Shopping Turmoil

Somewhere in Central Europe, within a forest, stood a luxurious white manor. A lavish carriage drawn by nine winged horses descended from the sky and came to a stop on the grayish-white stone road before the manor gates.

The carriage door slowly opened. Several elderly wizards in splendid attire stepped out and stood on either side, adopting respectful postures toward the young girl who emerged last.

Aisling stepped down from the carriage, glanced at Wolf, who stood at the front, and left him with a single instruction.

"Find out about the boy who was with Dumbledore today. I saw him once in a fragment of a prophecy."

Then, ignoring everyone present, she strode toward the interior of the manor.

Several servants bowed and watched Aisling enter the manor. Then Wolf assigned a task to one of the older witches.

"Have our people still planted in the British Ministry of Magic investigate that new student. For Dumbledore to personally take him to Diagon Alley to shop, his background must be anything but ordinary. Dumbledore must not be alerted."

The witch nodded in acceptance, turned and left through the manor gates. With a wave of her wand, she vanished into thin air.

Wolf turned back and gave instructions to the remaining people.

"The young lady showed herself in Diagon Alley today. Those Americans have definitely caught the scent. We've already changed residences three times recently. At the very least, until the young lady enters Hogwarts, we cannot let the enemy get in again!"

Upon hearing Wolf's order, the others responded and disappeared, beginning patrols through the forest surrounding the manor.

Wolf alone remained standing in the open space before the manor gates. Looking at this, the third place they had been forced to relocate to this month, a wave of sorrow rose in his heart.

After Lord Grindelwald fell, the Wizard Purist Party lost his protection. All that remained for them were countless enemies across the world, the most dangerous of whom were the Grindelwald Family themselves. Now, the Grindelwald Family had been nearly wiped out, leaving only Miss Aisling as their sole surviving descendant. Yet even after abandoning the Grindelwald name, those mad Americans still clung relentlessly to Miss Aisling.

Thinking of this, Wolf grew even sadder. He was no longer young, and memories of his passionate youth, when he had followed Lord Grindelwald in trying to change the wizarding world, rose before his eyes. The forces that had once fled deep into the mountains to avoid them were now driving them into hiding.

These matters had once driven Wolf to despair, whether it was the divisions within the Wizard Purist Party or the persecution from outside. But when he thought of Aisling, hope finally reignited in his heart.

Miss Aisling was Lord Grindelwald's sister's granddaughter. Though she did not bear the Grindelwald name, she had perfectly inherited the talents of the Grindelwald Family. Whether it was Lord Grindelwald's own gift for prophecy or her mastery of all kinds of magic at such a young age, Wolf saw the shadow of the next Lord Grindelwald in Aisling.

"Damn Dumbledore. If it weren't for the young lady's safety, I would never have let her go to Hogwarts." Wolf cursed Dumbledore viciously.

Yet he had to admit that when their group had been at their most miserable, hunted down on all sides, it had been Dumbledore who stepped forward to provide shelter. One of his conditions—or rather, part of that protection itself—was for Aisling to attend Hogwarts.

That bastard had imprisoned Lord Grindelwald back then, and now it was his turn to play the good man. Still, since Miss Aisling herself had agreed, Wolf had ultimately accepted it despite his resentment.

"Damn Americans, and Dumbledore too. Once the young lady grows up, she won't let a single one of you off."

With no one around, Wolf venomously cursed every one of his enemies. Yet deep down, he understood that Lord Grindelwald's dream was destined to be difficult to achieve. As long as Miss Aisling could grow up healthy and safely, he would be able to die content.

"Ah, perhaps following Dumbledore and clearing our name is the best way out."

That afternoon, at Wool's Orphanage, Roy was alone in his room. All the other children had gone out to play, so he took the opportunity to practice magic by himself.

Roy felt the magic churning within him and gripped his wand tightly. Then he suddenly opened his eyes and waved it through the air.

"Smoke Screen."

A large amount of smoke burst from the tip of his wand, filling the entire room. Standing amid the thick smoke, Roy silently sensed the feeling of casting the spell.

Once the smoke dispersed, Roy opened the textbook an owl had just delivered. Dumbledore had originally said it would not arrive until tomorrow, but it had unexpectedly come that afternoon.

"Seems easy enough. Next one. Wingardium Leviosa!"

Roy casually waved his wand, and the single bed before him floated straight up to the ceiling. With another wave, the bed slowly descended again.

"Next one, Reparo!"

In less than an hour, Roy had practiced every spell in the first-year textbooks once.

Ordinarily, whether it was a young wizard his age casting so much magic at once or learning so many spells so quickly, it would have been enough to leave anyone stunned. But Roy had no idea how shocking it all was. At that moment, he lay idly on his bed, flipping through a worn Potions textbook.

"Ah, what a shame. Without ingredients or a cauldron, I can't practice brewing potions."

He considered going outside to pick up a few things, then glanced at the clock and saw that it was getting late.

"Forget it. Tomorrow, I'll take a look around Diagon Alley myself and see whether I can pick up anything."

Roy lay on the bed with his wand in hand and pointed it at the Potions textbook before him. This time, he did not speak the incantation aloud.

The Potions textbook slowly rose into the air, but Roy could feel that the flow of magic within his body seemed much more obstructed.

"Sure enough, casting without an incantation is still rather difficult. What if I don't use a wand?"

He did not need a wand to produce smoke. He wondered whether he could cast other spells without one as well.

Putting away his wand, Roy pointed at the textbook with a finger and silently recited the spell in his mind. This time, the textbook only floated up a tiny distance before he lost control of it.

With nothing else to do, Roy began practicing silent, wandless casting in his room. This practice finally presented him with some difficulty. Roy, who had always found everything easy, had his competitive spirit stirred. He did not even eat dinner and kept practicing until late at night.

It was not until one in the morning that Roy, after constant practice, finally managed to cast most first-year spells silently and without a wand. Only then did he go to sleep in satisfaction.

At night, in the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts, Dumbledore sat behind his desk, the quill in his hand rapidly handling all kinds of documents.

There was a knock on the office door. After he called for them to enter, Hogwarts's deputy headmistress, Professor McGonagall, walked into the Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore paused his writing and asked Professor McGonagall, "It's so late, Minerva. What is it?"

Professor McGonagall sat opposite Dumbledore, took out a letter, and handed it to him.

"A letter from the Ministry of Magic. Kingsley says people from Miss Grindelhill's family are asking about a new student."

"Roy?"

Dumbledore accepted the letter and carefully read Kingsley's message.

"That's right, the new student you personally took to Diagon Alley today. Albus, do you know of any conflict between the Grindelhill family and Mr. Smee?"

Dumbledore set down the letter, shook his head, and answered calmly.

"As far as I know, Roy had never known Miss Grindelhill before. This is nothing to worry about. Roy is a very talented child, his talent perhaps even surpassing my own. Miss Grindelhill is likewise exceptionally gifted and highly demanding of herself. In my view, Miss Grindelhill merely sees Roy as a rival. We should encourage healthy competition between young people, shouldn't we, Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I hope so. After all, she is from the Grindelwald Family. If Mr. Smee's talent is truly as great as you say, then you know what that means: another young Grindelwald seeking out an extraordinarily talented young wizard. Back then, you..."

Dumbledore's gaze hardened, and he denied it in a grave tone.

"No. Both Roy and Miss Grindelhill are far more mature than Grindelwald and I were in those days. In the future, they will certainly surpass us."

Dumbledore rarely spoke so resolutely. Professor McGonagall said nothing further, gave him several meaningful looks, and quietly departed.

After Professor McGonagall left, Dumbledore took a broken silver pendant from a drawer. His aged, slender hand stroked its patterns, and his thoughts returned to that turbulent era. He had once made it with his own hands, and later destroyed it with those same hands.

The lingering magic within the object reminded Dumbledore of the mistakes he had made and the consequences he had borne. On that day, he had completely lost the family that had already been broken.

"I hope you do not repeat my mistakes, Roy."

The aged voice echoed through the empty office, seeming both a warning and a sigh.