After the sun rose, Hogwarts Village was not without its bustle amidst tranquility.
Between the cottages, a few wisps of smoke gently rose and interwoven with the morning mist. Although it was still early, many wizards were already wandering the streets, drinking, joking, and leisurely enjoying themselves.
The cabin's windows were small, yet adorned with transparent glass. Whenever sunlight penetrated the clouds and lightly sprinkled, it would cast a dappled pattern inside the house.
Occasionally, a few tendrils of vines twined on the window lattices, with some unnamed small flowers speckling the green leaves, swaying gently in the breeze, exuding a faint fragrance mixed with a hint of earthy smell.
"Brush your teeth! Wash your face! Welcome a brand new day!"
This wasn't Ian's second day in Hogwarts Village; in fact, he had already stayed here for several days, during which Snape, who left him here, had not visited even once.
If Ian's self-reliance abilities didn't far exceed those of his peers, a little boy of ten living in a strange place would find the difficulty no less than surviving in the wilderness.
"Have a honey pastry to kick off a self-disciplined day!"
Ian had completely acquainted himself with various environments here. He first bought breakfast at Honey Duke's candy shop, then headed to Three Broomsticks Bar to prepare to buy a cup of lemonade.
"Very pleased to see you, Little Ian."
The bar owner, Rosmerta, was a lady with lingering charm, whose mature allure could captivate many regulars, yet seemed to affect Ian not the slightest.
He preferred little girls with bright eyes.
"If you could sell me a butterbeer, I'd also be pleased to see you, Madam Rosmerta." Ian's eyes were fixed on the liquor cabinet behind Rosmerta.
He had always been interested in the butterbeer everyone praised, but unfortunately, despite several attempts these days, he'd never been able to taste it.
Golden Galleons sometimes lost their effectiveness.
"If you could grow up to thirteen right away, I'd be happy to invite you for a drink." This was clearly another of Rosmerta's polite refusals to Ian.
"Rules are dead, people are alive. You need to be flexible to make big money."
Ian remained unconvinced.
"Your opinion is intriguing, but compared to the nebulous notion of making big money, I think the Ministry of Magic's fines are something that might be closer to me."
Rosmerta smiled, handing Ian a cup of lemonade.
The unsweetened lemonade twisted Ian's face with its sourness.
Of course, he couldn't blame anyone else.
He could only blame himself for not being accustomed to the local tea with milk and broth.
"Bright-eyed! Bright-eyed! This batch of lemons surely has acid enhancers added!"
Ian's sleepy eyes instantly cleared considerably.
"Hahaha, I don't sell such lemons, I just squeezed two more lemons for you!" Rosmerta laughed heartily, grabbing the money Ian had placed on the table.
This was guarding against any returns Ian might have.
"…"
Ian faced the "full malice" of an adult wizard.
What could he do?
All he could do was mutter how he'd received two extra lemons as consolation while popping two mint candies into his mouth and quickly retreating from this "evil wizard's" lair.
He had also gotten acquainted with quite a few shops in the town over these days, integrating into the environment at lightning speed, a rare adaptability even among ordinary little wizards.
Truth be told.
Even until now, Ian hadn't completely adapted to the wizards' lifestyle here.
The price level was much higher than in the Muggle world.
If it weren't for the cold Golden Galleons left by Snape, he might have ended up as a little boy selling wild vegetables in the street alleys - the kind even Ron would call pitiful.
"Little Ian, want to play another game of Wizard Chess?"
Along the cobblestone streets, there were not only shops but also various vendors, a middle-aged wizard wearing a funny hat warmly waved to Ian.
He set up shop here, challenging others to chess matches, charging only one Silver Sickle per game. If won, five Silver Sickles could be acquired from him.
"You better go trick someone else, I'm just a kid." Ian's gaze lingered only for a moment on the moving chess pieces on the table.
His refusal was resolute.
The reason naturally was that he had already been tricked out of several Silver Sickles by the chess player. This player, who understood psychology, always gave you a sense that you narrowly lost.
No matter if it was Ian as a Wizard Chess newbie or those who had immersed themselves for years as veterans, they could only obediently hand over a Silver Sickle amid a "what a pity."
At the beginning.
Ian had thought he might be some extraordinary Wizard Chess prodigy, but ever since he'd seen an international Wizard Chess participant also hand over a Silver Sickle amid a "what a pity," he realized the sinister money-making tactic the chess player employed and never attempted a challenge again.
"Honestly, you have talent, practice more and maybe you'll win one day."
The street chess player's voice earnest.
Ian pretended not to hear.
Trotted away from gambling's unforgivable sin.
"Incendio!"
The voice of the spell sounded.
A tendril of flame burst from the top of the Elder Wand.
Just as Ian had planned.
Back to the little cabin.
He commenced a self-disciplined day.
Among the magic spells in "Standard Spell: Beginner," he had learned four: Lighting Spell, Wingardium Leviosa, Unlocking Spell, and Mending Charm, all reaching the entry-level proficiency.
Currently, he was practicing his fifth spell, also one of the few spells in the first-year textbook that could cause some attack effects.
Fire-Making Spell.
This spell could summon flame jets used to ignite things, often replacing Muggles' lighters or torches.
However.
If the flame emitted by the spell were to shoot onto someone, it'd inevitably cause some burns, being one of the few attack methods first-year wizards had.
"Incendio!"
"Incendio!"
"Incendio!"
The flickering flames flashed continuously.
The skill level on Ian's personal screen also kept rising.
[Incendio (Level 1): 1/100]
When the skill on his personal screen reached level one, the familiar fatigue enveloped his whole body, indicating he should halt today's learning pace.
Clean up.
Do the laundry.
There indeed were quite a few things needed to be done. Although this life lacked the enjoyment brought by technology like TV, it carried a distinct sense of fulfillment.
As night fell.
Ian got to bed earlier than usual. The reason was none other than today's special day when he'd enter the Misty Illusion Realm in his dreams.
"Let's see if Ariana has returned."
With consciousness crossing a boundary in slumber, stepping into that realm completely isolated from the mundane world, Ian slowly opened his eyes on the reverse side of the earthly realm.
"Hmm?"
The scene before him gradually clarified.
However.
Ian didn't see the dreamlike grass and sky, nor the familiar green trees and birds welcoming him; he seemed to have arrived at an unfamiliar place.
A palace.
Magnificent.
After Ian appeared.
Countless furniture seemed to come alive, growing arms and legs, starting to flee.
"A person! It's a person!"
"So scary!"
"Wow!! Help!"
Amidst the chaotic noise.
Only a golden long bench remained unchanged.
"This is truly… surprising."
The witch sat upon it.
Looked up towards the visitor.