum of colors—from shocked bright blue to perplexed purple, finally settling on an excited orange-red.
When the Ancient Dragon raised its head again, its eyes sparkled with excitement, like a Niffler who had just discovered a warehouse full of gold galleons.
"Ian Prince," It said in a more formal tone than ever before. "As the last pureblood Ancient Dragon of Hogwarts, I request... no, I implore you, if you ever have the chance, summon me to the present world!"
The Ancient Dragon's tail thrashed against the ground in excitement, shaking the courtyard so violently that the gargoyle statues toppled from their columns.
"I must see these alien visitors with my own eyes! Touch their flying vessels!" Its voice grew increasingly frenzied. "Maybe I can find a Titan and ask them about the outside universe!"
Ian stared at the colossal creature before him—a being that had lived for millennia yet now resembled a star-struck teenager. He was momentarily speechless. The Ancient Dragon's eyes shone with pure longing, like a child yearning to explore the cosmos.
"Do you really like alien civilizations that much?" Ian asked tentatively.
"Yes." The Ancient Dragon fell silent for a moment, then murmured in a low voice: "When I was alive, I always felt an indescribable pull in my memories, as if some unseen force was guiding me..."
Sure enough, the Ancient Dragon truly did yearn for aliens.
It had to be said that this was an exceptionally rare and little-known revelation.
Since he had never communicated with other Ancient Dragons, Ian couldn't determine if this feeling was universal among them or merely unique to the one currently dwelling in the Twilight Zone.
"Is this the real reason you remain in the Twilight Zone? Not just to see old acquaintances or anything like that?" Ian ventured, pondering aloud.
"I don't know." The ancient dragon replied, settling back onto the ground, its voice tinged with confusion.
Seeing this, Ian knew that anyone with high emotional intelligence would understand that this wasn't a topic to linger on.
"Let's talk about why slaughtering an Ancient Dragon grants one special privileges in the world," Ian said, still puzzled by the matter.
The reproductive ability of the Ancient Dragons was not weak, but it was not strong enough to cause a massive biological takeover. Logically speaking, such an invasive species should have been harmless to Earth.
"How would I know such things?" The Ancient Dragon retorted, flicking its tail indignantly. "I'm just an Ancient Dragon, not a wizard. Who would bother memorizing such tedious details?"
"So, Lady Ravenclaw actually has answers to this?" Ian asked, dumbfounded.
The Ancient Dragon seemed amused by his expression, a low rumble of laughter echoing from its throat. "However, from what I've heard, this reward is essential for 'weak Legendaries'... those who achieved Legendary status by slaying dragons, as a necessary means of reinforcement or powering up."
"Weak Legendaries?"
"Those who achieved Legendary status through trickery are the ones I despise," The Ancient Dragon scoffed. "True power doesn't need to be proven through slaughter, but there are always some... well, you understand."
"They were weaker, so they needed to become stronger. If they could walk this path, they'd be no different from normal Legendaries, perhaps this is why the Ancient Dragons of old met their extinction."
The Ancient Dragon's voice grew wistful again.
Ian nodded thoughtfully, suddenly struck by a question: "You seem to have no sympathy whatsoever for your own kind?"
The Ancient Dragon tilted its head, as if he had just heard something ridiculous.
"Sympathy?"
It snorted lazily. "History had already sealed the fate of the Ancient Dragons. In my eyes, they ceased to exist long ago."
The Ancient Dragon gently tapped the ground with its claw, its tone as casual as discussing the weather. "Besides, can a domesticated sheepdog truly be considered the same species as a wild wolf?"
Ian was left speechless once again.
The Ancient Dragon seemed pleased with his reaction, its eyes narrowing as the tip of its tail flicked twice in amusement. "Any more questions? If not, I'm going back to sleep."
Ian shook his head, unable to stop himself from sighing.
"You have such a clear perspective; it's impressive."
The Ancient Dragon snorted and settled back down, resting its massive head on its forepaws as its eyes slowly closed. "It's just from living a long time... I died of old age, and not because someone killed me."
Its breathing quickly evened out, the magic runes between its scales flickering faintly as it drifted back into slumber. Ian stood there, watching this ancient and wise creature.
Once again, he deeply felt the influence one's living environment has on a being.
If it affected even animals so strongly, humans were certainly no exception.
Perhaps that's why so many believe culture is the true marker of identity. The Ancient Dragon, having lived immersed in human culture for so long, felt no sense of belonging to its true kin.
It seemed more like a wizard after all, including its way of thinking.
With these thoughts in mind, Ian headed toward the ancient castle.
He still had some time left, so he decided to visit his teacher, Morgan.
After their conversation ended, the problem facing Ian was his lingering anxiety about the battle between Raven and the Death God.
In fact, especially after his discussion with the Ancient Dragon, this anxiety had only intensified. After all, deceiving time and rewriting history might not be exclusive to wizards.
The earlier conversation still echoed in his mind:
Cheating time, replacing events, history's automatic correction...
If even Dumbledore had repeatedly attempted such methods, could the Death God, Raven, or even his own experiences in the black-and-white world be part of some grander deception?
The tower's shadow gradually swallowed his figure.
Inside the ancient castle, everything remained as Ian remembered it. Ancient crystal chandeliers hung from the soaring domed ceiling, and along the deep, echoing corridors, magical portraits of generations of wizards scrutinized him with piercing gazes.
Some of them leaned toward one another and whispered softly.
The air carried the familiar scent of medicinal herbs, mingled with the musty odor of parchment and a faint hint of dragon ambergris, likely left behind by Shadow Wing, who often dozed off in some hidden corner.
Ian strode through the grand hall, his footsteps echoing between the bare stone walls. The doors to the Feast Hall swung open automatically, revealing the familiar long oak table laden with exquisite silver tableware. Candle flames burned steadily, illuminating the intricate patterns etched into the tableware. Yet the moment he stepped into the hall, the knives, forks, and plates seemed to panic, leaping off the table with a clattering din and scattering in every direction.
"Here we go again..." Ian sighed, watching with practiced indifference as a silver dining knife frantically rammed into the fireplace, only to scream and jump back out after getting scorched.
Professor Morgan's magical utensils were always like this, like a bunch of spoiled elves, hiding the moment they saw a stranger.
He scanned the room. The dining table showed no signs of a recent meal, and the fire in the fireplace seemed freshly lit. Clearly, Professor Morgan wasn't there.
"Professor?" Ian called out, raising his voice, but the only response was a faint echo drifting back from deep within the castle.
He frowned and continued walking deeper inside.
The library, the alchemy workshop, the observatory…
Every place Morgan usually visited was completely empty.
Finally, he arrived at his teacher's bedroom door. He still didn't find anyone, but there was a note stuck to the door.
(End of Chapter)