Perhaps.
In the girl's heart.
An accomplice was a relationship more intimate than friendship.
That was what it meant to come from a family with a long tradition.
"If this person suddenly disappears in town, the Aurors will probably show up soon." Ian still remembered the wizards on the street saying that even a bar fight could bring the Aurors.
To the wizarding world's police, it was as if they had eyes everywhere. They might not know what had happened, but they could always sense when something was going on.
Did the wizarding world have some kind of surveillance network, too?
Something like the Trace?
"Kraft will take care of everything."
Aurora helped Ian fasten the lid of the wooden box. She seemed to have long since grown accustomed to this sort of thing; every step of killing someone and disposing of the body came as naturally to her as breathing.
"Good."
Ian still felt somewhat uneasy, but there was clearly nothing he could do about it. From the moment he stepped into this bookstore, he had been bound to get caught up in this mess.
He should blame the day for being unlucky.
If only he'd spent two more minutes eating at home, or taken two more minutes to drop a deuce... But it was too late to say that now. The already sensitive matter of his status as a Wu orphan had been clouded by another layer of suspicion.
"Was that Fiendfyre you used just now?"
Ian watched as Aurora first cleaned the floor with water, then destroyed the broom and mop along with it. He felt he needed some emotional reassurance.
"Do you want to learn?"
Aurora seemed to see right through Ian's thoughts. It didn't take much insight, after all. His eyes were practically shining with curiosity and longing for Fiendfyre.
"Yes. Is it easy to lose control of?"
Ian remembered that in the original story, one of Malfoy's lackeys had played with fire and gotten burned. This magic was terrifying, probably much more dangerous than the spell he had tried to strengthen last night.
"It's in the book I gave you. My grandfather's explanations are always detailed." Aurora walked back behind the counter and sat down again in the backless chair.
"I think you'll manage it."
She acted as if nothing had happened, picking up her Ancient Runes notes and resuming her reading.
"Thanks. I'll take a look when I get back."
Ian could hardly wait to make his escape.
"Remember to take the trash with you."
Aurora didn't look up, her attention fixed on her notes again. The trash she meant was clearly the box left behind. There were even traces of the body's ashes along its edges.
"You really know how to order people around."
Ian didn't particularly want to walk around with such a dangerous item.
"I haven't been given permission to leave this shop. Could you do me a favor?" Aurora's voice from behind the counter sounded a little helpless.
"All right. Since I'm always happy to help a friend, but you owe me one next time."
Ian looked around for a piece of burlap and wrapped up the wooden box. After checking that no ashes could leak out, he picked up the tightly wrapped box and headed for the door.
"Accomplice."
The girl corrected him again, with earnest precision.
"..."
Ian couldn't shake the feeling that the word brought him dangerously close to Azkaban. He hurried out of the Dark Wizard's lair and breathed in the air beyond the bookstore, free of any smell of burning.
Ian had arrived.
Then he left.
When he came, he had carried a new book box packed with knowledge.
When he left, he was carrying an urn full of a dead man's ashes.
It was the same box.
Only its purpose had changed a little.
On the way back.
Ian felt tense the whole time. Fortunately, no bored wizard stopped him for questioning. The only person who cheerfully greeted him was the street vendor who swindled people with Wizard's Chess.
With the start of term approaching.
Hogsmeade Village had also seen many unfamiliar faces. Perhaps it was nowhere near as prosperous as Diagon Alley, but it was still one of the few places where wizards in England could meet and mingle.
It had a long history.
Its traditions were ancient.
On his way back, Ian even saw several young couples who were already attracted to the same sex. Like the other wizards along the road, he didn't think much of it.
It might have been the wizarding world, but it was still England. As everyone knew, England had long been renowned as a bastion of small towns.
"Professor."
"Good morning, Professor."
Along the way.
Ian also saw several wizards who were clearly adults greeting a woman who was shopping for something in the village. He recognized her as a Hogwarts teacher.
The head of Gryffindor.
Minerva McGonagall.
The Hogwarts professor who taught Transfiguration. Ian didn't know why she had come to Hogsmeade Village to shop. Perhaps the professor had a house in Hogsmeade Village, too?
Like Snape's little house.
"You have children now? The Henry who used to cry at the drop of a hat?"
"Richard, I heard you passed your Auror exam. Congratulations."
"Daisy, the time you turned your wand into a pig's trotter is still my favorite story to tell in class."
Professor McGonagall seemed to remember every student who had ever graduated. No matter whether they had been in Gryffindor, she could call each one by name and recall some embarrassing thing they'd done.
Perhaps.
Only someone who truly loved their profession could remember every little thing from their career.
"She doesn't seem nearly as strict as she was in the movies. Maybe it's because she isn't at school right now." Ian had only seen the scene from a distance.
With an urn that could land him in prison for life in his arms, how could he risk approaching a professor with such sharp instincts? The wisest choice was, of course, to take another route around these Hogwarts alumni.
He couldn't just get rid of the urn. If someone dug it up, that would be a disaster. He could scatter the ashes in a garden, but then Snape might discover them in the future.
Throw them into a river?
If someone saw him, that would be trouble, too.
"Looks like the old ways are still the most reliable!"
Back at the little house.
Ian pried up the floorboards he had just put back, dug into the living-room floor Snape had just refilled, and buried the entire box, ashes and all, in the earth beneath the little house.
"There's really a lot of room down here. I could probably bury another eight or ten people without a problem."
Ian covered the earth again and nailed the living-room floorboards back into place. After comparing the layout with how it had been before and finding no sign of anything amiss, he finally let out a sigh of relief and began filling his stomach with Cauldron Cakes.
Once he was full and satisfied.
Ian retrieved Secrets of the Darkest Art, which he had hidden in the toilet cistern.
"I'm still too weak!"
Before today.
Ian had still been somewhat pleased with himself. After all, he was so young and already had Avada Truth in his hands. It was only natural that he'd felt at least a little self-satisfied.
However.
Seeing someone his own age cast the Fiendfyre Curse nonverbally had reminded him that this world had no shortage of geniuses, nor of people who would resort to violence at the slightest disagreement.
Only the strong survived.
The weak were packed into a box and buried.
Not wanting trouble didn't mean trouble wouldn't 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 find a sense of security.
"The great man was right. A peaceful, stable life exists only within the reach of the Avada Lightning Chain..."
The book opened.
Under the wand's glow.
Forbidden knowledge revealed itself to the first shoots of an ideal.