Bloodline Talent! Blessings Maxed Out!

He came.

Then he left again.

With a flourish of his sleeve.

Leaving behind only Ian, who had failed to get his wish of learning new magic, a bag of newly minted Gold Coins that had somehow been taken out, and a neat living room with the mess thoroughly cleaned up.

"Keep any curiosity you might develop toward Dark Magic under control. Don't let me find out you've been asking around the village about things you shouldn't be asking about. If I catch you trying to find someone to teach you Dark Magic, you're done for!"

Before leaving, Snape had also left behind a blatant threat. Perhaps he was worried about the Pureblood Party Saints who had recently been active in the village, or perhaps he was worried that Ian might really get sent to Azkaban by someone else.

"I promise I won't ask around!"

Ian's trembling response did not reveal whether it satisfied Snape, but in any case, Snape certainly could not have expected that the lasting "control" effect his threat imposed on Ian would not last very long.

The moment Snape left.

Ian rushed into the bathroom.

In no time at all, he opened the toilet tank.

There it was.

Wrapped in oilcloth, Secrets of the Darkest Art lay quietly against the side of the tank—after causing such a huge commotion last night, Ian had taken precautions and hidden it away.

After all, amid all that crackling and popping, a Group of Corpses had Popped Out.

Though he had not expected the person he ran into to be Snape, Ian had still been worried and prepared for the possibility that the unusual events at the Small Wooden House might have been noticed by other wizards.

After all.

Whenever Ian went out to wander around and scavenge for food, he often heard Madam Rosmerta, the tavern owner, gossiping about who in the village had once again been battling a wizard or several Witches in the middle of the night.

If even those sounds could be discovered.

How could Ian not worry that the commotion he had caused would be noticed?

Much of what he had told Snape was true. For example, the part about being terrified—last night, he really had not slept at all, afraid that some wizard would come knocking at his door.

Under such anxious circumstances.

Secrets of the Darkest Art naturally had to be hidden.

At first.

Ian had actually wanted to smash the toilet, hide Secrets of the Darkest Art inside a secret pipe, then use the Reparo Charm to restore the shattered toilet and leave no trace behind.

However.

In the end, he did not do it.

It was not only because he worried that Secrets of the Darkest Art might get flushed away. If it were marinated by indescribable human substances, then the knowledge within it would also be desecrated.

Well.

Desecrating knowledge itself was not much of a problem. What he feared was being tainted by that desecration while learning it... Ian did not want to enroll in school only to earn an evaluation like, "He smells like shit."

Foul-smelling Wizard.

Just thinking of such a title was terrifying enough.

For that reason.

Ian had settled for the next best thing.

Hiding Secrets of the Darkest Art in the toilet tank really was difficult for anyone to discover.

The facts also proved that Snape had never imagined Ian would possess such a comprehensive work on Dark Magic, much less that it was hidden in some corner of the room.

With this textbook.

Why would he need to ask anyone else about Dark Magic?

"My precious~"

Ian merely checked the oilcloth's seal, then hid Secrets of the Darkest Art away again. He had something more important to do than study Dark Magic right now.

Successfully read a Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1

Successfully read a Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1

Successfully read a Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1

That was right.

Copying the books he had rented.

That was the more important task.

Compared with knowledge that he could continue studying at any time, fully copying out the Potions textbooks for all seven grades was what was truly urgent for Ian.

Teacher Mara was a good teacher, but she clearly did not seem like a good wizard.

Who knew whether Teacher Mara would continue teaching him more magic if he failed to finish what he had promised? Or perhaps she would let him personally experience the taste of Dark Magic?

Ian had not had much contact with the mysterious soul in this Misty Illusion, so he could not yet make an accurate judgment. In any case, he would rather make "Little Right" suffer a little more than test her.

At any rate, "Little Right" was not much use at this age.

She might as well be used to copy furiously at a desk.

"Scratch, scratch, scratch~ Scratch, scratch, scratch~ Scratch, scratch, scratch~"

Inside the quiet wooden house.

The friction between the quill and notebook sounded without pause.

Successfully read a Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1

Successfully read a Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1

Successfully read a Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1

The steadily rising proficiency was now Ian's motivation for writing—the village sold quills capable of copying text automatically, and after Snape had "fed" him again, Ian had once more become flush with money.

However.

Ever since discovering last night that copying these textbooks could increase his Potions Mastery skill, Ian had given up on the idea of being lazy by using "technology."

Studying hard enough to burn the midnight oil.

For Ian, that was an interest in itself. Letting knowledge flow through his mind as he copied, leaving behind traces of its passage—what a pleasant thing that was.

"There was once the Half-Blood Prince. Perhaps Hogwarts can produce an Orphan Prince too!"

Ian felt that his talent for Potions was probably not bad either.

After all.

For most Young Wizards, once knowledge like Potions entered their minds, it might even sweep away other knowledge as it flowed out.

Simply through the passive reading while copying, he could gain proficiency. Such a level of talent was basically second only to Ian's somewhat unreasonable talent for Dark Magic.

Well.

For now.

Only his talent for White Magic was a little worse.

He still needed to practice several times before he could learn it, and the interval between proficiency increases during use was more than ten minutes longer than for Potions Mastery.

"If I could receive Dumbledore's guidance, perhaps I could make up for my lack of talent in White Magic?" Ian was also full of anticipation and longing for life after school began.

What?

Dumbledore did not teach magic classes?

Impossible!

Could such a great headmaster refuse a student's eager request to learn?

A thick skin!

That was how you got to eat meat!

Successfully read a Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1

Even when Ian occasionally got distracted while copying, the increase in proficiency merely slowed down. Perhaps this was a latent talent hidden in the Prince Family bloodline.

The quill lightly touched the paper, and the ink slowly dried.

Sunlight shone brightly outside the window.

Inside, only the soft rustle of the pen tip against paper could be heard, Intertwined with the occasional faint sound of turning pages. The air was filled with a light scent of ink and books.

Ian gradually became absorbed.

Focused.