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Hermione, one of the Golden Trio’s combatants, followed Mr. Granger out. For the upcoming holiday, it seemed unlikely that she would intersect with Ian again. Everything appeared unchanged on the surface, but Ian knew that much had changed dramatically.
Of course.
The Orphanage had resumed its normal life, not much different from Ian’s memories, thanks to Mr. Granger’s donation. The orphanage received a substantial amount of funding. Delighted, Ms. Helena arranged an extra meal for everyone at dinner, allowing Ian to enjoy a long-lost pleasure.
Successfully slaughtering a duck, Dissection Proficiency+1 Successfully slaughtering a duck, Dissection Proficiency+1
Successfully slaughtering a duck, Dissection Proficiency+1 Successfully slaughtering a duck, Dissection Proficiency+1
Successfully slaughtering a duck, Dissection Proficiency+1 Successfully slaughtering a duck, Dissection Proficiency+1
…
Dissection.
This was a skill Ian found difficult to gain proficiency in at school. Even though Ian had defeated some enemies, he couldn’t dissect enemies like he could slaughter chickens and ducks.
Only by completely breaking down creatures like a butcher could Ian gain Proficiency through dissection, and creatures like chickens and ducks would only ever yield a small amount of Proficiency.
It was definitely one of the most challenging skills to improve. Otherwise, Ian wouldn’t have taken so many years to raise it to level 5. Although Ian had gained the Extraordinary traits of the “Butcher Instinct” for the Dissection skill, its usefulness for wizards like Ian was quite limited.
After all, wizards rarely engaged in close combat with enemies, and the “Butcher Instinct” was only useful for Grindelwald’s living limb Finite Incantatem, allowing Ian to dissect enemies in great detail without killing them.
Without torturing others, most people wouldn’t need to use living limb Finite Incantatem. During his time at Hogwarts, Ian certainly wouldn’t have needed to torture anyone.
Most young wizards, faced with Ian, would back down with just a glare. It was even less likely that Ian would need to use living limb Finite Incantatem. Therefore, the Dissection skill, which had stagnated for nearly a year, could only be resumed once Ian returned to Orphanage.
Of course.
Although he didn’t eat people and is never planning on doing so, Ian was still tirelessly dedicated to training this skill, not only for the familiar feeling but also because of his intuition.
“My sixth sense has always been strong. The legendary traits that have not yet awakened in this skill will definitely be of great help to me in the field of biological alchemy.”
Yes, that was Ian’s sixth sense. If there had to be a field related to dissection in the realm of magic, it would undoubtedly be the all-encompassing field of alchemy.
Biological alchemy, a sensitive area rarely mentioned by wizards, but Ian felt no taboos about it. He always believed that there were only evil people, not evil knowledge.
“The knowledge of biological alchemy can also help wizards refining potions. There are connections between every magic field, and the introductory threshold of alchemy requires involvement in all subjects for good reasons.
“In fact, this is also true in refining potions. If you don’t understand the specific structure of a creature, how can potion-makers create potions that are beneficial to that creature?” Ian explained these profound truths to Lupin while buying chickens and ducks from Orphanage for the kitchen.
“So, even though I rejected you, do you still have a reason to plot against me after you returned last night?” Lupin’s expression was strange.
While helping children clean Ian’s room, he found Ian’s diary from last night. Of course, it was more of a new notebook with only one page of content. Lupin suspected that young wizards intentionally wrote it and left it in the dormitory for him to see.
“Did it tempt you?” Smiling, Ian swiftly chopped off the head of the chicken in his hand, then swiftly dissected it while Lupin stared in disbelief. Wings, breasts, skeletons, claws, legs… without any damage, even the twitching organs, everything happened in just a few tens of seconds. To be honest, seeing this speed that even a professional butcher lacked, Lupin found it hard to imagine how many chickens Ian had killed before.
“If you mean that you used only sixty words to tell me your thoughts on refining Wolfsbane Potion, and then threatened me with a 4,000-word essay that if I didn’t agree, you would turn me into what kind of sewer monster, I think I have already reported your threat to Dumbles.”
Lupin stared expressionlessly at Ian not far off. His job was to collect duck down and chicken feathers, which would later be turned into useful everyday items by the ever-resourceful Ms. Helena. Especially the duck down, down jackets didn’t come cheap in Britain.
On ordinary days, collecting duck down to make winter coats for the children was the best way to prepare for the cold season.
“That’s not some sewer beast, it’s Warwick, the Wrath Beast of Zaun. His body underwent painful experiments and mutated, fused with intricately designed fluid tanks and medication pumps that can inject alchemy-synthesized rage hormones into his bloodstream, enhancing his ability to hunt down evil criminals,” Ian corrected Lupin’s terminology.
“No matter what new name you give it, it doesn’t change the fact that you threatened to turn me into a biological weapon. I think I now understand why Dumbles wants me to keep an eye on you,” Lupin replied with a helpless look, clearly struggling to respond to Ian’s wildly imaginative and borderline creepy ideas.
“You’re making things up again. I clearly just wrote a piece of fantasy fiction in my diary. You were the one who peeked at it and assumed it was about you. If anyone’s being underhanded here, it’s you, not me,” Ian said while washing his hands after finishing up with the ingredients.
“Oh? And your ‘fiction’ just so happened to draw my face on your depiction of a ‘werewolf’?” Lupin remained unfazed, clearly not buying a word Ian said.
“I don’t know any other werewolves,” Ian replied confidently and unapologetically.
“You should be thankful I’m a fairly even-tempered werewolf. If any other werewolf saw your so-called ‘little story,’ I doubt they’d need any of your imagined potions to tear you to pieces,” Lupin said, seemingly mocking Ian, though in truth he was trying to give Ian a warning.
He didn’t think Ian was truly a bad person, just a kid with too many twisted ideas. After all, a young wizard who could take care of a bunch of younger brothers and sisters couldn’t be all that evil.
“Well, that’s the kind of challenge I enjoy,” Ian chuckled indifferently, then cast a sneaky glance toward the front door, Aunt Marilyn, who was in charge of cooking, still hadn’t returned from the supply run.
His eyes lit up at once. Sensing an opportunity, he immediately got to work, eager to showcase his culinary skills. He tossed the cleaned and cut meat into a pot of cold water to blanch it.
“Today, you’ll be having Jellied Stir-Fried Chicken and Vinegar-Blood Duck!” Ian’s cooking wasn’t exactly gourmet, but it wasn’t terrible either. He had practiced a bit in the Hogwarts house-elf kitchens. His level 3 [Cooking] skill wasn’t his peak, but when it came to creativity, Ian was unmatched. Even the house-elves had been moved to tears by his eccentric dishes.
They were literally crying from how delicious it was.
“Just hearing those names makes me want to go on a diet,” Lupin muttered, starting to suspect Ian was about to ruin perfectly good ingredients. His eyes scanned the scene, already collecting evidence.
Ian was pulling out seasonings that even werewolves wouldn’t touch. Before Lupin could stop him, Ian had already begun cooking. Left with no choice, Lupin resorted to stealthy sabotage.
Left with no choice, Lupin resorted to stealthy sabotage.
“What are you doing with your wand?” Ian looked up and saw Lupin in the corner, holding his wand.
“Routine maintenance and upkeep, of course,” Lupin replied with a straight face and calm tone. However, the battered appearance of both his wand and himself made that statement incredibly unconvincing.
“You’re not tattling again, are you?”
Ian suddenly felt like he’d discovered a core Gryffindor trait. Sure enough, as soon as he finished speaking, Aunt Marilyn burst into the house.
“I knew it! I knew it! No wonder I felt uneasy before I even made it to the front gate!” Aunt Marilyn grabbed a large slotted spoon and immediately began chasing Ian around the room.
“Damn it!”
Ian ran for his life while flipping off the schadenfreude-filled Lupin behind her back. Lupin, for his part, pretended not to see anything, silently continuing to clean duck down like the dutiful, uncomplaining man he was pretending to be.
“Little Ian! Trying to secretly cook up something that tastes like crap and feed it to us again?!” Aunt Marilyn didn’t hold back in the slightest.
Her voice carried a genuine sense of horror.
“No, no, I’m totally different now! I’ve been in school for a whole year, trained for a whole year, I’m confident I can make something that beats General Tso’s Chicken and Orange Chicken!” Ian protested.
Naturally, his protest earned no trust from Aunt Marilyn.
“You went to school, not culinary training! I’ve never heard of that Hogwarts of yours being a cooking school!” Aunt Marilyn shouted, kicking Ian, who already had his sauce ingredients prepared, right out of the kitchen. Only after checking that the chicken and duck in the pot had merely been blanched with ginger and scallions did she finally let out a sigh of relief.
“I swear cooking isn’t hard for me, I’m just trying to make dishes that suit Western tastes,” Ian argued as he leaned against the window from outside, continuing to defend himself to Aunt Marilyn.
He wasn’t entirely wrong. When making common dishes, he could always make them taste a bit better than your average home-cooked meal. After all, a level 3 [Cooking] skill wasn’t just for show.
“You’d better go back to your room and study what you’re supposed to be studying. I’ve told you so many times, just because a dish looks weird doesn’t mean it tastes better!” Aunt Marilyn was exhausted. She had once earnestly taught Ian how to cook. With her supervision, he actually did a decent job. But this little rascal had some deeply ingrained cognitive problems, he was even more stubborn than a parrot she once raised. Over time, she didn’t dare let Ian take the lead in the kitchen anymore.
“Then I’ll go back to school and cook for my classmates,” Ian said as he jumped down from the window. Hearing that, Lupin couldn’t help but twitch at the corner of his eye and silently began praying for the students of Hogwarts.
“How is someone this reckless in Ravenclaw?” He couldn’t help but echo a question many had likely asked before.
…
Life at the orphanage was always peaceful and calm, wrapped in a comforting sense of ease. After spending some time playing with the little kids, Ian returned to his room.
Dinner, as usual, was simple but satisfying. Tasty, though not particularly innovative. Everyone ate happily. Ian, despite a bit of regret, still enjoyed it a lot.
Though no longer at Hogwarts, Ian continued his tradition of an evening “mini-class”, helping his younger siblings learn the basics of reading and writing had always been part of his Quest.
Of course.
When Ian wasn’t around, Ms. Helena and the other adults at the orphanage would also teach the kids. But none of them were as well-received as Ian.
“Whoever can write down ten of the words we learned today will get to hear me tell a Resident Evil story tonight!” Ian always had a way of using storytelling to get the kids excited about learning.
Of course.
Compared to the overjoyed children, Lupin, who was about to shut himself in his room, felt a swirl of complicated emotions after hearing Ian’s announcement.
He didn’t know what Resident Evil was, but any story with that kind of name sounded completely inappropriate for children. It was probably another version of that sewer beast tale.
With that suspicion in mind, Lupin eavesdropped by the door for a while. And finally, he realized that all those terrifying stories he’d heard from the kids before Ian returned, were from Ian all along.
Still, even though he didn’t think Ian’s stories were suitable for kids, Lupin couldn’t help but listen intently from outside.
For a moment…
He even forgot his usual routine of locking himself away at a certain hour.
“And just like that, Ian, the unwilling mutant test subject and Supreme Overlord, defeated the evil Umbrella Bio-Corp and teamed up with the avenging goddess Alice to roam the world, eliminating mutated monsters.”
“It seemed like things were finally returning to normal. But in pursuit of a strange Licker, they fell into a Licker nest and began a new tale: Ian and his pendant Alice’s dreamy adventure in Wonderland.”
“Want to know what happens next? Then tomorrow night, bring me 2 jin of sunflower seeds.”
Ian, of course, never told stories word for word, he had a talent for spicing them up with his own creative flair.
Naturally.
The kids, eager to hear more, one after another patted their chests and promised to bring the snacks. Seeing the moment was ripe, Ian immediately pulled out a big bag of sunflower seeds.
“No shelling them with your teeth!”
He went around before bedtime, warning every single child in turn.
As night fell, the orphanage gradually quieted down.
Only the occasional barking of dogs in the distance broke the silence. A large Grim lay under a tree not far from the orphanage, growling threateningly at a few stray dogs trying to sneak in with ill intent.
Faced with these particularly English street dogs, the Grim’s barks sounded genuinely distressed. Just like it was said before: although under the inertia of fate, Voldemort’s soul fragment was ultimately defeated by the magic of love, some events affected by the butterfly effect had already begun to deviate.
…
Life went on as usual.
The world was still full of vitality and energy.
A new day.
A new beginning.
It was yet another hazy night where Ian failed to enter the Twilight Zone, and as he got up early that morning, he looked a bit gloomy. Once again, he wanted to pull the black-robed skeleton out of the little suitcase and give it a good beating.
However—
The black-robed skeleton seemed to have timed everything perfectly. Just as Ian unzipped the little suitcase, one of its pale bony hands would immediately reach out, grab the zipper, and zip it back up.
Ian pulled it open.
It closed it.
He pulled it open again.
It closed it again.
This tug-of-war lasted all the way until breakfast, only ending when Ian was called away by a knock at the door from Catherine. Muttering curses in his heart, Ian didn’t realize that not long after he left, the black-robed skeleton quietly unzipped the suitcase, peeked out to look around, then crawled out and disappeared under Ian’s bed.
Who knew if it was planning to jump out and scare Ian that night? Either way, when Ian returned after eating and drinking his fill, he didn’t notice anything strange under his bed or with the little suitcase.
“How much longer until I can get back to the Twilight Zone…” Ian sat at his desk, deeply frustrated, a large pile of messy parts scattered in front of him.
As Ian sighed and tinkered—
Knock knock knock~
A knock came from outside his room.
“Come in.”
Ian didn’t even have to turn around—just from the footsteps and his ability to sense emotional signatures, he already knew who it was: the disheveled, drifter-looking werewolf, Lupin.
“So, you finally changed your mind?” Ian raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Lupin.
“No. I absolutely will not drink any liquid you hand me, nor will I eat any food you offer,” Lupin replied, still extremely cautious and wary.
Considering how, after breakfast, Lupin would rather bankrupt himself buying Wolfsbane Potion in Diagon Alley than let Ian refine one for him, it was clear he truly feared being turned into some kind of test subject for a sewer monster experiment.
“Then how about just one vial of your blood?” Ian still persisted, undeterred.
Lupin pretended not to hear.
“What are you working on?” He looked at Ian’s desk and awkwardly changed the subject.
“Obviously, a revolutionary masterpiece.” Ian held up the nearly assembled device and pressed the shutter button in Lupin’s direction.
The sudden flash startled Lupin. Once he recovered, he quickly patted himself all over, checking that he hadn’t lost any limbs or been hit by a soul attack. Only then did he let out a breath of relief.
Clearly, this guy’s suspicion of Ian was getting worse by the day.
“A… camera?”
He looked at the boxy device in Ian’s hands. If not for the photo sliding out from the bottom, he might’ve thought it was an urn.
“Yes. Though it’s just a prototype, the exterior design’s not finished yet.” Ian defended his artistic taste and waved the printed photo in his hand.
“A magic Polaroid! Just pour in my custom-made potion and you get animated photos right out of the camera. No need to develop film or deal with that mess.” Ian gave an enthusiastic introduction of his invention and then looked at Lupin with expectant eyes.
“This kind of camera will definitely have a market. If it were you, how much would you be willing to pay for it?” Ian’s original intention was to conduct a bit of market research.
However—
As soon as he asked the question, he realized he had picked the wrong person.
“I’d rather save up my money than buy this flashy nonsense.” Lupin gave an honest answer, clearly after thinking it through.
“Useless? Flashy? Ha! Do you have any idea how advanced this is? How ahead of its time?” Ian waved the photo he had taken of Lupin in front of him.
“I even added a beautification feature! Look how melancholy and handsome you look in this shot! Every witch will go berserk over you thanks to my creative genius!”
Ian’s voice was filled with confidence.
Wizards are still people.
Who wouldn’t want to see a better-looking version of themselves?
“Beautify?” Lupin looked at the photo Ian handed him with a bit of surprise. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he really wouldn’t have believed that the person in the picture was himself.
At that moment, it was as if he had gained sudden insight into a whole new concept.
“Now you get how amazing it is, right?” Ian grinned and snatched the photo back from Lupin’s hands.
“Wasn’t that a gift for me?” Lupin looked regretful as Ian stuffed the photo into his robes.
“One photo sheet costs a silver Sickel.” Ian couldn’t even be bothered to shrug, he knew there wasn’t a single Knut to squeeze out of Lupin, this adult wizard.
“It’s just a piece of paper. Even with your potion, the cost shouldn’t be that high,” Lupin said, somewhat astonished. To him, a silver Sickel was already a sizable sum.
“The exact cost is confidential, but if you think the price is steep, that’s not my problem. This stuff costs way more to make than things like eyebrow pencils.”
Ian replied with full seriousness.
Lupin didn’t quite understand the last part of what the little wizard said.
But—
After a brief silence, he finally asked: “Why are you so obsessed with making money?”
That was something Lupin had never understood. In his eyes, Ian already seemed to have plenty of wealth, and students at Hogwarts didn’t exactly need to spend much anyway.
“Take a guess.” Ian didn’t give a direct answer.
“I’m guessing you want to be crucified.” Lupin replied with equal seriousness. After years of wandering, he was quite familiar with how Muggles dealt with greedy capitalists.
“…”
Ian didn’t expect Lupin to clap back like that.
“Your Wolfsbane Potion must be from Knockturn Alley. I can smell the ocean from it through your clothes and the bottle cap,” Ian retorted, refusing to back down.
He chose to strike with the sharp blade of truth.
“?????”
Lupin was momentarily stunned. Then, as if realizing something, he frantically pulled out the bottle of Wolfsbane Potion. The way he carefully opened the cap to inspect it was full of panic.
“You mean… they diluted it?”
He voiced his suspicion, clearly unsure. Lupin’s skills in potion-making weren’t bad, and from his own testing, he hadn’t detected any problems.
“Of course not,” Ian replied.
Just as Lupin was about to breathe a sigh of relief—
“It’s that the scammer put a little Wolfsbane Potion into the water,” Ian corrected Lupin’s phrasing.
“…”
Lupin looked like he’d just been struck by lightning. His expression was one of utter devastation, as if he’d lost someone dear to him.
“Looks like I’m still too naïve, nowhere near as bold as those swindlers.” Ian sighed and took the bottle of colored “medicine water” from Lupin’s trembling hands.
“I need to go back and find them!”
Once he snapped out of it, Lupin’s face was full of fury. Snatching the potion back, he turned to leave, gnashing his teeth, clearly ready to go settle the score with the wizard who sold him the fake stuff.
“If I were them, I’d have already run off by now.”
Ian’s words sent Lupin right back into a state of hopeless despair.
“Oh, right. Did you come looking for me because you wanted me to appraise your Wolfsbane Potion?” Ian was still curious why Lupin had shown up in the first place.
“Of course not.” Lupin sighed, still clearly shaken.
“It’s a letter for you, delivered by owl…” As he spoke, he pulled out an exquisitely crafted envelope, adorned with gold trim.
From the looks of it—
Lupin had probably tried to peel off those gold-lined edges but failed.
Maybe it was the odd look Ian gave him, but the embarrassed and down-on-his-luck werewolf quickly tried to change the subject:
“You have good relations with pure-blood families?”
His words made Ian freeze for a moment.
Then—
As if he suddenly remembered something, Ian immediately took the envelope from Lupin’s hand.
“Ha ha ha ha! No! This moment calls for the phrase: ‘Elder Sister, Elder Sister!’ to express my feelings!”
Ian saw the sender’s name and the wording on the envelope. Without hesitation, he tossed aside the half-finished magical camera in his hand and let out a laugh that left Lupin feeling utterly confused.
Perhaps dissatisfied with how it sounded, Ian even whistled to call back the black Phoenix, grabbed it by the throat, and made it laugh in his place.
“Keh keh keh keh keh~”
Now that sounded proper.
It fully captured Ian’s current mood.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Lupin couldn’t understand why this little wizard’s grin was practically stretching to the back of his head.
“I’ve obviously just ascended the social ladder.”
Ian knew—
His compensation had arrived. He immediately tore open the envelope, ignored the lengthy letter inside, and shook the envelope hard over his desk.
“Clatter clatter, clatter clatter~”
To be honest—
Even though Ian had been mentally prepared, the avalanche of keys that fell out still gave him a jolt. Dozens of keys clattered down, each one marked with a specific address.
“Are these Gringotts vault keys?” Lupin leaned in, stunned.
“No!” Ian reached back into the envelope and fished out a thick stack of deeds that had been stuck inside. Like a nouveau riche showing off, he slapped them dramatically down in front of Lupin.
“These are keys to Diagon Alley.”
That’s right.
Ian had just been compensated with an entire street in Diagon Alley.
Or perhaps more accurately… it was a goodwill offering.
(End of Chapter)
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