The Visitor Is Not Friendly! Slaughter!

The rising sun ascended.

As the morning light broke the silence of dawn.

The horizon was gradually painted with a gentle hue, as if by nature's most delicate brushstrokes. As the first rays of dawn bloomed, all things seemed to begin their recovery from slumber.

Ian was no exception.

[Latin successful, language proficiency +1]

[Indian successful, language proficiency +1]

[Chinese successful, language proficiency +2]

Daily morning study was an essential task; no matter how busy other matters might be, Ian almost never forgot to improve the proficiency of his [Language Mastery].

On the path toward the "Voice of All Things," there were no shortcuts, only the accumulation and study of various different languages; even his former mother tongue could provide Ian with gains.

"Treacle tart and overnight black tea—another day heading toward diabetes." Ian had brewed an entire pot of tea last night, yet Dumbledore had only drunk a small cup.

He ate his breakfast accompanied by yesterday's tea. Outside the small wooden cabin, the wizards living on the street had already begun their day.

"That Tom who grows pumpkins—that sound came from his house again last night. What a shameless old man; I truly don't know why any witch would fall for his tricks!"

"Perhaps he's gifted?"

"Have you heard? Two groups of people fought at the Hog's Head Inn last night, and one of the wizards had a pig's tail attached to his backside! The Aurors didn't catch the culprit at all!"

"I saw it last night—someone stole the underwear Jenny had hung out to dry!"

The people in the village had an endless supply of gossip every day.

Ian only felt they were filled with baffling contradictions.

Those romantic affairs hidden in the darkness seemed to never escape the eyes of these old wizards, yet the commotion he had caused by summoning a horde of corpses that night had gone completely unnoticed.

Hmm.

Perhaps no one cared?

Following his routine, he took a stroll through the village. Ian didn't hear any rumors about his arson, so he breathed a slight sigh of relief and returned to the cabin to rummage for those potion books.

"It is time to return them."

Keeping one's word was one of the few virtues Ian possessed. He pieced together a box using the remaining wooden planks and placed all the potion books neatly inside.

"Setting off."

Using the head he had just used to balance a phoenix the night before, Ian mimicked the way the locals transported goods, balancing the wooden box on his head while steadying it with both hands as he walked toward the bookstore.

There was no help for it.

His body hadn't fully grown yet, and the box was truly difficult to carry in his arms.

Winding along the cobblestone street and bypassing the quill shop that had lost the business of a single pen because Ian was too diligent, he saw the desolate storefront of the second-hand bookstore.

He didn't enter immediately; instead, he ran to the street corner and waited for over half an hour. Kraft, the bookstore owner, left as punctually as Ian had observed over the past few days.

Wearing a trench coat.

Wearing a hat.

In a hurried manner.

He didn't know where the man went so regularly every day. After watching Kraft depart via Apparition, Ian finally balanced the wooden box of books on his head again and walked into the shop.

The air was filled with the faint scent of ink and the unique aroma of paper.

And the smell of dust.

The Germanic girl was still sitting quietly behind the counter, fully immersed in the book in her hands; she didn't seem to notice Ian's arrival.

"Miss Grindelwald, keeping to our agreement, I have come to return the books."

As Ian walked.

The wooden floorboards creaked.

His voice pulled the girl back from the ocean of knowledge.

"I am somewhat surprised."

Aurora Grindelwald's exquisite face was like fine porcelain, yet it could not compete with the allure of her heterochromatic eyes, which seemed to shimmer with a soul-captivating luster.

"We are friends, yet you actually thought I would run off with the books!"

Ian wore an expression of utter disbelief.

"These second-hand books are no match for our brief but firm friendship."

He had always liked to tell people what they wanted to hear; it was the thick skin he had honed as an orphan.

"..."

Aurora fell silent for a moment.

"I just didn't expect you to finish transcribing these books before the start of the term," she explained, though she did not deny the friendship Ian had mentioned.

This was a young person yearning for friendship.

Ian had sensed this the very first time they met. Although Thought Perception was restrained under his control, that did not mean it had lost all its utility.

"See this hand?"

Ian placed the wooden box on the counter.

He raised his hand.

The Germanic girl nodded, leaning in earnestly to examine it closely.

"Aside from long fingers and prominent knuckles, there is nothing special about it."

A moment later.

Aurora delivered her assessment.

"But it is indeed a hand of maximum efficiency; a mere seven years' worth of Potions textbooks are completely unworthy of mention compared to the miracles it once created."

Ian's thoughts seemed to drift back to the summer vacation of his past life.

"Resurrection from the dead—that is a miracle."

Aurora shook her head, a trace of sorrow flashing through her heterochromatic eyes.

"..."

Ian did not know how to respond.

"How are you getting on with that book?" Aurora suddenly changed the subject.

Clearly.

She was referring to Secrets of the Darkest Art that she had given to Ian.

"It's amazing, I really like your gift."

Ian gave a thumbs-up.

"Then, what about my return gift?"

Aurora's expression remained as cold and aloof as ever, yet a hint of anticipation flickered in her eyes.

"..."

Ian had truly forgotten about that.

"Next time, for sure!"

He grinned, feeling somewhat awkward.

"Mm."

The girl was not disappointed; she simply nodded quietly.

"I'll hurry and disperse these books into those piles so your elders don't return suddenly." Ian picked up the wooden box and began stuffing the books into the messy, unchanging stacks.

This was not a difficult task.

Soon.

Just as Ian was holding the empty wooden box, preparing to return to the counter to say goodbye and incidentally tell Aurora that he would definitely prepare a heartfelt return gift for her when school started.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of floorboards echoed.

Ian, standing by the bookshelf on the left, looked up.

He saw.

A man wearing black robes and a hood, his face covered in scars, walked in holding a wand, his sharp and vicious gaze sweeping across the entire bookstore.

He glanced at Ian first, a look of disdain appearing in his eyes.

Finally.

His gaze locked onto Aurora.

"The intelligence was correct; you really are here."

The man raised his wand and pointed it at Aurora.

"Little brat of the Grindelwald family, come out now and come with me. Your grandfather owes me some things, and I need to use you to collect them from him."

This person was clearly here with ill intent.

Hiding behind the bookshelf, Ian's heart hammered in his chest.

Enemies showing up at the door?

Could he really have run into such a cliché situation?

"My grandfather owes many people things, but those who dare to collect debts from him... are clearly not characters of any standing." Aurora did not seem afraid in the slightest.

She even dared to mock the man who had intruded into the bookstore.

She did not move, remaining seated with a cold and detached expression.

"Sharp-tongued brat, do you really think I wouldn't dare to strike here? You should know, you aren't inside the castle of Hogwarts right now!"

The man holding the wand looked annoyed.

The tip of his wand glowed faintly.

"Hiss~"

Ian hid behind a bookshelf. For some reason, he felt a sense of excitement, and... an urge to test his mettle. It was just that this impulse was well-suppressed by his reason.

Should he help with a sneak attack?

A single Avada, even if it were only a level-one skill, should be able to produce the intended effect. But this trope of a hero saving a damsel in distress seemed so cliché no matter how he looked at it!

I'm a witness. He won't necessarily let me go; that man saw me. Ian weighed his options in his heart, his left hand already subconsciously reaching for his own wand.

If he had a choice.

He certainly wouldn't want to get involved in other people's grudges and entanglements.

But.

If he missed this chance—where the man was ignoring him due to his age and focusing entirely on Aurora—it was unlikely he would ever have another opportunity for a sneak attack.

Relying on a wizard's mercy?

He might as well trust the wand in his own hand!

Just as Ian made his decision and prepared to act.

"Ah!!!!"

Without any warning.

A burst of blue flames suddenly erupted from the man's body.

This adult wizard.

Didn't even have a moment to react.

His entire person was swallowed by the blue flames, and in the blink of an eye, even his wand—which should have fetched a decent price—was reduced to gray dust scattered across the floor.

"Fiendfyre!"

Ian let out an exclamation.

He looked toward the counter in disbelief. The girl had already put down a wand that had appeared from nowhere, watching the fading flames with a calm gaze.

"Could you help me get the broom? It's right behind the bookshelf next to you." Even though she had just killed a man with a terrifying spell, Aurora's emotions remained incredibly stable.

It was hard to imagine.

A child who had just reached the age of enrollment was actually capable of casting such advanced magic silently!

"Isn't Scourgify useful enough?"

Ian was stunned for a moment.

"Haven't learned it yet."

Aurora's answer was concise and clear.

Fine.

Another child with lopsided academic strengths.

Ian could understand that well.

"Uh, let me find where the broom is."

Ian wasn't actually calm about a living person dying right in front of him, but he clearly didn't belong to the type of righteous person who would question why someone had killed another.

The male wizard had clearly come with ill intent.

Soft-heartedness wouldn't solve any problems.

Besides.

Questioning the perpetrator.

Did he not want to live anymore?

"I didn't see anything, don't you go thinking about killing me to silence me!" Ian walked to the soiled floor with the broom, somewhat worried about his current predicament.

So much for the hero saving the damsel.

How did it turn into the hero being afraid of the damsel now!

"I won't strike at a friend, and besides..."

Aurora walked over to where Ian had been, picked up the wooden box Ian had dropped on the floor, and crouched down beside him, signaling with her eyes for Ian to sweep the ashes into the box.

"We are accomplices now."

Just like their first meeting.

The Germanic girl seemed unusually fixated on this kind of relationship.

Three thousand words!

(End of chapter)