It felt like there was an inexplicable peculiarity to ponder.

"Perhaps I should know where original Pompeii eventually went?" Ian suddenly thought, his mind inexplicably conjuring the City of Descent he had glimpsed in the Misty Illusion Realm.

At this moment.

"Are you most worried that Riddle will affect history, right?" Dumbledore asked softly, his voice carrying a calmness that seemed to see through Ian’s thoughts.

"Yes."

Ian nodded.

"No need to be so nervous." Dumbledore gently waved his hand, his face carrying the usual composure and calmness, his gaze deep and serene: "Ian, history is like a river flowing endlessly, it has its own stream. We cannot fully control it, nor can we predict its every turn. But one thing is certain — when the source of the tide does not reach us, everything remains undefined."

As he spoke, his gaze slightly turned to Ian, with a meaningful glint passing through his eyes — one could only wonder why the old headmaster was so confident in asserting this. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"You mean?"

Ian opened his mouth tentatively, but Dumbledore had already turned around and patted his shoulder.

"Don’t worry."

Dumbledore’s voice remained gentle, yet it carried a very special charm, "I will solve this problem. Leave the remaining issues to me."

When Dumbledore spoke, his expression was resolute, his voice steady and powerful, as if imbued with some sort of magic power.

"Alright, Professor." Ian looked at Dumbledore and found his heart, which had been taut, inexplicably relaxed, a unique sense of reassurance surged within.

This is the unique charm of Albus Dumbledore.

All the students who have traveled to Hogwarts know that Dumbledore’s assurance always brings comfort, as if with him there, all problems can be effortlessly resolved.

Gently rubbing his brow.

With his mind at ease, Ian was finally able to start sorting through his own experiences.

"Professor," he suddenly began, his voice tinged with curiosity, "I’ve always wanted to ask... Why were you and Professor Flamel able to find me so precisely?"

The little wizard only saw that painting connected to Pompeii, but didn’t find any evidence linking himself to the era of King Arthur.

He is a Ravenclaw student.

He has a natural, irresistible curiosity for unknown things and knowledge.

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel exchanged a glance, a smile passing through their eyes, "You’re a clever child, Ian, but you’ve missed an important detail."

"What detail?" Ian asked, curiosity flashing in his eyes. For this curiosity, Dumbledore did not answer directly, but instead looked at the ancient time converter on Ian’s chest.

Ian lowered his head to look at the golden device in his hand, and then followed Dumbledore’s gaze, looking at the giant Big Ben behind him. Embedded in the clock face was a time converter identical to the one in his hand.

"This!?"

Ian seemed to realize something.

He quickly walked over to Big Ben, carefully examining that time converter. Every detail matched the one in his hand, a fact that was simply too unbelievable.

This could not be explained by standard equipment, as even certain places bore similar signs of wear. To verify the unbelievable thought rising in his mind, Ian instinctively used his magic wand to scratch a mark on his time converter, then looked up, eyes fixed on Big Ben.

Sure enough.

The time converter embedded in Big Ben also began to reveal an identical mark.

"This is truly... peculiar."

Ian couldn’t help but mutter, his eyes glimmering.

"Yes, very peculiar,"

Dumbledore’s voice came from behind him.

"But it is certainly no coincidence."

The old headmaster’s voice carried a hint of wonder.

Upon hearing this.

Ian’s heart was suddenly stirred, a thought flashed through his mind. He looked at Dumbledore and spoke: "I think there’s someone who can tell us the answer."

As he spoke.

The image of the younger student residing opposite his dorm room surfaced in his mind.

"Oh?"

Dumbledore raised his brow, a hint of interest flashing in his eyes, evidently not expecting Ian to say such things. Even Nicolas Flamel was somewhat surprised, casting several looks toward Ian.

"It seems you know something that we don’t."

Nicolas Flamel’s tone carried a trace of excitement.

"Is it dangerous?"

He was not cautious but rather eager to try.

"Guaranteed win."

Ian’s response was slightly cryptic.

How to put it.

Confidence is warranted.

One-on-one he didn’t fear, let alone two or three against one — at this thought, Ian was somewhat curious, wondering if Grindelwald, too, had become a legend.