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With Ariana's identity revealed, Professor Mara remains the greatest enigma troubling Ian.
Much like his other acquaintance, Pandero of the Twilight Realm, neither the Nameless Bookshop nor Hogwarts' vast library holds any trace of their existence.
They are absent from history.
They are absent from wizarding chronicles and even from old folktales whispered in common rooms.
The only certainty is that both lived before the founding of Hogwarts— a fact confirmed by the school's thousand-year-old student records.
Of course, it's possible that both have long forgotten their names, but considering Professor Mara's methods of instruction and Pandero's peculiar behavior, it's easy to see they might have walked the earth in the same era.
The early Middle Ages.
This is the one fact Ian can be sure of.
After all, Barnabas thee Barmy once remarked that Ian's mannerisms, shaped by his studies with Witch Mara, bore the air of an itinerant scholar from those ancient times.
Furthermore, neither Witch Mara nor Pandero recognized Hogwarts or any of its houses. Had they been trained within the school's walls, surely their student days would have left an indelible mark upon their memories.
All signs point to Professor Mara and Pandero belonging to an age far older than Hogwarts itself. Thus, Ian never placed much hope in uncovering their pasts.
After all, the journey that began in the Twilight Realm marked a new beginning. Insisting on unearthing the long-buried past seemed futile. There was something to be said for simply cherishing the bonds forged in that realm.
This was how Ian consoled himself after his fruitless search.
However—
He never expected that the moment he ceased his relentless pursuit, a clue to Professor Mara's true identity would surface in such an unexpected and astonishing manner.
"These are the books I'd like to borrow. Thank you, Madam Pince." Ian, filled with quiet urgency, watches as Madam Pince meticulously logs each title.
"Take great care of them. Most books in the Restricted Section contain powerful enchantments, and many are the last of their kind. To lose even one would be a grievous loss." With an exacting hand, Madam Pince records each title, then carefully wraps the borrowed tomes in several layers of protective parchment.
She is, without a doubt, someone who reveres books. "Although I trust you wouldn't be so careless, I must remind you— no eating while reading. If I find so much as a single crumb defiling these pages, not even Professor Dumbledore will be able to shield you from my wrath."
The feather duster in Madam Pince's grip carries an unspoken menace, stirring something deep in Ian's memory. He shivers involuntarily and nods with fervent obedience, like a fledgling pecking at a seed.
"I swear I'll treat them as if they were my finest robes." He solemnly vows, borrowing the dramatics of his ever-exuberant roommate.
William likely wouldn't mind. In fact, he might even take pride in it.
"Very well."
Satisfied, Madam Pince hands over the wrapped books. Ian clutches them tightly and dashes towards the library doors.
"?????"
Watching him flee, Madam Pince momentarily wonders if she has forgotten to register one of the books, prompting the young wizard to make a hasty escape before she realizes.
"Let's see what secrets you've been hiding, my dear mentor."
Ian rushes back to the dormitory, usually deserted at this hour, and eagerly opens the ancient tome.
''Mind's Dominion: From Legilimency to Soul Enchantment''
The title alone hints at magic well beyond the bounds of ordinary wizardry. As Ian suspected, Witch Mara was unlikely to have followed the path of a conventional, light-aligned witch.
"The author's name… it's blurred… the gilded letters have nearly vanished."
Had the cover been intact, Ian wouldn't have needed to borrow the book in the first place. Still, he feels no disappointment— because the author's identity is unveiled on the very first page. It is not Mara herself.
As Madam Pince warned, some books carry magic of their own. This one is no exception. The moment Ian turns the first page, an aged voice fills his ears.
It narrates.
It tells a story.
"When I was her apprentice, I always felt unseen. My fragile, wounded pride twisted within me, filling me with resentment— jealousy of her, jealousy of the others who studied under her. It clouded my mind and shut me off from her, even as she tried to guide me in the ways of magic.
"Who would wish to expose the ugliness within themselves? My teacher— she was brilliant, radiant. Even my vanity, my pride in my own beauty, paled in her presence."
"The longer I stood beside her, the deeper my inferiority festered. I knew I would never match her brilliance, her power."
"Dark thoughts brewed within me. Perhaps I could blame them on magic's influence, but deep down, I have always known— this darkness was mine alone."
"From my elder sister to my younger sister, I have envied them all. Anyone more gifted than I, I have begrudged. Even her, whose power was leagues beyond my own, I resented simply because fate did not favor me as it had her."
"Looking back, there are many things I regret. But above all, the sin I cannot forgive myself for—"
"Is the theft.
The betrayal.
I stole her most prized treasure on the day I turned my back on her.
That mirror."
"None of us ever understood why she cherished that mirror so dearly. She kept it in her chamber at all times, gazing into it, whispering of its wonders."
"It was merely an enchanted mirror— one that could reveal certain truths. With the right incantation, one could glimpse reality; without it, only their deepest desires."
"How could that be called a miracle?"
"I may never understand it, but in my youth, I was convinced that mirror was the key to her unparalleled power."
"Jealousy, distortion, madness— I stole it, betrayed her. I foolishly believed myself cleverer than all the others, thinking I could disappear to a place where she would never find me."
"Far from home."
"I wed a man I did not love. I loved only his wealth and influence. He could provide me with the means to become the formidable witch I had always longed to be."
"This, perhaps, sealed my fate. From the moment I abandoned my homeland, I used my husband's status to watch for any sign that she was pursuing me."
"And, of course, the mirror helped. When I asked it who the most powerful witch in the world was, it always revealed her face and her whereabouts."
"In those days, I thought the chaos of the age worked in my favor, keeping her too preoccupied to seek me out. I lived in peace for a long, long time."
"Until... the news of her death arrived. I had long anticipated this day, but when the mirror confirmed it, despair settled upon me like a shroud."
"Grief consumed me. Memories of the past resurfaced. I realized then that I had never truly forgotten the years I spent learning magic at her side."
"Only there, in her presence, was I free from a husband who coveted my beauty or from ignorant Muggles who feared my magic. She may have been the only genuine soul I ever knew."
"With this realization came regret. Each day, I gazed into the mirror, willing her image to return, hoping that it had all been a deception— that she was merely lying in wait to strike me down."
"If that were true, I might have felt relief. But each morning, when I asked the mirror, it showed only my own reflection."
"I should have been pleased. Yes, I should have... Perhaps she had only ever wished to see me fulfilled. She was that kind of person. How could someone as powerful as her truly be gone?"
"She was the one who taught us how to brew the Elixir of Life!"
"I asked the mirror every day, seeking solace, until one morning my husband's ever-radiant daughter replaced me as the answer."
"That shattered my final illusion! The child of a lustful man! How could she be worthy? Fury and madness clouded my reason during those days."
...
(To Be Continued…)