What exactly did Ian discover?
It's not a big deal.
Instead, Ian noticed a very faint but definitely present and peculiar fluctuation emanating from the abdomen of the smiling brown-haired Girl had struck up the conversation.
It was a new kind of "life aura" that was both closely connected to and independent of the Girl's own life energy.
Common name.
Human cub.
The aura was still very immature and unstable, meaning that the gestation period was not long, perhaps only a few weeks. What made Ian's eyes narrow even more was that the energy characteristics of this new life's aura were clearly different and disconnected from those of the Girl in front of him and her blonde companion. It was not a sense of continuity inherited from either of them.
" Occupation involving surrogacy?"
Ian was stunned.
At the same time, Ian also detected an extremely subtle energy fluctuation emanating from the Girl, a mixture of excitement, a thirst for stimulation, and a hint of barely perceptible fatigue—a contradictory energy.
This fluctuation didn't quite match the calm, reserved, and protective state that a newborn mother should typically possess. A split-second realization dawned on Ian. This seemingly cheerful and bold Girl, trying to strike up a conversation with a handsome stranger outside the art museum, was not only pregnant, but... judging from the "alienation" in her energy field, the child in her womb was probably not directly related to either of the two Girl before him.
More likely, she is merely a "vessel." And her current behavior clearly shows no restraint due to her pregnancy, even suggesting a "live for the moment" attitude.
"Tsk tsk tsk."
A trace of extremely weak emotion passed through Ian's heart. The open concept, the behavior of seeking excitement, and some kind of... indifference or helplessness to the consequences of one's own actions, it seems that there is really no absolute relationship with the times. In any era, there are always shadows under the sun, and the complexity of human nature has never changed. "What's wrong?"
The Girl was still confused by Ian's gaze.
"Nothing."
Ian smiled slightly.
His gaze lingered on the brown-haired Girl's face for less than half a second.
His eyes remained calm and unwavering, revealing not a trace of anything unusual. He nodded slightly again, said nothing more, and turned to continue along the path. The two Girl seemed to whisper something behind him, their laughter tinged with regret and a hint of resentment, but they didn't follow. Ian quickly forgot about this little incident. He crossed the edge of St James's Park, glancing at the imposing grey walls and fluttering flags of the Buckingham Palace in the distance.
They didn't get close.
The trees in the park are tinged with autumn colors, waterfowl swim on the lake, and couples taking walks and jogging in twos and threes.
He sat for a while on a bench facing the lake, watching the sunset paint the clouds golden red and gild the lake with shimmering gold. An elderly gentleman in a wool coat, leading a corgi, sat down next to him. The dog curiously sniffed his shoes, Ian reached out and gently stroked its fluffy head.
The old gentleman returned a friendly smile.
As dusk fell and the city lights began to twinkle, London's streetlights illuminated the buildings, outlining their silhouettes. Ian stood up, feeling a pang of hunger in his stomach. Remembering the steak pie he had planned to try, he headed towards Covent Garden, a place famous for its markets and theaters, as well as its many authentic little restaurants.
"It's still early before the agreed time." Walking through the Street gradually shrouded in twilight, neon lights began to flicker, and faint music and noise emanated from bars. Passing a record store, the window was covered with posters of currently popular bands. Ian stopped to look and recognized a few names. The music of this era certainly had a unique vitality.
"But I still prefer eating." Finally, Ian found a little pub called " The Iron Anchor and Oar " on a back street that supposedly made excellent pies.
The storefront was low, with warm yellow light streaming through the windows. Pushing open the door, the interior was small, furnished with wooden tables and chairs, and a bar counter piled high with various bottles of liquor. The air was thick with the rich aromas of beer, grilled meat, and baked pies. It was dinner time, and the place was almost full of local regulars, bustling with noise. Ian finally found an empty seat in a corner behind the bar. The bartender, a burly man with a thick beard, boomed, "What would you like to eat, buddy?"
"Signature steak and kidney pie, a serving of potato wedges, and a light beer," Ian ordered quickly. He was meeting the Dark Lord tonight, so he needed a little drink to bolster his courage.
"Alright! Wait here!" the bartender called out, taking the order towards the kitchen. Thanks to Ian's disguise magic, he didn't realize that Ian was actually a fifteen-year-old boy.
While waiting, Ian listened to the lively conversations of the customers around him, ranging from football results and union strikes to newly released movies and everyday family matters—all brimming with the vibrant energy of life.
Ian's beer arrived first, its foam fine and its malty aroma rich. Soon after, steaming hot pies were served on heavy earthenware plates. The crust was baked to a golden brown and crispy perfection; when gently broken open with a fork, it revealed thick, dark brown gravy encasing large chunks of tender beef and... kidneys.
"It's no use replacing this now."
Ian had no prejudice against kidneys. He took a bite and found that they were stewed until extremely tender and flavorful. The unique flavor of the kidneys was perfectly blended with the rich meat juices and spices, with no unpleasant odor.
The pie crust soaked up the broth and was incredibly delicious.
The fried potato wedges were crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, sprinkled with salt and herbs—a perfect combination. This dinner was simple and rustic, yet incredibly satisfying, soothing the fatigue and energy depleted after an afternoon of shopping.
He ate slowly and deliberately, enjoying the pure pleasure that the food brought him.
The pub's noise seemed to provide the perfect backdrop for his meal. An elderly man sitting next to him, wearing a baseball cap and looking like a dockworker, struck up a conversation, probably because he was a stranger and seemed to be enjoying his food: "Young man, is this your first time here? Their pies are the best in the neighborhood!" "They really are," Ian replied with a smile, raising his beer glass.
"Right! I've been eating here for twenty years!" the old man said proudly, then started complaining about prices and the weather. Ian just listened with a smile, occasionally chiming in. This kind of brief, selfless exchange between strangers felt real and interesting to him.
After eating and drinking to their hearts' content, and paying the bill, Ian was once again struck by the affordable prices of this era.
"Alright, soon I'll be facing the real, cruel magical world." Ian walked out of the tavern. Night had fallen, and London's night lights shone brightly, a stark contrast to the grayness of the daytime, possessing a unique charm. A cool breeze brushed his face, carrying the dampness from the direction of the River Thames. He wandered aimlessly along the Street, digesting his food and sorting out his thoughts. The raven's invitation, the hints from Jorkins, the possible mastermind, and the undercurrents swirling in the Wizarding World of this era... all these required his careful consideration. But at this moment...
He was still somewhat reluctant to leave behind this last stretch of leisurely time that belonged to "ordinary tourists".
Ian walked through the brightly lit theater district, posters advertising the latest plays and musicals; past the still bustling market square, where many stalls had closed but the cafes and food stalls were still lit; through some quiet, upscale residential areas, warm lights emanating from windows and the flickering blue glow of televisions...
Before he knew it, he had arrived at a relatively open riverside area.
This isn't a famous tourist spot; there are no noisy tourists or crowds taking photos. Only a few strollers and couples strolling hand in hand move slowly through the night.
As if afraid of disturbing the river's whispers.
certainly.
It's also possible they're looking for an opportunity to make a move.
It all depends on whether or not you use literary descriptions.
Anyway, in Ian's eyes, he was currently being incredibly artistic, so he forced himself not to think about it in a negative way. He looked at the river, its waters swaying and breaking with the waves.
Like a scattered galaxy.
"Places like this would have fallen into disrepair by my time." Ian slowed his pace, his shoes making a soft, rhythmic sound as they crunched on the slightly damp cobblestones.
Not far ahead, an old man was slowly strolling with a golden retriever on a leash. The dog would occasionally stop to sniff the lampposts by the roadside, its tail wagging lazily. Further ahead, a young couple sat side by side on a bench by the water. The Girl rested her head on the boy's shoulder. Neither of them spoke; they simply gazed at each other in silence.
Perhaps she's enjoying love.
It could also be that they are planning their marriage.
"Will I run into Harry Potter's mom in this era?" Just as Ian was wondering about this, a young man on a skateboard sped past.
The other person's earphone cord swayed slightly in the wind.
A mother and daughter walked by, talking in hushed tones. The little Girl pointed at the water and exclaimed, "The stars have fallen into the river!" Further away, a street performer gently played a melody on his guitar, but no one could hear it.
The river flowed silently, and the city's light and shadow intertwined in his eyes.
In the distance, the outlines of several bridges were clearly visible in the night, with traffic flowing like a river, and lights outlining flowing bands of light on the bridge cables and bodies. One of the bridges had ancient piers and dim lighting, casting a long shadow on the dark water, which swayed, twisted, broke, and then reformed violently with the waves.
It truly deserves the description of "the bridge's shadow swaying."
Ian stopped and looked at the bridge.
Could it be there?
"As Night Curtain falls, the bridge's shadow sways."
The time hadn't come yet, so he wasn't in a hurry.
Ian leaned against a stone riverbank railing, gazing at the river and the lights on the opposite bank, letting the night breeze caress him. His mind replayed the events of the afternoon.
The innocent smiles of children and the hardships of fundraising in the flea market, the quiet moments in the café, the enthusiasm of tourists in the square, the Girl ' bold advances and the stories behind them, the rustic food and straightforward conversations in the pub, and the flowing river and shadows under the night sky...
This is London decades before his time—a city with history, vitality, predicaments, hope, ordinary warmth, and the dark side of humanity.
Real and complex.
Ian enjoyed half a day immersing himself as an "outsider." But now, it's time to reclaim his identity as " Raven " and confront those extraordinary puzzles and challenges.
"Why!"
He let out a soft breath, and the white mist quickly dissipated in the cold night sky. Just then, as if sensing something, he looked up at the southeastern night sky.
Ian saw nothing.
but.
Almost at the same moment.
Somewhere very, very far away.
The top floor of an ancient stone tower, far from the hustle and bustle of the world and hidden within a complex Space Magic. There are no windows here, only a few floating crystals emitting a soft, moonlit glow.
The interior furnishings are extremely simple.
There was only a stone table, a high-backed chair, and ancient scrolls and books piled high on the surrounding bookshelves. The air was crisp and filled with the scent of Parchment, dried herbs, and some kind of chilling Potions.
A figure sat in a high-backed chair, with his back to the entrance.
He was draped in a dark gray cloak of peculiar texture, the hood obscuring his head and face, revealing only a wrinkled yet remarkably steady hand gripping the armrest of the chair.
On the stone table beside him lay a huge, heavy book. The pages were not paper, but rather some kind of animal hide, with complex and incomprehensible writing and patterns on them.
It emitted a faint magical glow.
Hehehehe~
Suddenly, from the only ventilation window at the top of the tower, came the extremely faint sound of wings breaking through the air.
Immediately afterward, a dark shadow, like a drop of ink blending into the night, silently passed through the imperceptible Magic Barrier and slipped into the room. It was the magical raven with jet-black feathers and wingtips that shimmered with a ghostly blue light.
Without making a sound, it flew straight to the stone table and landed gracefully next to the wrinkled hand, just inches from the open ancient book.
The crow tilted its head, its beady black eyes fixed on the figure beneath the cloak, as if reporting that its mission was complete.
"Did you agree?"
The figure beneath the cloak seemed to move slightly.
The strong yet aged hand that rested on the armrest slowly rose and gently stroked the crow's smooth, satin-like back feathers. The crow obediently nuzzled his fingers.
Then, a strange thing happened.
With that gentle touch, the crow's body suddenly began to become transparent and blurred from the edges, like pencil lines erased by an eraser.
The process Silencio and incredibly fast. In the blink of an eye, the living, breathing, and incredibly intelligent magical raven was right next to the hand.
They've completely disappeared.
Where it disappeared, on the smooth, cool surface of the stone table, appeared out of thin air a steaming, neatly wrapped pie...
The pie, wrapped in parchment paper, was square in shape, and one could vaguely see that it contained a freshly baked steak pie with a golden, crisp crust. A wisp of enticing aroma, a blend of beef, gravy, and baked flour, rose gently, creating a strange mingling with the cool Parchment and herbal scents inside the pie. Yes.
Ian hadn't been mistaken about the aroma of the food he smelled earlier.
The crow was truly a product of Transfiguration.
It's still the food that changed.
It was clear that the spellcaster's skill level was absolutely top-notch in the Wizarding World. The hand that had just stroked the raven paused in mid-air for a moment, seemingly unsurprised by the disappearance of the lingering feather sensation on the palm and the appearance of the steaming pie before it. The old man's fingers twitched slightly, as if sensing something. Then, the hand slowly reached for the pie that had appeared out of thin air and picked it up. The oil paper wrapping conveyed a real, warm touch.
Beneath the cloak, a whisper, so soft it was almost inaudible, seemed to carry a mixture of ancient wisdom and a hint of amusement, echoing through the silent top of the tower:
"That guy... actually has a pretty good appetite for this era."
As the words fell, silence returned to the tower. Only the clear light of the crystal illuminated the ancient books spread out on the stone table, and the oil paper wrapping that had been picked up and placed back on the edge of the pages, still radiating the warmth of food. The warmth rose and twisted slowly in the cold light, like some silent message.