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That was what true loyalty to Albus Dumbledore looked like.
Time passed day by day. Since returning from Knockturn Alley, Ian had thrown himself into research and study. During the long holiday, each day felt both free and tightly structured.
Time slipped by in the soft friction of quills against parchment. A fulfilling life, with small discoveries and progress each day, helped to gradually soothe Ian's anxiety over the "cooldown" period of the Twilight Zone.
The most visible sign of this shift? He went from beating the black-robed skeleton three times a day, morning, noon, and night, to just twice: morning and evening.
The suitcase given to him by Albus Dumbledore was just that, a suitcase for clothes and miscellaneous items. It wasn't as expansive as Newt Scamander's, which meant the black-robed skeleton had nowhere to hide.
Every time Ian gave it a good thrashing, its pitiful howls would echo through the case, while the Dementor curled in the corner would giggle quietly to itself. That was perhaps the only joy the Dementor Ian kept could still savor.
And it was precious joy, no doubt.
Otherwise, it wouldn't keep coming back to watch every time Ian beat the skeleton, even knowing it would become the skeleton's emotional punching bag afterward.
"You're such a freak," Ian would sometimes snap at the Dementor to vent. In the heat of summer, with no air conditioning around, he often let the Dementor out to cool the room like a human A/C unit.
Its effect utterly outclassed that of a clammy air conditioner, the temperature would drop to a refreshing level in seconds. Just shove the Dementor into the ventilation ducts, and even in this old building, the temperature would quickly become pleasantly cool.
It even worked better than the Corpse Preservation Charm invented by Aurora. Yes, Ian often corresponded with his good friend. The speed of black phoenix post was only marginally slower than the Internet.
However, Aurora was frequently busy, and her replies were often delayed. Ian guessed that she might be secretly using the summer holiday to cram extra study and practice without anyone knowing.
If that weren't the case—
Spells like Corpse Preservation Charm, Instant Deboning Curse, Cranial Fountain Jinx, and Exploding Dung Maggot Hex, all of which Ian considered deeply morbid, wouldn't keep ending up in her letters.
The last one, Exploding Dung Maggot Hex, was especially insane. It could instantly convert all the food residue in a person's intestines into squirming dung maggots.
Ian honestly couldn't imagine what kind of mental state Aurora had to be in to come up with these modified charms. Perhaps she just believed that younger wizards tended to have a particular fondness for these kinds of grotesque jinxes?
"Even as someone as morbid as me, I still think these charms are utterly outrageous…"
Ian, however, didn't discourage Aurora's enthusiasm for sharing. He also shared his own research with the German girl.
Though he didn't have any breakthrough new charms to offer, his research on werewolf blood had yielded some key insights into the components of the Lucid Awakening Potion.
That led to a major breakthrough in his efforts to improve the Wolfsbane Potion. However, despite months of work, the inherent toxicity of werewolf blood remained a serious challenge.
This was also something the Lucid Awakening Potion hadn't fully solved, it wasn't a simple problem with a simple fix. With no immediate breakthrough, Ian shifted gears and instead developed two new products.
One was the Werewolf Potion, derived from the infectious traits of werewolf bloodlines.
The other was the Rapid Regeneration Potion, created by isolating and refining the regenerative properties in werewolf physiology.
First, the Werewolf Potion:
Its advantage was that it didn't need to be ingested, simply splashing it on a target would be enough to transform them into a werewolf. But its downside was equally stark: the transformation was permanent, making the victim indistinguishable from a naturally infected werewolf.
"Still due to the uncontrollable infection traits…"
This flaw wasn't unsolvable, just currently beyond Ian's reach. The best he could do for now was the second product, Rapid Regeneration Potion.
Rapid Regeneration Potion could heal all physical injuries and illnesses within 30 minutes. Because it only extracted a few key regenerative compounds from the werewolf blood, its infectivity was extremely low. As long as it wasn't consumed repeatedly over a span of 10 days or more, there was virtually no risk of turning into a werewolf.
Of course—
There was still a catch.
It was incredibly expensive to make.
Ten kilograms of werewolf blood were needed to produce just one bottle of the potion.
And although there were similar potions available in the wizarding world, they offered less dramatic results, but came at a much lower cost.
"Anyway, for now, neither of these two can be called a finished product." But Ian wasn't discouraged. He knew solving these problems was only a matter of time.
As his mastery of potions continued to rise, he was confident that he would one day perfect both brews. That confidence, born from a "cheat-like" proficiency, meant he never felt lost or unsure.
"Learning and research always make me feel fulfilled."
Sometimes, when taking a break, Ian would lie in the orphanage courtyard, watching the sunset turn the sky a soft orange hue. As the sun rose and set once more, time flowed like sand through fingertips, quiet and ceaseless.
Day after day, life wove its own unique summer story.
And so came another morning.
On a day bathed in warm, gentle sunshine, the orphanage's courtyard was filled with laughter. For Ian, this was a special day.
July 7th, his birthday.
Though the orphanage was simple, every inch of it was filled with love and hope.
Ms. Helena, the kind and ever-smiling director, had already secretly planned a small surprise for Ian.
She knew that for every child, a birthday wasn't just a marker of growing older, it was proof that someone remembered them, and that they were loved.
Nearly every orphan got a celebration on their birthday, organized as best as Helena could manage. And for most of them, their "birthday" was the day she had found them.
No notes, no records, Helena had never forgotten the beginning of any child's story.
As the noon sun climbed gently over the windowsill, the orphanage's little feast hall had already been decorated, warm, simple, and full of thought.
Colorful balloons gently swayed, and a handmade banner reading "Happy Birthday Ian" hung on the wall. The feast was more plentiful than usual, and of course, a small cake was never missing.
"Make a wish." Ms. Helena personally placed a party hat on Ian's head.
"Mm."
Ian closed his eyes, silently made a wish, then blew out the candle marking his entrance into his twelfth year. The eagerly awaiting children each received a small piece of cake.
"What did you wish for?" Lupin, who was also present at Ian's birthday celebration, was curious about what kind of desires a young wizard like Ian might hold in his heart.
"Guess." Ian blinked and gave no answer.
Next to him, a little girl named Mia, who had been staring at the cream Ian had picked off his plate, reluctantly shifted her gaze away from the cream.
"If you say your wish out loud, it won't come true. Uncle Lupin, you must be up to no good." The girl said firmly and with innocence typical of children.
"…"
Lupin didn't know how to respond. He had wanted to take this chance to talk about the dreams of young wizards but ended up being seen as the villain in the children's eyes.
"That's my fault."
He noticed several kids looking his way and could only wear a sheepish expression to admit his mistake. The children laughed happily and quietly pulled out small notebooks to jot down what had happened today.
[Today, clear skies. Senior Lupin harbored ill intentions towards me, nearly tricking innocent me. Luckily, my good social skills helped me avoid a sad and tearful experience.]
(To Be Continued…)