The light gate dissolved. Lucian felt the world spin violently as he tore free from the suffocating cage of perception and crashed into an endless sea of stars.
When his vision steadied, he realized he had not returned to the tower.
He stood upon a vast cosmic chessboard.
Silver squares stretched to infinity beneath his feet. Each piece was a living star.
This was a grand arena where the universe itself served as the game.
At the opposite end of the board, the hazy silhouette that had appeared in earlier illusions finally took solid form.
Rowena Ravenclaw.
She wore deep-blue robes. Her features remained indistinct—only her eyes were clear: calm as time itself, heavy with ancient sorrow and utter detachment.
Yet even in this blurred outline there was a presence far beyond any marble statue: the dignity of one who had seen through epochs, the fluid grace of constellations in motion.
"You—a Ravenclaw—and yet not the slightest bit greedy." Rowena spoke. The galaxy rippled in time with her voice.
"You of all people should understand that best, esteemed Founder." Even in this arena capable of crushing mortal souls, Lucian kept his spine straight. He offered a slight, respectful bow.
To the founder of his house. To a tireless pioneer in pursuit of truth.
"Only when reason outweighs greed can one glimpse the exit amid truth's fog. I simply refuse to be distracted by empty noise on the path of seeking."
"Not grasping at omniscience. Not swayed by desire." Rowena inclined her head slightly.
"In a thousand years, you are the first 'variable' to reach this place alive."
She raised her hand. A yellowed, scorched-edged parchment scroll materialized and hovered before Lucian.
Beside it appeared an alchemical workbench laden with materials long extinct: dragon-blood crystal, unicorn natal horn, phoenix bone ash…
"This was my final work in life—an attempt to defy the world-will with transcendence and immortality.
I failed…
And the Philosopher's Stone was merely the first step."
Rowena gestured toward the materials.
"Refine it. Succeed, and you inherit my legacy. Fail…"
Before she finished, Lucian had already stepped to the workbench and unrolled the manuscript.
The pages were crammed with dense alchemical equations and frantic marginal notes—clearly written in a state of extreme agitation.
"One chance only." Rowena's form began to fade, blending into the starfield.
"Begin."
Lucian moved directly to the bench. With a flick of his finger, pale-blue alchemical flame sprang to life.
Following the manuscript's steps, he poured mercury and sulfur into the cauldron, tapping its rim rhythmically with his wand.
"First stage: Nigredo. Return to primal chaos."
The materials decomposed rapidly under the heat, collapsing into a thick black sludge. Death and decay—the foundation of all rebirth.
Lucian pinched a single dragon-blood crystal.
The instant it touched the mercury, the liquid turned thick, dead-lead black.
"Phoenix bone ash—to anchor the soul." He scattered a handful of faintly glowing powder.
From the smoke came the anguished cry of a phoenix. The leaden sludge began to writhe grotesquely, birthing something twisted and alive.
"Second stage: Albedo. Strip away impurity. Reveal truth."
Lucian pushed heart-phase vision to its limit. In his sight the black mass became countless tangled lines of causality.
He held his wand above the cauldron and slowly introduced powdered moonstone.
As the powder fell, the foul black vapor was forcibly peeled away. The liquid shifted from lead-gray to translucent silver, finally flowing with holy radiance.
The starfield chessboard was mirrored in perfect clarity.
Third stage: Rubedo. The critical moment—condensing illusory will into eternal substance.
The manuscript stated clearly:
The red lion is its father, fierce fire its nurse.
When the beast roars in the furnace, feed it the blood of the sun.
From flame separate ice, from coarse extract subtle—in an instant, with utmost caution.
Inside the cauldron, the silver liquid had transmuted into a roaring crimson lion of steam—symbol of magic's most primal, violent tension.
Lucian raised his wand to suppress the temperature—
Then froze.
In the predictive calculus of heart-phase vision, he saw countless gray lines of inevitable failure.
"No."
"Lady Rowena… this is why you failed, isn't it?
You sought stability—and forgot that magic itself is rebellion against stability!"
"Stillness in the wizarding world… is death."
"Incendio Tria!"
BOOM!
The pale-blue flame turned bone-white and sentient—Inferno Fire. Terrifying heat bleached the silver space to ashen pallor.
"Madman…" A soft murmur drifted through the void—whether approval or mockery was impossible to tell.
The red lion inside the cauldron screamed in agony. It disintegrated and reformed—now a coiling red dragon, now three warring lions.
A blinding crimson light erupted, sweeping across the entire star system.
When the glare faded, a thumb-sized crystal lay quietly at the cauldron's base.
Blood-red. Pulsing. Radiating breathtaking, almost obscene vitality.
This was the Philosopher's Stone—born from violation of natural law.
"This… is the correct answer."
The cosmos shuddered.
Rowena's form coalesced once more.
"You are more arrogant than I… and more correct." She drifted closer, brushing a gentle finger across Lucian's brow. "I was defeated by the rules. You… may actually tear this script apart."
The surrounding galaxy began to collapse on a massive scale, dissolving into streams of light that poured into Lucian's body.
"The crown outside has long been tainted by malice—turned into a curse." Rowena whispered near his ear. "The true diadem is this very capacity to examine all things. Go now, child. If you ever meet Helena…"
The witch known as the Wise gave one last, bittersweet mother's smile before fading:
"Tell her Mother never blamed her. I simply… could not defeat fate. But now, someone else has taken up the game."
A shaft of cold moonlight sank into Lucian's brow.
Countless spell essences, rule, world's fatal threads flashed before him—finally condensing into an intricate stellar vortex seal.
This was Rowena Ravenclaw's lifetime of magical insight.
In this moment he could see the magical flow through every brick of the castle, the causal threads drifting in the air, the hidden death angles behind every living thing.
Lucian felt a surge of doubt. The manifestation was too similar to his own heart-phase vision.
…
When Lucian opened his eyes again,
the marble statue stood silent before him.
Yet the weight in his pocket reminded him everything had been real.
At that moment,
a flash of gold-red streaked in. Professor Flitwick burst through the door, wand blazing red, followed by Dumbledore—blue eyes stripped of their usual twinkle, face grave.
Fawkes circled overhead with a long, mournful cry.
"What happened? The energy surge from the tower just now woke creatures in the Forbidden Forest!" Flitwick brandished his wand, scanning the room warily.
Lucian quickly suppressed the lingering starlight in his eyes and leaned against the wall. But that gaze—still burning with the manic fervor of one who had just glimpsed naked truth—made both professors feel a chill.
Lucian's voice was slightly hoarse.
"My apologies. It seems… I may have gone a little overboard."
"Overboard?" Dumbledore surveyed the chamber. Residual magic saturated the air—ancient, pure, overwhelming.
"I believe I have unlocked Rowena Ravenclaw's hidden legacy."
Lucian straightened, speaking as casually as if discussing tonight's pudding flavor.
"But I found Lady Ravenclaw's manuscript quite interesting, so I attempted to realize it alchemically… and caused… a small resonance."
Dumbledore and Flitwick stared at the faint silver starlight still flickering in the boy's eyes—and for once were speechless.
"Merlin's beard…?"
The Ravenclaw Head of House lifted his gaze to his own student. "Merely… for the sake of truth?"
"The thirst for knowledge is difficult to restrain, isn't it, Head of House?"
Lucian offered a polite smile, then turned to the white-bearded elder.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I hope I have not violated school rules. After all, the regulations say nothing about being forbidden to indulge in study after curfew."
Dumbledore's trademark gentle, inscrutable smile returned.
"Of course not, my boy."
His eyes lingered on Lucian's slightly weary face.
"But next time, for research of this magnitude, do inform Professor Flitwick." Dumbledore added mildly, "Some truths are too heavy to carry alone. And besides…"
He twinkled behind half-moon spectacles.
"…you would miss the joy of sharing the discovery. Wouldn't that be a pity?"
Sharing joy? Lucian paused for a fraction of a second.
His gaze briefly met the concerned faces of both professors—then slid away.
He answered in his usual elegant, distant tone:
"Thank you for the suggestion, Headmaster. But the path of truth is, by nature, a solitary journey."
He inclined his head in polite farewell.
"If there is nothing else, I believe I require rest."
He turned and walked away—leaving two of Hogwarts' most powerful minds staring after him in stunned silence.