Chapter 251 - Return!

{15th July 1992}

{Rigel's POV}

The tome's light did not dim so much as it guttered, like the last breath of a lamp whose oil had finally burned out. A flicker of mana rippled through the leather, enough to send it falling down, and I caught it automatically, my fingers closing around a book that suddenly felt lighter—emptied rather than inert. The feeling of soul magic that was wrapped around the book felt exhausted.

'Did the visions pause because I had exhausted its magic? Is there a way to recharge it and delve deeper into the memories and knowledge?'. I concluded there would be no more lessons from it—not until it was fed, or repaired, or awakened by some form, or maybe by time itself. I set it back onto the stone and looked around at the plethora of scrolls and stacks of parchment glowing with mana. 'The answer had to be in there somewhere, but it's not a topic to be explored for now.'

I stood there a moment, letting the sensation in my head resolve. The new knowledge hadn't faded—not like a dream, not even like a memory. It felt written into me, not in ink or thought, but in instinct. The anchor point thrummed faintly beneath consciousness, perfectly locatable, perfectly real, and perfectly dangerous if I were foolish enough to push it through the extremes before I was ready. I could feel the tether, the strange metaphysical cord that still linked me to the many mana signatures outside the door: Nalini, Padma, and Mr. Patil, to name a few.

The contract, after all, still needed closure.

I let out a quiet breath as I remembered the terms. To test if I could take the documents out, I walked toward the nearest shelf and scanned until my eyes found something appropriate. A scroll, sealed in lacquer, stamped with an aging sigil, written in Parseltongue: The History of the Lineages. 

I tucked it under my arm and made my way to the door. When I opened it, I didn't step into chaos or violence like I half expected.

Nalini stood closest to the barrier, fully conscious now, hair slightly disheveled but already smoothed back, a light sheen of sweat still visible along her temples, proof she hadn't been awake long. Padma stood beside her, but my eyes focused back on Nalini, her posture straight, her face settled into the expression of someone who has already done the arithmetic of her gains and losses. Her eyes flicked immediately to the scroll and then returned to my face, her mana giving away her suspicion.

Farther back, Mr. Patil hovered with the stillness of a coiled spring. He seemed neither aggressive nor panicked from the outside, but his magic was held so tightly that it looked ready to erupt, and his emotions were less subtle—a tangle of humiliation, relief, and anger.

He did not meet my eyes, but neither did he look away.

I stepped toward the barrier and attempted to pass the scroll through.

It met resistance. The smooth motion of my walking through was jolted as the scroll was stopped dead. The barrier simply refused the object to pass through, as if the scroll were tied to the sanctum's inventory, bound to remain here until the end of time. Fine lines of mana wrapped around the parchment like threads that only existed when directly observed.

I withdrew back into the barrier with the scroll without forcing the issue.

"Should have expected that, if the barrier had allowed this knowledge to leave, Salazar would have already cleaned house." I shrugged as I looked at Nalini, waiting for her to decide.

Nalini's brows pinched faintly as she thought of any countermeasures. Then, after a beat, she spoke—not sharply or impatiently, but with the tone of someone working through an experiment, hoping to find a way.

"Try opening it. Set it down. Just inside the boundary."

I crouched, unrolled the scroll carefully, and let my fingers slip away.

The parchment vanished—not in smoke or light, but in an effortless collapse of space, as if the universe had decided that particular object was now somewhere else and simply updated its own structure to reflect it. The air where it had been hung, faintly shimmering, then resumed its normal shape.

The space-folding was of the same tone I had just seen in Dhanvantri's memories—but this version was built into the room itself, requiring no anchor, no soul manipulation, no mana expenditure from a person.

'Did he find a way to link it through the runes?' It was elegant in a way I had not expected.

The tome hadn't given me everything. It had simply pointed me at the start of the path.

Nalini swore quietly under her breath.

Mr. Patil stepped forward then, a silent exchange passing between the two of them, and he reached into his robes, withdrawing a small satchel. Nalini retrieved a single crystal vial from it, one reinforced with silver runes I recognized—a memory vial, meant to store memories and prevent them from deteriorating.

Then she drew her wand, and for the first time, her gaze met mine directly.

"Let's do this."

She said it simply, without fear, without challenge, without a hint of doubt. A request was made, knowing that they both needed to get out of the contract, as it bound their actions as much as it did mine.

I hesitated for just a moment before I stepped through the barrier. It parted for me like a curtain of mist, offering no resistance. I bent, lifted my discarded robe from beside the ritual circle, and draped it over my shoulders, wrapping it around my frame as I approached her.

She raised her wand to my temple when I stood in front of her with precise control. Her mana was steady, her intent clear, her certainty absolute.

"Focus on the memories," she said softly. "From the moment we pushed through the barrier, until now."

I nodded, my mana senses already locked onto her, noticing no hint of aggression in her, and let my eyes fall half-lidded. The anchor point pulsed once as it noticed the type of mana that left her wand to grab onto memories, and with it came a brief wash of dizziness, like stepping off a boat onto still land. My mind stilled. Then light—soft, silver, wisplike—peeled away from my temple, curling through the air and into the waiting vial.

As soon as she sealed it, the illusory strings of mana lingering from the connections vanished.

The contract dissolved—not as a snap, not as a rupture, but as a relieved exhale passing invisibly between us. I felt lighter. Free again. Fully myself.

"Farewell," I said, and something in Nalini's face shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. She hadn't expected me to make a move so soon.

The coin appeared in my hand as, with a thought, I accessed it through my inventory.

I whispered the activation phrase, the parseltongue syllables curling with the weight of magic and intention.

"~To infinity and beyondss~"

The space around me destabilized—not violently, but with the elegance of a fabric being rearranged by unseen fingers. It began to fold, the air tightening, the floor disagreeing with its own coordinates.

'Wait, did Dhanvantri create the portkey spell? Is it linked to the same form of magic?' I theorized that the three people in front of me would have different reactions to my actions.

Nalini reacted immediately, stepping backward while pulling Padma with her. Her mana screamed in confusion as she looked at the coin that appeared in my hand out of thin air. Mr. Patil raised his wand and fired a spell—the hostile intent was clear as he was now free from the contract.

I felt it with my mana sense that it was the Bombarda charm, and I raised a hand to counter it—already anticipating the spell's speed and trajectory—but I never made contact.

The spell stopped.

The spell froze midway in its path, every particle of red light suspended mid-movement. The air became thick, weighted with anticipation, as if the room had been placed under a magnifying lens.

And then, without apparition, without sound, without even space making room for them—

—Four figures were simply there.

Inserted into the room as though they had always been there. The mana rippling around them centred around the golden colored man as his golden iris met mine for a brief moment. His magic was quiet, yet profoundly layered, so that the air seemed to tilt toward him, covering the four of them.

My eyes moved to the only one among them I knew, his robes fluttering in the wind as he also turned to gaze back at me.

Albus Dumbledore.

He did not reach for his wand.

He did not speak.

He simply looked at me.

And inclined his head, nodded.

That was the last thing I saw.

The portkey grabbed me like a hook behind the navel, and the world folded—and the Patils, the sanctum, the frozen spell, the stone walls, all fell away in a single breath, leaving only motion, wind, and colorful mana teltale of the Portkey.

'So they went to Dumbledore... but who were the other three?'

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AN: And the supposed short arc comes to an end. A short few chapters, likely more than a few, before the second year begins.