Perhaps, in the girl's heart, being aplices felt like a closer retionship than mere friendship. Such is the depth of her family's influence.

  "If this person suddenly disappears from the town, the Aurors will likely be alerted soon," Ian recalled the wizards oreet discussing how a bar fight could attract the attention of the Aurors.

  It seemed like the police of the wizarding world had eyes everywhere. They might not kly what happened, but they could always sense when something was amiss. Did the wizarding world have something akin to a surveilnce system? Perhaps something like the Trace?

  "Mr. Kraft will handle everything," Aurora said, helping Ian secure the lid of the wooden box. She seemed aced to such situations as if the entire process of killing and disposing of the body was sed nature to her.

  "That's good," Ian replied, still feeling somewhat uneasy. But there was clearly nothing he could do. From the momeepped into the bookstore, he had been drawn into this situation.

  He cursed his bad luck. If only he had stayed home a few more mio eat or spent a little longer ihroom... but now it was too te. The shadow of his identity as an orphan from Wool's had grown darker.

  "Was that Fiendfyre you used earlier?" Ian asked, watg as Aurora first ed the floor with water, theroyed the broom and mop along with it. He felt he needed some fort for his soul.

  "Do you want to learn it?" Aurora seemed to see through Ian's thoughts. It didn't take musight; his bright eyes were filled with curiosity and a desire for Fiendfyre.

  "Yes, but is it easy to lose trol?" Ian remembered from the inal story that one of Malfoy's ckeys had burned himself to death with it. This magic was terrifying, likely far more dangerous than the magic he had tried to enhahe night before.

  "It's in the book I gave you. My grandfather's expnations are always detailed." Aurora walked back behind the ter and sat down on a backless chair. "I think it shouldn't be too difficult for you."

  She acted as if nothing had happened, pig up the magical book again and flipping through it.

  "Thanks, I'll check it out when I get back," Ian said, already eager to leave.

  "Remember to take out the trash for me." Aurora didn't look up, her attention already ba her he "trash" she referred to was clearly the box left on the floor, with traces of ashes still ging to its edges.

  "You really know how to boss people around," Ian replied, not keen on carrying such a dangerous item around in public.

  "I haven't been given permission to leave the shop yet. sider this a request, okay?" Aurora's tone from behind the ter was somewhat helpless.

  "Alright, since I'm always happy to help a friend. But ime, you owe me something." Ian looked around, found a piece of burp, and ed the wooden box in it. After making sure no ashes would leak out, he picked up the tightly ed box and headed for the door.

  "We're aplices," The girl reminded him agaione serious.

  Ia like this title was oep away from Azkaban. He quickly sped up and stepped out of the dark wizard's den, breathing in the fresh air outside the bookstore, free of the stench of burning.

  Ian came, and then he left. He arrived carrying a box full of fresh knowledge a with a box full of a dead man's ashes. The box was still the same, but its purpose had ged slightly.

  On the way back, Ia a bit nervous. Fortunately, no nosy wizards stopped him for questioning. Only a street hustler wizard chess pyer greeted him warmly.

  As the start of term approached, Hogsmeade Vilge was filled with many unfamiliar faces. While this pce might not be as bustling as Diagon Alley, it was still one of the few gathering spots flish wizards—ri history and steeped in tradition.

  On his way back, Ian even saw a few same-gender couples, clearly attracted to each other. Like the other wizards oreet, he wasn't fazed by it. Though it's the wizarding world, it's still Engnd. As everyone knows, Engnd has a reputation akin to a smaller city.

  "Professor."

  "Good m, Professor."

  ...

  Along the way, Ian spotted a few clearly adult wizards greeting a woman shopping in the vilge. He reized her as a teacher from Hogwarts— the Head of Gryffindor House, Minerva Magall.

  She was the Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts. Ian wasn't sure why she was shopping in Hogsmeade. Maybe she had a residence here, like Snape's ?

  "Do you already have children, Henry the crybaby?"

  "Richard, I heard you passed your Auror exams. gratutions."

  "Daisy, the story of you turning your wand into a pig's trotter is still my favorite to tell in css."

  ...

  Professonagall seemed to remember every former student, whether they were from Gryffindor or not. She could accurately name eae and recall their embarrassing moments.

  Perhaps only someone who truly loves their profession could remember every detail of their career.

  "She doesn't seem as strict as in the movies. Maybe it's because we're not at school," Ian observed from a distance. Carrying a box that could nd him in Azkaban, he dared not approach a sharp-eyed professor. The wisest choice was to take another route and avoid the Hogwarts alumni.

  Simply disposing of the ashes wouldn't do. If someone dug them up, it would be a disaster. Maybe he could scatter them in the garden, but there was no guarantee Snape wouldn't find out ter. Dump them in the river? If someone saw, that would also be trouble.

  "Looks like the old-fashioned way is still the most reliable!"

  Back at the , Ian pried open the newly id floorboards, dug up the soil Snape had filled in, and buried the entire box along with the ashes beh the . "There's plenty of space here. I could probably bury ten more people without a problem."

  Ian covered the soil again, he floorboards ba pce, and pared the yout to before. Seeing no abnormalities, he finally rexed and started filling his stomach with cauldron cakes.

  After eating his fill, Iarieved 'Secrets of the Darkest Art' from the toilet tank. "I'm still too weak!"

  Before today, Ian had been somewhat self-satisfied. After all, at such a young age, he already wielded the Killing Curse. It was impossible not to feel a little infted. However, witnessing the silent casting of Fiendfyre by his peer made him realize that this world was not g in geniuses, nor in flicts that could escate at a moment's notice.

  Only the strong survive. The weak end up buried in boxes. Not wanting trouble doesn't mean trouble won't find you.

  "In this cruel wizarding world, I'm walking on thin ice!"

  Recalling the adult wizard who had been burned alive, Ian uood that only by striving harder to improve himself could he gain a sense of security.

  "As the great man said, pead stability o within the ce of Killing Curse..."

  The book opened uhe glow of his wand, and forbidden knowledge unfolded for the budding idealist.

  (End of chapter)

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