Unexpected! Arriving Faster Than Tomorrow!

Hogsmeade Village was peaceful yet bustling after the sun rose.

Between the cottages, thin wisps of cooking smoke curled upward, intertwining with the morning mist. Though the hour was early, many wizards were already wandering the streets, drinking, joking, and enjoying their leisure.

The windows of the small wooden house were not large, but they were fitted with transparent glass; whenever sunlight pierced the clouds and spilled gently down, it cast mottled shadows across the interior.

Vines occasionally wound around the window frames, dotted with small, nameless flowers among the green leaves that swayed in the breeze, releasing a faint fragrance mixed with the scent of earth.

"Brush your teeth! Wash your face! Welcome a brand new day!"

This was not Ian's second day in Hogsmeade Village; in fact, he had already been here for several days, during which Snape, who had dumped him here, had not visited even once.

If not for the fact that Ian's ability to take care of himself far exceeded that of his peers, the difficulty of a ten-year-old boy living alone in a strange place would surely have been no less than surviving in the wilderness.

"Eat a honey-filled pastry and start a self-disciplined day!"

Ian had become completely familiar with the various environments of this place. He first bought breakfast at Honeydukes Sweetshop, then circled around to the Three Broomsticks Pub to buy a glass of lemonade.

"It's a pleasure to see you, little Ian."

The pub owner, Rosmerta, was a woman who still possessed a lingering charm; the allure refined by time could captivate many regular customers, though it clearly had no effect on Ian whatsoever.

He preferred bright-eyed young girls.

"I would also be very happy to see you, Ms. Rosmerta, if you could sell me a Butterbeer." Ian's eyes remained fixed on the liquor cabinet behind Rosmerta.

He had always been interested in the Butterbeer that everyone praised, but unfortunately, despite several attempts over the past few days, he had never been able to get his wish.

Sometimes, even Galleons lose their effectiveness.

"If you could grow to thirteen years old right now, I would certainly be very happy to buy you a drink." This was clearly another one of Rosmerta's polite refusals to Ian.

"Rules are rigid, but people are flexible. You can only make big money if you know how to adapt."

Ian still refused to give up.

"That's an interesting argument, but compared to the elusive prospect of making big money, I think a fine from the Ministry of Magic is likely much closer to me."

Rosmerta smiled and handed Ian a glass of lemonade.

The unsweetened lemonade was so sour that Ian's face twisted.

He certainly couldn't blame anyone else.

He could only blame himself for not being able to get used to the tea served here, which was always mixed with milk and sugar.

"Wide awake! Wide awake! This batch of lemons must have been sprayed with acid-enhancers!"

Ian's eyes, which had been somewhat sleepy, instantly became much clearer.

"Hahaha, I don't sell that kind of lemon; I just squeezed two extra ones for you!" Rosmerta laughed happily and snatched the money Ian had placed on the table.

She was clearly guarding against any potential refund attempt from Ian.

"..."

Ian faced the "full-blown malice" of an adult wizard.

What could he do?

He could only mutter "I earned two lemons" as self-consolation, stuff two Peppermint Toads into his mouth, and quickly retreat from the lair of this "evil witch."

He had become a familiar face in many of the town's shops over these past few days, and he could be considered to have integrated into the environment very quickly; most young wizards simply didn't have his level of adaptability.

To be honest.

Even now, Ian hadn't fully adapted to the lifestyle of the wizards here.

The cost of living was much higher than in the Muggle world.

If not for the cold, hard Galleons left behind by Snape, he might have been reduced to a little boy selling wild vegetables on the street corner—the kind that even Ron would call pathetic.

"Little Ian, want to play another game of Wizard's Chess?"

Besides the shops, there were all sorts of vendors along the cobblestone streets. A middle-aged wizard wearing a ridiculous top hat waved enthusiastically at Ian.

He was a chess player who set up a stall here specifically to challenge others. The fee wasn't expensive—one Silver Sickle per game—and if you won, you could get five Silver Sickles from him.

"You'd better go scam someone else; I'm still just a child." Ian's gaze lingered on the moving chess pieces on the table for only a brief moment.

He refused firmly.

The reason, naturally, was that he had already been scammed out of several Silver Sickles by this player. The man understood psychology and always managed to create the impression that you had only lost by a narrow margin.

Whether it was a Wizard's Chess novice like Ian or those old hands who had been playing for years, everyone ended up handing over a Silver Sickle with a sigh of "what a pity."

At the very beginning.

Ian had thought he might be some kind of peerless Wizard's Chess genius, but ever since he saw an international Wizard's Chess competitor also hand over a Silver Sickle with a sigh of "what a pity," he understood the money-making scheme used by the devious player and never attempted to challenge him again.

"Seriously, you have talent. Practice more, and maybe you'll win."

The stall-holding chess player's voice was dead serious.

Ian pretended not to hear him.

He trotted away, distancing himself from one of the unforgivable vices of gambling.

"Incendio!"

The sound of the incantation rang out.

A wisp of flame erupted from the tip of the elder wand.

Just as Ian had planned.

Back in the small wooden cabin.

He began his daily routine of self-discipline.

He had already mastered four spells from The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1—the Wand-Lighting Charm, the Levitation Charm, the Unlocking Charm, and the Mending Charm—all of which had reached the entry-level of rank one.

The one he was currently practicing was his fifth, and it was one of the few practical spells in the first-year textbook capable of inflicting even a modicum of damage.

Incendio.

It was a spell that summoned a jet of flame used to ignite objects; most of the time, it served merely as a substitute for a Muggle lighter or a blowtorch.

However.

If the flames released by the spell were to hit a person, they would inevitably cause burns, making it one of the few offensive options available to a first-year wizard.

"Incendio!"

"Incendio!"

"Incendio!"

The flickering light of the flames flashed on and off.

The proficiency on Ian's personal panel continued to rise.

[Incendio (Rank 1): 1/100]

As the skill on his personal panel reached rank one, a familiar sense of exhaustion washed over Ian's entire body. He knew it was time to pause his studies for the day.

Tidying up the place.

Doing the laundry.

There was actually quite a lot to do. Life without a television, while lacking the joys brought by technology, possessed a unique sense of fulfillment.

As night fell.

Ian went to bed earlier than usual. There was no other reason than the fact that today was that special day again, the day he would enter the world of Limbo in his sleep.

"I have to see if Ariana has returned."

As his consciousness crossed a certain boundary in his slumber, stepping into that world of the dead completely isolated from the mortal realm, Ian slowly opened his eyes on the flip side of reality.

"Hm?"

The scene before him slowly came into focus.

However.

Ian did not see the dreamlike meadows and skies, nor did he see the familiar lush trees and welcoming birds; it was as if he had arrived in a place entirely foreign to him.

A palace.

Magnificent and opulent.

After Ian appeared.

Countless pieces of furniture seemed to come alive, sprouting arms and legs as they began to scramble away in a panic.

"A human! It's a human!"

"How terrifying!"

"Waaah!! Help!"

Amidst the deafening chaos.

Only a single golden bench remained unchanged.

"This is truly... unexpected."

The witch sat perched upon it.

She looked up at her visitor.