Remembrance, the Departed Professor

Perhaps.

In the girl's heart,

accomplices were a relationship even closer than friends.

Such was the family tradition.

"This man suddenly vanished from town. I'm afraid the Aurors will be drawn here soon." Ian still remembered the wizards on the street saying that even a bar fight could bring the Aurors running.

To the Wizarding World's police, it was as though they had informants everywhere. They might not know what had happened, but they could always sense when something had happened.

Perhaps the Wizarding World had some kind of all-seeing eye too?

Something like the Trace?

"Kraft will take care of everything."

Aurora helped Ian fasten the lid of the wooden box. She seemed long accustomed to such things. Killing someone and disposing of the body—she handled the entire process with practiced ease.

"That's good."

Ian was still somewhat uneasy, but there was clearly nothing he could do. From the moment he entered this bookstore, becoming embroiled in this situation had been unavoidable.

If anyone was to blame, it was the fact that today was unlucky.

He had not spent two more minutes eating at home, nor had he spent another two minutes pulling Ollie Give... Now, it was too late to say anything. The sensitive identity of a Wu orphan had been shrouded in another layer of darkness.

"Was that Fiendfyre you used just now?"

Ian watched as Aurora first washed the floor with water, then destroyed the broom and mop along with it. He felt that he needed some spiritual comfort.

"You want to learn it?"

Aurora seemed to see through Ian's thoughts. It did not take much insight, after all. Ian's slightly shining eyes were filled with curiosity and longing for Fiendfyre.

"Yes. Is it easy for it to get out of control?"

Ian still remembered that, in the original story, one of Malfoy's lackeys had burned himself to death while playing with fire. This spell was terrifying, perhaps far more dangerous than the magic he had tried to strengthen last night.

"It's in the book I gave you. My Grandfather's explanations have always been detailed." Aurora returned behind the counter and sat down again on the backless chair.

"I don't think it should be difficult for you."

As though nothing had happened, she picked up that Ancient Runes notebook again and resumed reading.

"Thanks. I'll look through it when I get back."

Ian could barely wait to slip away.

"Remember to take the trash with you."

Aurora did not look up, her attention once more on the notebook. The trash she meant was clearly the box left on the spot, with traces of corpse ash still clinging to its edges.

"You really know how to order people around."

Ian did not really want to parade through the streets carrying such dangerous goods.

"I haven't been given permission to leave this shop yet. Could you consider it a request?" Aurora spoke helplessly from behind the counter.

"All right. Who asked me to be so willing to help a friend? But next time, you'll have to give me something in return."

Ian looked around and found a piece of burlap to wrap around the wooden box. After checking that no ashes could leak out, he lifted the tightly wrapped box and headed for the door.

"Accomplice."

The girl seriously corrected him once more.

"..."

Ian always felt that it was a title far too close to Azkaban. He hurried out of the Dark Wizard's den and breathed in air that did not reek of burning.

Ian had come.

Then he left again.

When he arrived, he had carried a brand-new book box brimming with knowledge.

When he left, he was carrying an urn filled with a dead man's ashes.

It was still the same box.

Only the nature of its use had changed somewhat.

On the way back,

Ian felt rather nervous. Fortunately, no idle wizard stopped him to question him. Only the Wizard Chess player cheating people out of money on the street warmly greeted him.

With the start of term approaching,

many unfamiliar faces had appeared in Hogsmeade Village. Perhaps this place was nowhere near as prosperous as Diagon Alley, but it was still one of the few places where England's wizards could gather and socialize.

Its history was long.

Its traditions ancient.

On his way back, Ian even saw several young same-sex couples. Like the other wizards along the street, he found it entirely unremarkable.

It might have been the Wizarding World, but it was still England. As everyone knew, England had always been known as Little Chengdu.

"Professor."

"Good morning, Professor."

Along the way,

Ian also saw several clearly adult wizards greeting a woman who was shopping for something in the village. He recognized her as a Hogwarts teacher.

The Head of Gryffindor.

Minerva McGonagall.

She was a Hogwarts professor and the teacher of Transfiguration. Ian did not know why she had come to Hogsmeade Village to shop. Perhaps this professor also had a residence in Hogsmeade Village during ordinary times?

Just like Snape's Small Wooden House.

"You already have children? Crybaby Henry."

"Richard, I heard you passed your Auror examination. Congratulations."

"Daisy, the time you turned your wand into a pig's trotter is still one of my favorite stories to tell in class."

Professor McGonagall seemed to remember every student who had ever graduated, regardless of whether they had come from Gryffindor. She could accurately call each of them by name and recall their embarrassing moments.

Perhaps

only someone who truly loved their profession could remember every detail from their career.

"She doesn't seem as stern as she was in the films. Perhaps because she isn't at school right now." Ian had only watched the scene from afar.

With an urn that could land him in prison for life in his arms, how could he dare approach a professor with such sharp perception? The wisest choice was naturally to avoid those Hogwarts seniors and take another route.

He definitely could not dispose of the urn carelessly. If someone dug it up, things would become serious. Perhaps he could scatter it in the garden, but there was no guarantee Snape would not discover it in the future.

Throw it into the river?

That would also be troublesome if anyone witnessed it.

"Looks like the old ancestors' method is still the most reliable!"

After returning to the Small Wooden House,

Ian pried open the newly laid floorboards, dug into the living room Snape had refilled, and buried the entire wooden box along with the dead man's ashes beneath the Small Wooden House.

"There really is plenty of space here. Burying another ten or eight people probably wouldn't be a problem."

Ian covered the soil again, nailed the living room floorboards back into place, and compared it with the previous layout. Only after finding no trace of anything unusual did he breathe a sigh of relief and begin filling his stomach with cauldron cakes.

After eating and drinking his fill,

Ian pulled the hidden Secrets of the Darkest Art out of the toilet tank.

"I'm still too weak!"

Before today,

Ian had actually been rather pleased with himself. After all, he was so young and already held Avada's truth in his hands. It would have been impossible for him not to be at least a little full of himself.

However,

the silently cast Fiendfyre from someone his own age made him realize once more that this world lacked neither geniuses nor conflicts that could erupt into violence at the slightest disagreement.

Only the strong could survive.

The weak could only be boxed up and buried underground.

Not wanting to cause trouble did not mean trouble would not come looking for him.

"In this cruel Wizarding World, I'm practically walking on thin ice!"

Remembering the adult wizard who had been burned alive, Ian understood that only by working even harder to improve himself could he gain enough security.

"The great man was right. Peaceful, stable lives only exist within the range covered by Avada Lightning Chain..."

He opened the book.

Under the glow of his wand,

for the first sprout of an ideal, forbidden knowledge revealed itself.