The Eternal Bet

Refusal, of course, could not stop Ian.

After all.

Compared with the elderly version of Dumbledore, the current Ian was the strongest practitioner of Legilimency. He was the one who truly fit the title of White Dark Lord from all those conspiracy theories.

Under such circumstances.

How could the refusal of an ordinary Ravenclaw graduate possibly stop Ian from casting his spell?

It was no exaggeration to say.

Even Grindelwald probably would not be able to detect Ian's Legilimency now.

He was simply that powerful.

Thus, whether Jorkins refused or not was utterly meaningless. Still, if the man knew what was good for him, that was quite nice as far as Ian was concerned. Ian was also willing to grant him a measure of dignity.

"Very good, Mr. Jorkins."

Ian nodded, and the detachment in his tone seemed to lessen slightly. "However, we needn't do this here. Standing in the middle of the street is hardly elegant."

He glanced around—although the Muggles had already "forgotten" everything and resumed their normal activities, two men standing in the middle of the road would eventually draw attention.

After all.

This was Britain.

Ian did not want some rumors slipping into his ears, making him snap and seamlessly shift from White Dark Lord to Dark Magic as he began dispensing punishment on the spot.

"Come on, let's find somewhere more comfortable." Ian's tone became slightly... more casual, even carrying a hint of the complaining tone typical of a "young person."

"I dealt with a little trouble just now, and I'm a bit hungry. Let's find somewhere to eat and talk while we do." He was indeed at an age when he was still growing and often felt hungry.

"Huh? Oh! Y-yes! Of course! Where would you like to go, sir?" Jorkins hurriedly replied, though