Elian pulled Tuffy from his robes.
"All right, little friend, it's your turn now," he said softly, stroking the tiny dragon's head.
He raised his hand, ready to press his ring against Tuffy. But before he could, the black stud in his ear gave a sudden gleam, cold and sharp.
And then, in an instant, the world around him vanished. Elian was back in the void.
"Oh, Merlin!" Elian cursed, throwing up his hands. "Why now, dammit?!"
Before he could move, the faceless man materialized before him, stepping out of nothingness itself.
"I believe I've interrupted something rather important, Elian," the faceless man said, his voice curling into an unsettling smirk.
Elian's expression stayed flat. "Oh, you think? Then do me a favour and send me back, will you?"
"Your frustration blinds you, Elian," the faceless man said, his finger tilting toward him in mocking amusement. "Until now, you couldn't even speak or move here."
"I don't care about that right now!" Elian snapped. "You've dragged me here whenever you feel like it. I don't even know what you are, and I'm not even allowed to ask! And now, when I'm in the middle of something important, you rip me out of it!"
"You can ask me anything now," the faceless man said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"I don't have time!" Elian roared. "My friend is in danger, and I need to be there! You told me I'd have time to do what I need, not what I want—and this is what I need right now. So for Merlin's sake, send me back!"
A knowing smirk crept across the faceless man's featureless visage.
"Then prove it," he said softly. "Show me this is truly what you need."
With a snap of his fingers, four doors materialized before Elian, lined up side by side in the endless void. Each bore symbols strangely reminiscent of Elian's own ornaments.
"Cross all four gates at once," the faceless man continued, his voice cold and unyielding, "and prove the depth of your desperation."
And with that, the faceless man vanished before Elian could ask another word.
Elian turned in circles, searching for any clue, but the void remained silent and empty.
He approached the first door, the one etched with a symbol like his ring, and pushed. It didn't move.
"Alohomora," he whispered, but the door didn't even tremble.
Scowling, Elian tried circling behind the row of doors, but the void betrayed him. An invisible wall pressed against his palms, cold and immovable.
Elian closed his eyes, forcing himself to think. If the doors were bound to his ornaments, then the answer had to lie there.
He sifted through his memories one by one, circling back again and again until his thoughts settled on the day he first received them.
The first and last thing his mother had ever given him… No, not a gift. He remembered the letter clearly now. She had written that the ornaments were part of his very soul. Back then, he hadn't understood. But now—standing here in the void—he thought he finally did.
Elian drew in a heavy breath and reached for his ring.
"Here we go," he muttered, tugging at it.
To his surprise, the ring slid free, no longer bound to his skin as it always had been. Heart pounding, he tried the others in turn. The bracelet slipped off, then the black stud, then the silver chain.
He stared at them in his palm for a moment, strange without their familiar weight. Then, with deliberate care, he placed each ornament before the door marked with its matching symbol.
Now what? Elian thought, pressing his fists against his temples. He racked his mind, forcing himself to dig deeper for anything, any connection to his ornaments he might have overlooked. His memories swirled like scattered pages in a storm, and he cursed under his breath, desperate to find the thread that would tie it all together.
"The wands!" Elian gasped, yanking all four from his robes. He wove them between his fingers, their familiar weight settling against his palms. Each wand hummed faintly, echoing the warmth he remembered from its matching ornament.
He shut his eyes, steadying his breath for just a moment, then snapped them open and brought the wands down in a swift arc toward the ornaments.
Cyan sparks burst from each wand, streaking toward the ornaments. A blinding light swallowed the entire void, forcing Elian to shield his eyes.
When he opened them again, the darkness was gone. He was back in the chamber of Snape's enchantments, lying on the cold stone floor, ornaments intact and back on his body. Tuffy was perched on his head, claws pricking his scalp as if trying to wake him from a nightmare.
Without a moment to lose, Elian sprang to his feet, grabbed Tuffy's hand, and touched him with his ring. The little dragon grew just enough to reach the chamber ceiling, large enough for Elian to ride, but not so big as to crash through it.
Elian waved, and Tuffy bowed his head obediently. With a gentle stroke, Elian steadied him.
"Let's do this, Tuffy," he said.
BOOM! The dragon lunged toward the wall of the next chamber, the black flames licking the doorway but failing to harm him thanks to his magical resistance.
The chamber trembled violently, dust and shards of stone raining down as Tuffy crashed through. Elian steadied himself on the dragon's back, his eyes sweeping the room.
Harry lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious. Across from him, Quirrell, without his turban, clutched his face in agony, his skin blistering and peeling across his hands and cheeks. Yet despite his torment, there was no trace of surprise in his eyes at Elian's arrival, nor even at the sight of the dragon beneath him.
"Why… you again!" A voice hissed, but it wasn't Quirrell who spoke.
"Turn. I want to see his face," the voice commanded.
"But, master—the Stone—!" Quirrell gasped through his pain.
"If he dies, the Stone won't matter," the voice snapped.
With trembling hands, Quirrell turned. What Elian saw froze him for a moment in sheer disgust.
A second face jutted grotesquely from the back of Quirrell's skull, chalk white skin, burning crimson eyes, and slit-like nostrils like a serpent's.
"Remember me, Elian Vale!" the thing screeched.
"I've never seen you before in my life," Elian said flatly. Then, with the faintest smirk, he added, "But I have to say, you're uglier than I expected, Voldemort."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "So… you truly don't remember." His voice sank to a whisper, then twisted into sharp, chilling laughter. "All the better. Killing you will be—"
"Do it, Tuffy," Elian interrupted, his voice firm.
At once, the dragon swung its massive claw, scooping Harry's limp body gently and placing him on its back behind Elian.
"See you later, Voldemort, if you manage to survive this," Elian said, running his hand over Tuffy's scales.
The dragon's maw opened wide, and a torrent of searing flame erupted, sweeping across the chamber. Quirrell's scream tore through the blaze, shrill and desperate, until it was suddenly cut short.
"Stop, Tuffy," Elian commanded.
The dragon closed its jaws, the torrent of fire sputtering out. Smoke and heat still shimmered through the chamber, which was now reduced to rubble and ash.
Elian slid down from Tuffy's back, his boots crunching over the scorched stone. He stepped carefully toward the charred remains, his eyes narrowing. Something gnawed at him, he had only heard Quirrell's screams, not Voldemort's.
"He already left, Elian," a gentle and familiar voice spoke from behind.
"So, you finally came, eh?" Elian turned.
It was Dumbledore.
"Forgive my delay," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "But this old man deserves a little slack."
"Even though you knew everything," Elian replied coldly. His voice carried no respect, only accusation.
Dumbledore, however, seemed more interested in Tuffy. His eyes softened as he reached out to stroke the dragon's warm scales. "He is more obedient than I imagined."
Elian smirked, though not with his usual wit, this one carried exhaustion.
"I don't know how much you really knew about my mother, these ornaments, or even about me, but I'm certain you're holding something back."
"Elian," Dumbledore said gently, "even I have limits. There are mysteries beyond me, and one of them is you."
"Professor Dumbledore," Elian replied, his tone sharper now, "when people don't understand something, they usually approach it with caution, or with fear. Yet I don't see either in you."
"Because you've proven, time and again, that you don't need to be feared," Dumbledore said calmly.
Elian narrowed his eyes.
"You know everything about Voldemort, don't you?" he asked.
"That depends on what you intend to ask," Dumbledore replied.
"Voldemort spoke as if he already knew me," Elian said, "but I've never met him before."
"As I said, Elian, even I don't fully understand you," Dumbledore said. "And about Voldemort already knowing you… that is something you'll discover on your own, perhaps in the coming years."
Elian let out a quiet sigh.
"Then I suppose there's nothing more to ask," he muttered, walking toward Tuffy and giving the dragon a final stroke.
"Professor, I have a request," Elian said. "Could you please hand Tuffy to Hagrid?"
Dumbledore's smile was gentle and knowing.
"Keeping dragons is illegal, Elian," he said.
"Only if they're visible to the naked eye," Elian replied, shrinking Tuffy with his ring.
"Now... I think it will be fine," Dumbledore said, amused.
"I'll see you later, friend," Elian whispered, as he entrusted Tuffy to Dumbledore's care.
"Professor, I have one final request," Elian said.
"You are rather demanding for your age, aren't you?" Dumbledore replied with a small smile.
"May I leave Hogwarts early?" Elian asked.
"And how early are we talking?"
"Let's see, How about now," Elian said.
"But don't you want to spend a little more time with your friends before summer break? Or… want the Stone?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.
"Oh," Elian said, pausing. "So you already knew I wanted the Stone. But I don't need it anymore. If everything is meant to happen in its own time, then only time can help me understand myself."
"And about my friends," Elian continued, "after everything that's happened, they need time to process it all. Besides, I can't keep up with Granger's questions. She'll ask about all of this eventually, because let's face it—keeping secrets at Hogwarts is nearly impossible."
Dumbledore chuckled.
"Alright then. Just tell me one last thing, will you be returning next year?"
Elian smirked.
"If you're keeping this many secrets, Professor, let's keep this one a secret as well."