Bloodline Talent! Gifts Maxed Out!

Bloodline Talent! Maxed-out Gift!

He came.

He left again.

With a wave of his sleeve.

He left behind only Ian, who hadn't managed to learn the fresh magic he'd hoped for, a pouch of new gold coins he'd been inexplicably forced to take out, and a tidy living room where the mess had been perfectly cleared away.

"Suppress any curiosity you might have about Dark Magic. Don't let me find out you're poking around the village asking about things you shouldn't. If I catch you trying to get someone to teach you Dark Magic, you're finished!"

Before Snape left, he had delivered a blunt threat. Perhaps he was worried about the Acolytes of Grindelwald active in the village lately, or perhaps he was worried that Ian would actually end up getting himself sent to Azkaban by someone else.

"I promise I won't ask around!"

Ian's trembling response didn't seem to satisfy Snape, but regardless, Snape certainly could not have anticipated that the "control" effect his threat exerted over Ian wouldn't last very long.

The moment Snape was gone.

Ian rushed into the bathroom.

In a few quick movements, he opened the toilet tank.

There it was.

Secrets of the Darkest Art, wrapped in oilcloth, lay quietly against the side of the tank—ever since the commotion last night, Ian had taken the precaution of hiding it there.

After all, with all that crackling and popping, a group of corpses had crawled out; it had been quite a scene.

Although he hadn't expected to run into Snape, Ian had been worried and prepared for the possibility that the unusual activity at the cabin might be detected by other wizards.

After all.

Every day when he went out to wander and forage, Ian often heard the pub owner, Rosmerta, gossiping about who in the village had been fighting a wizard or multiple witches in the middle of the night.

If even those kinds of sounds could be detected.

How could Ian not worry about the commotion he had caused being discovered?

Much of what he told Snape was the truth; for instance, the part about being terrified. He really hadn't slept a wink last night, fearing a wizard might show up at his door.

Under such anxious circumstances.

Secrets of the Darkest Art certainly needed to be hidden.

At first.

Ian had actually wanted to smash the toilet, hide Secrets of the Darkest Art in the secret piping, and then use a [Reparo] spell to restore the toilet to its original state, making the whole thing completely undetectable.

However.

He didn't end up doing that in the end.

It wasn't just the fear that Secrets of the Darkest Art might get washed away; if it were marinated in the unspeakable filth of humanity, the knowledge within Secrets of the Darkest Art would be considered desecrated.

Well.

The knowledge being desecrated wasn't the biggest issue; the fear was that while learning the knowledge, he would become tainted by that desecration... Ian didn't want to earn a reputation once he started school like, "He smells like excrement."

[The Dung-Scented Wizard]

Just thinking about such a title was terrifying enough.

Because of this.

Ian had made the next best choice.

Hiding Secrets of the Darkest Art inside the toilet tank was, in fact, very difficult for anyone to discover.

The facts also proved that Snape had never anticipated that Ian would obtain such a masterpiece of Dark Magic, let alone that it was hidden in a corner of the room.

With this textbook.

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

"My precious~"

Ian simply checked the seal on the oilcloth before tucking Secrets of the Darkest Art back into its hiding spot. He had more important things to do than study Dark Magic right now.

[Successfully copied Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1]

[Successfully copied Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1]

[Successfully copied Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1]

Yes.

Copying the rented books.

That was the more important task.

Compared to knowledge that could be studied at any time, completely transcribing the Potions textbooks for all seven years was the most pressing matter for Ian.

Mara was a good teacher, but she clearly didn't seem like a good witch.

Heaven knows if he failed to finish what he promised, whether Mara would continue to teach him more magic, or perhaps let him experience the taste of Dark Magic firsthand?

Ian did not have much contact with the mysterious soul within this Limbo, and he could not yet make an accurate judgment. In any case, he would rather let Migi suffer a bit more than risk testing it.

Anyway, Migi had no real use at this age.

It was better to put it to work copying books.

"Swish, swish, swish~ swish, swish, swish~ swish, swish, swish~"

Inside the quiet wooden cabin.

The friction between the quill and the notebook rang out incessantly.

[Successfully copied Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1]

[Successfully copied Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1]

[Successfully copied Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1]

The constantly increasing proficiency was the motivation for Ian's writing—quills that could automatically transcribe text were sold in the village, and Ian, having been "fed" by Snape again, had become wealthy and generous once more.

However.

Ever since he discovered last night that transcribing these textbooks could bring him an increase in his Potions Mastery skill, Ian had abandoned the idea of taking the lazy route with "technology."

Hardcore, grinding study.

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

In the past, there was the Half-Blood Prince; who's to say Hogwarts couldn't produce an Orphan Prince as well!

Ian felt that his talent for Potions was likely not bad at all.

After all.

For most young wizards, knowledge like Potions, once it entered their minds, might even sweep away other knowledge when it flowed back out.

Being able to gain proficiency just from the passive effect of copying—such a level of talent was basically second only to Ian's somewhat unreasonable talent for Dark Magic.

Hmm.

As it currently stood.

Only his talent for White Magic was a bit lacking.

It required repeated practice to learn, and the interval for gaining proficiency while using it was also ten minutes longer compared to Potions Mastery.

If I could receive Dumbledore's guidance, perhaps I could make up for my shortcomings in White Magic? Ian was full of anticipation and longing for his school life after the term began.

What?

Dumbledore didn't teach magic courses?

That was impossible!

Could the great Headmaster really refuse a student's eager request to learn?

Thick skin!

That was the only way to truly get ahead!

[Successfully copied Potions textbook, Potions Mastery +1]

Even when Ian occasionally let his mind wander while copying, the increase in proficiency only slowed down; this was perhaps the recessive talent hidden within the Prince family bloodline.

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

Outside the window, the sunlight was bright and clear.

Inside the room, only the rustling of the nib against the paper could be heard, intertwined with the occasional soft sound of turning pages, while the air was filled with the faint scent of ink and old books.

Ian gradually became immersed.

Focused.