Shopping Turmoil

Somewhere in Central Europe, a luxurious white manor stood hidden in a forest. A lavish carriage pulled by nine winged horses descended from the sky and stopped on the gray-white stone road before the manor gates.

The carriage door slowly opened. Several elderly wizards in splendid robes stepped out and stood to either side, bowing respectfully to the young girl who emerged last.

After stepping down from the carriage, Aisling glanced at Wolf, who stood at the head of the group, and tossed out an order.

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

Then, ignoring everyone present, she strode into 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 look into that new student. For Dumbledore to personally take him shopping in Diagon Alley, his background must be extraordinary. Do not alert Dumbledore."

The witch nodded, accepted the task, and walked out through the manor gates. With a wave of her wand, she vanished into thin air.

Wolf turned to the others and gave them further instructions.

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

Upon hearing Wolf's orders, the others vanished one after another and began patrolling the forest around 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 within him.

After Lord Grindelwald fell, the Wizard Purist Party lost his protection. All that remained for them were countless enemies across the world, the worst of them being Lord Grindelwald's own family. Now, the Grindelwald family had been almost completely slaughtered, leaving only Miss Aisling as its sole surviving branch. Yet even after giving up the Grindelwald name, those mad Americans still clung relentlessly to Miss Aisling.

Thinking of this made Wolf even sadder. He was no longer young, and memories of the passionate days of his youth, when he had followed Lord Grindelwald in an attempt to change the wizarding world, surfaced before his eyes. The factions that had once fled into the deep mountains to avoid them were now hunting them down until they could barely see daylight.

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

Miss Aisling was Lord Grindelwald's sister's granddaughter. Though she did not bear the Grindelwald surname, she had perfectly inherited the Grindelwald Family's talents. Whether it was Lord Grindelwald's 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 attend Hogwarts." Wolf viciously cursed Dumbledore.

But he had to admit that when his group had been at their most miserable while being hunted, it was Dumbledore who had stepped forward to offer them protection. The condition—or rather, part of that protection itself—was that Aisling 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 reluctantly accepted in the end.

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

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

"Sigh... perhaps following Dumbledore and clearing our name is the best way forward."

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

Roy felt the magic churning inside him and gripped his wand tightly. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and gave the air a careless wave.

"Smoke Screen."

A great volume of smoke burst from the tip of his wand, filling the entire room. Standing amid the thick smoke, Roy silently felt the sensation of casting the spell.

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

"Pretty easy. Next one. Wingardium Leviosa!"

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

"Next. 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 many spells in one go or learning so many spells so quickly, it would have been enough to leave anyone stunned. But Roy had no idea how shocking any of it was. At that moment, he lay bored on the bed, flipping through a worn Potions textbook.

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

He considered going outside to scavenge for things, but after checking the time, he saw that it was already getting late.

"Forget it. Tomorrow, I'll go wander around Diagon Alley myself and see whether I can pick up anything useful."

Roy lay on the bed with his wand in hand and pointed it at the Potions textbook in front of 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 him seemed far more obstructed.

"As expected, casting without saying the incantation is a little difficult. What if I don't use a wand?"

He did not need a wand to create 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 rose a tiny distance before he lost control of it.

Since he had nothing better to do, Roy began practicing silent, wandless casting around the room. This practice finally gave him some difficulty. Roy, who had always found everything effortless, had his competitive spirit stirred. He even skipped dinner and kept practicing until late into the 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, satisfied.

At Hogwarts that night, Dumbledore sat behind his desk in the headmaster's office, his quill rapidly processing all kinds of documents across the parchment.

There was a knock at the office door. After Dumbledore said, "Come in," Hogwarts's deputy headmistress, Professor McGonagall, entered the office.

Dumbledore set down his quill and asked Professor McGonagall, "It's quite late, Minerva. What is it?"

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

"A letter from the Ministry. Kingsley said that Miss Greenhild's family has been asking about a new student."

"Roy?"

Dumbledore took 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 what grudge the Greenhild family has against Mr. Smee?"

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

"As far as I know, Roy had never known Miss Greenhild before. This is nothing to worry about. Roy is a very talented child, perhaps even more talented than I was, and Miss Greenhild is likewise gifted and demanding of herself. In my view, Miss Greenhild simply sees Roy as a rival. We should encourage healthy competition among young people, shouldn't we, Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I hope so. After all, she belongs to the Grindelwald Family. If Mr. Smee's talent is as great as you say, then you know what that means: another young Grindelwald finding an exceptionally gifted young wizard. Back then, you..."

Dumbledore's gaze hardened as he refuted her in a grave voice.

"No. Both Roy and Miss Greenhild are far more mature than Grindelwald and I were back then. In the future, they will certainly surpass us."

Dumbledore rarely spoke so decisively. Professor McGonagall said nothing more, merely gave Dumbledore several meaningful looks before quietly leaving.

After Professor McGonagall left, Dumbledore took a shattered silver locket from a drawer. With his aged, slender hand, he traced the patterns on its surface, his thoughts returning to that turbulent era. He had once crafted it with his own hands, only to later destroy 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, sounding both like a warning and a sigh.