Was Raven a woman?
The black-robed wizard didn't know.
Was Raven a beautiful woman?
He would never have the chance to find out.
In response to his question, Lina remained calm and serene.
"That's right. We don't need to know. Or rather..." Lina nodded solemnly. "We cannot, and should not, try to guess a god's thoughts or movements."
She had deliberately used the word "god." In her heart, Ian had already attained such a status.
"Since He chose to confirm His return in this way instead of descending before us, He must have His reasons. Perhaps Africa wasn't the first place He visited. Perhaps there is some more urgent or well-hidden disaster or anomaly that requires His attention. Or perhaps He simply wishes to quietly observe the world He once saved without drawing attention to Himself.
"There could be countless explanations, but they all belong to the domain of His will."
As expected of Raven's Seer, Lina interpreted everything Ian did in the most flattering way possible.
She looked at the still-confused black-robed wizard and patiently continued, "Remember this, child. Our duties here are to watch and remain silent. We watch over this door, and we keep Raven's legend secret. His return alone is the greatest recognition and reward we could receive for carrying out our duty. As for when He will truly meet us, how He might choose to do so, or whether He even needs to meet us at all... none of that is for us to decide.
"We need only wait."
She paused, her voice becoming gentler yet no less firm.
"Master Saruman and the warrior Kag both reached the natural end of their lives. They passed away peacefully after living long and extraordinary lives. I was able to survive far beyond an ordinary lifespan because of my mark as a Seer and the special connection I share with Him. That is why I remain one of the last witnesses and guardians of that ancient history. That alone is an incredible blessing and a sacred duty. We must not ask for more, nor overstep our place."
Lina's words also revealed what had ultimately become of Saruman and Kag. Without reaching the Legendary realm, no one could survive for a thousand years. The younger Saruman had inherited the memories and temporary power of his elderly counterpart, but in the end, he had still failed to take that final step during his lifetime.
The reason was simple: without an all-consuming obsession, it was impossible to break through in an age when magic had declined and the path to the heavens had been severed.
"I see." As the black-robed wizard listened, his excitement and confusion gradually faded. In their place came a heavy sense of responsibility and an inexplicable calm.
Although he had forgotten the secret itself, Lina's unwavering faith in that higher will and her absolute devotion to her duty still moved him deeply.
"I understand, Mentor Lina." He nodded and looked toward the bronze door. "Then what should we do next?"
"What we have always done."
Lina approached the door. As she had done countless times before, she took out a soft cloth soaked in a special potion and gently wiped away the dust that wasn't even there. Her movements were careful and reverent.
"We will remain here, preserve the peace of this forbidden area, and ensure that Raven's legend is not disturbed by outsiders. This door is still here, and that is enough. It is a symbol, a coordinate... and a possibility."
As if remembering something, Lina turned and gave the black-robed wizard an encouraging smile.
"As for you, focus on recovering and adjusting to your new status as an initiate. The marks on your body are both remnants of history and tools for the future. Perhaps one day, when He has need of you, your unique perception will prove useful."
Lina truly had a gift for speaking in riddles. Perhaps the longer people lived, the more they enjoyed being mysterious. That seemed to be true in every world and every age.
"I understand." The black-robed wizard touched the shadowy scar on his face. This time, he felt no unease, only a strange sense of belonging. He nodded solemnly.
Neither of them spoke again, and silence returned to the observation chamber. The enormous bronze door stood there in mute stillness, as if its brief radiance and the hope it had inspired had never existed.
Yet the lingering presence in the air, the pulsing mark on Lina's chest, and the renewed conviction in their hearts all silently proclaimed the truth: Raven had returned.
It was simply that the first land touched by His wings was not this one.
---
Unfortunately, Ian wasn't quite as profound as Lina imagined. Nor had he planned anything so elaborate. In fact, he was just as confused about being transported somewhere else.
"Wait a minute. I followed the Raven mark. Shouldn't it have taken me to my Seer?"
At almost the exact moment the bronze door beneath the African Ministry of Magic's silent tower lost its glow and returned to stillness, far away on the eastern shore of the North Atlantic, in Britain, Ian appeared in London.
There was a reason London was known as the City of Fog. A fine English drizzle drifted from the sky, covering the ancient city's brick buildings, the mist rising from the Thames, and the dark umbrellas of hurrying pedestrians in a cold, gray haze.
Rain pattered softly against the paving stones, blending with the distant noise of the city and the tolling of a clock tower to create London's familiar, timeless ambiance.
In a secluded back alley, rubbish bins waited to be collected. The walls were covered with wet, dark moss and faded graffiti, while rainwater dripped from rusted fire escapes and cracks in the crumbling brickwork, gathering in puddles across the uneven ground.
Amid that stillness, an incredibly faint spatial ripple spread through the air. Neither ordinary people nor average wizards would have been able to sense it. It was like the final ring created by a pebble dropped into calm water, fading almost as soon as it appeared.
Then, without warning, a figure materialized in the shadows at the far end of the alley. It was as though he had been standing there all along and the light had only just revealed him.
It was Ian Prince.
"Where the hell did that send me?"
His dark robes seemed to automatically purge themselves of every trace of moisture and dust that belonged to neither this era nor this place. They remained neat and understated, completely at odds with the rundown alley yet strangely blending into its shadows without attracting any attention.
There was still a hint of exhaustion on his face from crossing time and space and manipulating higher dimensions. His eyes, however, were exceptionally bright and alert beneath London's gloomy sky as they quickly swept across his surroundings.
"Cold weather," Ian muttered, breathing out a small cloud of white mist that quickly dispersed in the chilly air. "Good thing my body's too powerful to feel it."
The first thing Ian did was examine his own condition.
Within him, the powers of the dual Authorities, Chaos Corrosion and the Foundation of Order, rested like a sleeping ocean, vast and tranquil. Compared to how active and restless they had been during the final battle in R'lyeh, when he devoured Cthulhu's true body, they had now settled completely, achieving a deeper balance with his soul and will.
His foundation as a Legendary Wizard had not been weakened by everything he had endured. Instead, it had been tempered like steel, becoming denser and more powerful, with the stability that came from surviving the ultimate trial.
"I've gotten stronger, and I'm still not bald."
Ian could clearly sense that his understanding and control of magic, the laws of reality, and existence itself had reached an entirely new level. Even the slightest movement seemed capable of stirring a subtle response from the magic in his surroundings.
More important, however, were his Authorities. Most of their power had sealed itself away for his protection and to maintain stability, but their mere presence had created a transcendent connection between Ian and the fundamental structure of the world, almost as though he were its overseer.
He could vaguely sense the magical currents flowing through the land and the unique atmosphere belonging to this country and era, a complicated mixture of ancient traditions, hidden vitality, and unseen undercurrents.
There was no discomfort or rejection. He blended into the world as naturally as a drop of water entering the sea or a tree taking root in the earth.
Lina had been right about one thing: he had returned. Stronger than before, he had returned to an era that had never truly belonged to him, yet had been quietly reshaped by the actions of his past.
"Still, I want to go back to my Hogwarts."
Ian lowered his head and straightened a sleeve that wasn't wrinkled in the first place. The simple gesture was more of a mental adjustment, allowing him to transition from time traveler and destroyer of an Ancient One into the role of a returnee and observer.
Then he started toward the mouth of the alley.
His shoes tapped lightly and steadily against the wet paving stones, the sound quickly swallowed by the rain. When he emerged from the narrow alley onto the wider street, a familiar London scene unfolded before him.
Pedestrians hurried through the fine mist beneath black and checkered umbrellas, most dressed in dark coats and trench coats. Old brick buildings stood solemnly in the rain, interspersed with the reflections of modern glass façades. A red double-decker bus rolled past, splashing through a shallow puddle.
The neighborhood was relatively quiet. The air carried a mixture of coffee, rain, faint exhaust fumes, and the buttery aroma drifting from a nearby bakery.
"Looks like I'm still in the same era. At least I didn't jump through time again."
Ian's gaze swept across the ordinary scene before settling on the unmistakable outline of a massive Ferris wheel beyond the rain. Farther away stood a bridge spanning the gray river, distinguished by its two iconic towers.
The London Eye. The Thames. Tower Bridge.
Despite the minor corrections to the timeline, these famous landmarks remained, silently announcing his location one after another.
London, England.
"At least I'm not still in Africa. That counts as good news."
Ian had returned to Britain, somewhere not too far from Hogwarts. A faint warmth passed through his otherwise calm eyes. This was, after all, the direction of home.
"But I never found Professor Newt. Now that I think about it, everything involving him might have been a trap. He might never have been in Africa at all. It was probably all part of Saruman's scheme to lure me there."
Ian was a clever man most of the time, and he quickly pieced together the most likely explanation. He knew the fascinating wizard named Saruman had many secrets Ian had yet to uncover. Still, some things came down to fate, and there was no need to dig into every last detail.
Ian was undoubtedly a curious wizard, but being curious about everything would only distract him when something truly worthy of his curiosity appeared. He didn't insist on uncovering the truth behind every mystery.
Life was more interesting with a few unanswered questions. Wasn't it?
"My top priority is repairing my time machine."
Ian continued walking without attracting the attention of a single passerby. A simple compound spell flowed naturally around him, interfering with people's perception and weakening their awareness of his presence. No one noticed him or sensed anything unusual.
"Actually, food first."
Like any other lone traveler walking through the London rain, Ian naturally merged into the crowd and strolled along the pavement at an unhurried pace.
The raindrops that landed on his shoulders never soaked his clothes. They simply slid away, deflected by an invisible field. His thoughts, meanwhile, raced much faster than his feet.
The bronze door's brief opening and closing had been his own decision. He had indeed confirmed the situation in Africa: the corrections to the timeline were stable, the watchers' duty had been passed down properly, and both Lina and the purified guardian were in good condition.
That was enough.
There was no reason for him to appear at the Ministry of Magic's secret base right now. Doing so might attract unnecessary attention, speculation, or even unrest.
Being thrown all the way back to London, however, had certainly not been part of his plan.
"What influenced the teleportation?"
As Ian considered the question, people continued to pass him on London's rain-soaked streets. None of them knew that a Legendary Wizard who had just destroyed an ancient horror and gained command over dangerous Authorities was now quietly walking among them.
He blended into the crowd like a drop of water disappearing into the sea, beginning his first peaceful survey of a world he had changed and still needed to protect.
---
Far away in Africa, beneath the silent tower, Mentor Lina gently touched the warm mark on her chest. She gazed out at the blazing African sunlight, so completely different from London's gray rain, and smiled serenely.
"You have returned. That is enough. Please follow your will, my lord. The Gate of Vigil shall always remain here."
Her words sounded almost like an answer to a thought sent across space itself.
Her duty was to watch and remain silent. His journey was to observe and protect.
At that moment, their paths crossed once more through time and space, each in a different way, yet both continuing along the same long and unwavering road.
The rain kept falling. London's streets remained as busy and ordinary as ever.
"I'm starving! I feel like I could eat an entire cow!"
Ian's actual condition was clearly quite different from the dignified image Lina had imagined.
There was a reason people said you should never meet your idols. Sometimes, wise sayings really did make sense.
Ian temporarily cast aside his distracting thoughts and began searching the streets of London for something to eat.
Only the fleeting reflection in a puddle near the mouth of the alley, an impossibly deep gaze that might have been nothing more than an illusion, hinted that an extraordinary existence had returned.
(End of This Chapter)
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