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  The sun rises in the east.

  As dawn breaks the silence of the early m, the sky gradually takes on a gentle hue, as if painted by the most delicate strokes of nature. The first light of day spreads and everything seems to awaken from its slumber.

  Ian is no exception.

  He has made it a daily ritual to immerse himself in nguages. No matter how busy he gets, Ian almost never fets to expand his linguistic horizons. Oh to "hearing the voices of all things," there are no shortcuts— only the accumution and study of various nguages, including his native tongue.

  "Syrup pie with leftover bck tea— another day on the road to getting diabetes," Ian mused while recalling how he had brewed a whole pot of tea the night before, with Dumbledore only drinking a small cup.

  He ate his breakfast with yesterday's tea while outside the small wooden house, the wizards living nearby had already begun their day.

  "That pumpkin-growing Tom, his house made those noises again st night. What a shameless old man! I don't know why any witch would fall for him!"

  "Maybe he's exceptionally gifted?"

  "Did you hear? Last night, two groups got into a fight at The Hog's Head Inn. One wizard ended up with a pig's tail on his backside! The Aurors couldn't catch the culprit!"

  "I saw it st night— someoole Jenny's underwear that was hanging outside!"

  ...

  The vilgers always have endless gossip to share, and Ian finds their versations full of bewildering tradis. The sdals hidden in the dark never seemed to escape the eyes of these old wizards, yet no oiced the otion he caused when he summohe corpses that night.

  'Hmm. Perhaps no one cared?'

  After his usual stroll around the vilge, Ian didn't hear any rumors about his fire i. He breathed a slight sigh of relief auro the small wooden house to gather the potion books.

  "It's time to return them."

  Keeping one's word is one of the few virtues Ian possesses. He used the remaining wooden pnks to cobble together a box aly arranged all the potion books inside.

  "Let's go."

  Using the same head that had just hosted a Phoenix the night before, Ian imitated the way Indian porters carry goods, bang the wooden box on his head and holding it with both hands as he walked toward the bookstore. He had no choice; his body hadn't fully developed yet, and the box was a bit too cumbersome to carry in his arms.

  Following the winding cobblestoreets and passing the quill shop that lost a sale due to his overzealousness, Ian finally saw the quiet facade of the sedhand bookstore. He dider immediately but instead waited at the er for half an hour. As he had observed in previous days, the bookstore owner, Mr. Kraft, left on time.

  Dressed in a trench coat and wearing a hat, Mr. Kraft hurried off, as he did every day at the same time. After seeing him 'Apparate' away, Ian bahe box of books on his head and walked into the bookstore.

  The air was filled with the faint st of ink, the unique smell of paper, and dust.

  The German girl still sat quietly behind the ter, pletely absorbed in the book in her hands. She didn't seem to notice Ian's arrival.

  "Miss Grindelwald, as promised, I've e to return the books." As Ian walked, the wooden floor creaked beh him. His voice pulled the girl back from her sea of knowledge.

  "This is a bit ued," She replied, looking up.

  Aurrindelwald's delicate face resembled a fine doll, but it was her heteroatic eyes that truly captivated, shimmering with a light all their own.

  "We're friends. Did you really think I'd run off with the books?" Ian said, putting on an expression of disbelief. "These sedhand books are no match for our brief but solid friendship."

  He had always been good at saying the right things— a skill honed from his time as an orphan.

  Aurora fell silent for a moment. "I just didn't expect you to finish copying these books before the term started." She offered an expnation but didn't deny the friendship Ian had mentiohis was a young woman yearning for e, and Ian had sehis from their first meeting.

  "See this hand?" Iahe wooden box on the ter and raised his hand.

  The German girl nodded, leaning in to exami carefully.

  "Aside from the long fingers and promi knuckles, there's nothing special about it." After a moment, Aurave her assessment.

  "But it's a hand of efficy. A mere seven years' worth of potiobooks is nothing pared to the miracles it has created." Ian's thoughts drifted back to his summer vacations in his past life as he spoke. "Resurre is the true miracle."

  Aurora shook her head, a hint of sadness fshing in her heteroatic eyes.

  Ian didn't know how to respond.

  "How's that book ing along?" Aurora suddenly ged the subject, clearly referring to the copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art she had gifted him.

  "It's amazing. I really like yift," Ian replied, giving a thumbs-up.

  "Then, where's my return gift?" Aurora's expression remained cool, but a glimmer of anticipation appeared in her eyes.

  Ian had genuinely fotten about this. "ime, for sure!" he said, awkwardly grinning.

  "Mm." The girl wasn't disappointed; she simply nodded quietly.

  "I'll quickly scatter these books bato the piles before your elder returns." Ian grabbed the wooden box and started stuffing the books into the chaotic piles that hadn't ged at all. It wasn't a difficult task.

  Soon, when Iauro the ter with the y wooden box, ready to say goodbye and promise Aurora a heartfelt return gift by the start of term, he heard a sound.

  "Tap tap~"

  The wooden floor creaked.

  Standing by the left bookshelf, Ian looked up.

  There, a man in bck robes, his face scarred and hooded, walked in holding a wand. His sharp, menag gaze swept across the bookstore, first gng at Ian with disdain before settling on Aurora.

  "The intel was right. You're here after all," The man said while pointing his wand at Aurora. "Little Grindelwald, e out now. Yrandfather owes me something, and I need you to help me collect it."

  This man clearly meant no good. Ian, hiding behind the bookshelf, felt his heart race. A debt collector? Of all the clichéd things to stumble upon!

  "My grandfather owes many people, but those who dare to collect... are hardly the respectable sort," Aurora replied, showing no fear. She even dared to mock the man who had barged in, remainied with her usual calm demeanor.

  "You brat. Do you really think I won't act here? Remember, you're not in Hogwarts Castle now!" The wand-wielding man was clearly annoyed, and the tip of his wand glowed faintly.

  Ian, still hiding behind the bookshelf, felt an inexplicable excitement and an urge to act. But his rational mi it in chebsp;

  'Should he help with a sneak attack? One Avada Kedavra, even at level one, should do the trick. But this whole hero-saves-the-damsel trope felt so cliché!'

  "I'm a witness. He might not let me go. The man saw me." Ian weighed his options, his left hand instinctively reag for his wand. If he had a choice, he wouldn't want to get involved in someone else's flicts.

  But if he missed this ce, with the man uimating him due to his age and fog on Aurora, he might not get another opportunity. Rely on a wizard's mercy? He better trust his own wand!

  Just as Ian made up his mind to act, without warning, blue fmes erupted from the man's body.

  This adult wizard had no time to react. In an instant, he was engulfed in blue fmes, along with his wand, which could have fetched a good price. In the blink of an eye, all that remained ile of gray ash.

  "Fiendfyre!" Ian excimed in shock, looking incredulously toward the ter, where Aurora had already set down a wand that had appeared out of nowhere, calmly watg the fmes fade.

  "Could you pass me the broom? It's behind the bookshelf o you." Despite having just killed someoh such terrifying magic, Aurora's emotions remained perfectly stable. It was hard to imagihat a child just old enough to start school could silently cast such advanced magic!

  "Isn't Scify easier?" Ian asked, still stunned.

  "Haven't lear yet," Aurora replied suctly.

  'Alright. Another child with a narrow focus.' Ian could rete to that.

  "Uh, let me find the broom." The death of a living persht before his eyes didn't leave Ian ued, but he wasn't the type to question why someone would kill in self-defehe male wizard clearly meant harm. Mercy wouldn't solve anything.

  'Besides, questioning the attacker? Did he want to live?'

  "I didn't see anything. Don't think about sileng me!" Ian picked up the broom and walked over to the soiled floor, worried about his current predit. So much for the hero-saves-the-damsel trope. Now it was the hero fearing the damsel!

  "I won't harm a friend. Besides..." Aurora walked over to where Ian had been, picked up the wooden box he had dropped, and crouched beside him, gesturing for him to sweep the ashes into the box. "We're apliow."

  Just like their first meeting, the German girl seemed unusually fixated on this kind of retionship.

  (End of chapter)