Ian originally thought he needed to be in the Headmaster's office, exchanging insights on raising a young Phoenix with Phoenix Fox, and after waiting for a long time, only then would he meet the old Headmaster cleaning up the aftermath.
He was completely unprepared.
He had already used the Black Phoenix to Apparate, yet Albus Dumbledore was still a step ahead—or perhaps the Headmaster had already been waiting here for quite some time?
Ian noticed Albus Dumbledore's attire; although it was the same standard purple robe, the current Albus Dumbledore wore a deep red scarf around his neck.
Besides that, there was a difference in tidiness; the Albus Dumbledore in the underground room was evidently unkempt, while the one before him was groomed neatly.
He couldn't possibly run faster than a little wizard and still have time to tidy up, right? Ian, feeling something was amiss, hesitated for a moment before tentatively asking a question.
"Mr. Abeforth?"
He thought this might be the best explanation.
"If my information is correct, Abeforth is currently shutting down his shop due to my previous improper conduct, ranting about my faults at our old home to Ariana's grave," Albus Dumbledore gently shook his head and gestured for Ian to sit.
"Um, I remember earlier you told me you needed some time before meeting me to deal with Voldemort's aftermath with Professor Nicolas Flamel…"
Ian suddenly realized something as he quickly pulled out his Living Map, only to see Albus Dumbledore's marker on the map.
That marker was still negotiating with a group from the Ministry of Magic, even the other deans were gathered in Snape's office to jointly investigate Quirrell's cause of death.
"Very keen insight, I think the Sorting Hat was right, you possess the qualities valued by many founders. Including your strategies and tactics in dealing with Voldemort, which also showcase your exceptional skills and… cunning far beyond your peers," Albus Dumbledore smiled, glancing at the map in Ian's hand, "However, in the Wizarding World, sometimes you can't even trust your own eyes, so you should be careful not to rely too much on your map."
His words made Ian's expression change repeatedly.
"This is really a ghostly revelation..."
Ian stared at the Headmaster's Office on the map that appeared empty, feeling somewhat frustrated, "Did you do something to my map, no, to Hogwarts itself?"
He was truly speechless.
After all, the number of people capable of this is scarce in the Wizarding World, and he seemed to have encountered several of them.
Isn't it a coincidence?
"Yes, I played a little trick," Albus Dumbledore did not deny it but nodded, smiling openly.
"After all, you've sold many of these maps to little wizards, we can't be certain Quirrell won't acquire one to monitor my and other professors' actions."
An extremely reasonable explanation.
Which made Ian completely unable to refute.
The maps he sold were contraband; not being held accountable was already fortunate enough, how could he criticize Albus Dumbledore for deceiving his map?
"Actually, my initial intention was just to help those unfortunate classmates with a poor sense of direction; they belong to the vulnerable group needing assistance in this cold and massive castle," Ian defended himself, his voice not small, though it sounded a bit contrived and uncertain.
Indeed.
Albus Dumbledore seemed to know all about his business, "Selling a map for a dozen Golden Galleons, I don't think the truly vulnerable have the means to purchase it," despite the old Headmaster's gentle tone, Ian's embarrassed expression was visibly hard to hide.
"There will be ways, they will find ways to use it."
The little wizard touched his nose to cover his guilt.
He had actually opened the "Ian Loan" service for less affluent classmates after the market became saturated.
No nine returned for thirteen, no exorbitant interest rate; just a five percent service charge, hardly enough to depict him as a profiteer.
He was far kinder than banks among Muggles!
"Your business in school isn't a big deal, as long as you don't think of getting Nicolas's illegal machine," Albus Dumbledore did not dwell on it, after all, the little wizard hadn't forced anyone to buy anything; now he's worried about Ian's enthusiasm for the minting machine.
"Alright, Professor."
Ian quickly made a promise.
"Even learning to make that machine is no good," Albus Dumbledore seemed to see through the little wizard's intentions, his tone filled with uneasy vigilance.
"..."
Ian's expression immediately froze.
Clearly.
Albus Dumbledore, this old ginger, was indeed spicy enough, preemptively thwarting his ideation to circumvent the rules, leaving him momentarily unsure of how to respond.
"I guess I was right," Albus Dumbledore chuckled wryly, then sighed heavily, "The agreements signed between wizards and elves cannot be broken, it would cause a big mess; Nicolas once nearly destroyed the hard-earned peace we enjoy today because of a moment of impulse."