Chapter 29: Are Young Wizards Always This Bold These Days?

Some words are so shocking that they demand attention.

Kraft's eyes widened in disbelief.

"What… what did you just say!?"

For a brief moment, he thought his aging ears were playing tricks on him. Surely, he had misheard. There was simply no way that a young wizard—especially one still in school—had uttered something so utterly outrageous.

Aurora, however, remained as calm as ever, her tone neutral, as if she were merely summarizing a routine conversation.

"He said he wants to become the Dark Lord," she repeated with measured clarity.

Then, as if realizing she had left out a minor but important detail, she added, "Oh, and he also wants to go to Nurmengard to study under my grandfather. He believes it would be beneficial for his education."

Her expression didn't shift in the slightest. Her tone was devoid of emotion.

Aurora felt her summary was precise—concise and to the point.

After speaking, she returned to reading her notes, completely unbothered by the weight of her own words.

From beginning to end, the German girl's voice remained calm, as if she were discussing the weather or the contents of her school assignments.

Kraft, however, had an entirely different reaction.

His mind reeled. His breath hitched. His fingers clenched against the worn fabric of his chair.

Had young wizards become this audacious these days!?

"?????"

He was utterly dumbfounded.

Though his knowledge of Hogwarts was limited, he was certain of one thing: graduating from there shouldn't require seeking guidance from Gellert Grindelwald.

And more importantly—what kind of student openly declared that he wanted to become the Dark Lord?

This wasn't normal ambition. This wasn't some idle fantasy. It was the kind of statement that sent shivers down the spines of those who understood exactly what it meant.

"A power-hungry schemer, emerging from Dumbledore's school once again!" Kraft's shock quickly transformed into something else—an amused, almost maniacal delight.

He let out a sharp, barking laugh, his old shoulders shaking with mirth.

"Hahaha! The Greatest White Wizard? How utterly laughable! How ironic!"

The more he thought about it, the funnier it became.

The initial shock faded, replaced by wild laughter that echoed through the dimly lit room.

Kraft never doubted the truth of Aurora's words.

After all, this was precisely the kind of development he and many of the Saints had long awaited—Dumbledore had once nurtured a Voldemort, and now, another boy from his school sought to walk the same path.

What could be more delightful?

Nothing.

To the Saints, this was undeniable proof of Dumbledore's hypocrisy. If he was truly the beacon of righteousness he claimed to be, then why did his school keep producing such anomalies?

"Excellent. I underestimated that boy's arrogance, but this isn't bad news for us," Kraft said, leaning forward. His tone had shifted, taking on the practiced cadence of someone who had spent a lifetime manipulating the ambitions of others.

"You should consider extending him some favors—small gestures can go a long way in winning loyalty."

He smiled, his expression shrewd.

"I've observed him; his magical talent is considerable."

Kraft's laughter had been so intense that he had to sit back down, rocking into his worn-out chair. He caught his breath, his cloudy eyes gleaming with excitement and anticipation.

Anything that discredited Dumbledore was something worth encouraging.

"Winning loyalty, you say? My grandfather taught me that lesson well. So, I gave him a book," Aurora said, pausing before adding, "One of my own."

She made a point of specifying this, not wanting Kraft to assume she had merely gifted something from a bookstore.

Not that Kraft particularly cared.

What mattered to him was that she had already begun the process of swaying the boy.

"Wonderful! Applying what you've learned—that is growth!" Kraft clapped his hands in delight.

"At your age, gaining the loyalty of other young wizards isn't difficult. I believe you may have already secured your first follower."

Kraft had great confidence in Aurora.

Not only because she had inherited that extraordinary gift.

But also because he knew that her striking beauty alone was enough to exert a powerful influence over boys her age—what many would call their white moonlight.

That, too, was an advantage to be exploited.

Kraft looked at her with admiration and expectation.

Aurora, however, shook her head.

"I don't believe a book is enough to make someone pledge their loyalty to me."

She was remarkably clear-headed, closing her notebook and tucking it into a drawer.

"Of course, of course. This is just the beginning."

Kraft maintained his pleased expression.

"Such methods may work on most young wizards, but Ian Prince is different."

Aurora's tone remained steady.

Her youthful yet strikingly refined features bore a seriousness beyond her years.

"Oh?"

Kraft narrowed his eyes, a flicker of suspicion creeping into his gaze.

For a moment, he had been focused on how Aurora's charm might influence the boy—he had nearly forgotten.

Ian himself was… exceptional.

"You're overthinking this," Aurora sighed.

"Yes, I admit, he's the first person to dare befriend me. That does make me somewhat curious about him. But that's not why I believe Ian Prince is different."

Her heterochromatic eyes carried an eerie stillness, a maturity that did not belong to a child.

Kraft remained unconvinced.

"Perhaps he is simply your first friend, making you feel as though he is special?"

Aurora exhaled softly.

"You've taught me many things," she said. "And because of that, even after only a brief interaction, I know—he is not someone who follows others."

"He will never become one of you."

Her words were precise, carrying an unshakable certainty.

Kraft, however, merely chuckled.

"That's only because you haven't yet given him something to believe in," he countered. "Don't overestimate the resolve of others, my dear.

"All this talk of becoming a Dark Lord and learning from His Excellency Grindelwald—it's nothing more than the delusions of an arrogant boy who hasn't yet faced reality.

"But as time passes… as he experiences hardship, realizes his own limitations, and confronts his own mediocrity—if he's truly intelligent, he will learn to align himself with the powerful."

Kraft's voice carried the weight of experience.

Aurora, however, remained unfazed.

"No."

She shook her head firmly.

"You're wrong."

Her eyes closed briefly.

Then, when she reopened them, she turned toward the doorway, as if seeing something far beyond the present moment.

"I've seen him."

She wasn't speaking to Ian this time.

She was explaining herself to Kraft.

"Seen him?"

Kraft frowned.

"Not just today," Aurora clarified. "I saw him before—at Diagon Alley. Before I even entered that shop, I had already seen something."

She spoke softly.

Realization dawned upon Kraft.

"You mean to say…?" His voice trembled.

His gaze locked onto Aurora's face, searching for confirmation.

Aurora slowly nodded.

"My gift isn't as strong as my grandfather's," she admitted. "But occasionally, I catch glimpses—fragments of the future."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"I saw him. I saw a piece of what's to come."

Kraft swallowed hard.

"You saw him becoming the Dark Lord?" His voice was unsteady, as if unwilling to believe but unable to deny.

Aurora shook her head.

Kraft's expression twisted in confusion.

Aurora had no intention of being cryptic.

"I saw him standing before a tower, raising his wand, casting a spell."

A mist obscured most of her vision, but one detail stood out crystal clear.

Her lips barely moved, but her words landed like a thunderclap.

"Albus Dumbledore was on his knees, weeping at Ian Prince's feet."