Perhaps.
In the girl's heart.
An accomplice is a relationship closer than friendship.
No academic background surpasses this.
"This person suddenly disappeared in the town, I'm afraid the Aurors will be drawn here soon." Ian still remembered that the wizards on the street said that even a bar fight could attract Aurors.
To the police of the Wizarding World, they seem to have eyes everywhere. They may not know what happened, but they always sense when something is amiss.
Does the Wizarding World also have a divinatory eye?
Similar to Tracking Threads, perhaps?
"Craft will handle everything."
Aurora helped Ian close the lid of the wooden box. She seemed long accustomed to such things, effortlessly familiar with the whole process of murder and destruction of the corpse.
"That's good."
Ian's heart was still somewhat restless, but clearly he couldn't do anything about it. From the moment he stepped into this bookstore, avoiding involvement was never an option.
Blame it on today being inauspicious.
If only he had lingered at home for an extra two minutes over a meal, engaged in an additional two minutes of Oliger... Now, it's too late, his sensitive identity as part of Wu's Orphans further clouded.
"Did you use Fiendfyre just now?"
Ian watched as Aurora first cleaned the ground with water, then destroyed the broom and mop, feeling he needed some emotional reassurance.
"Do you want to learn?"
Aurora seemed to see through Ian's thoughts. No keen observation was necessary, after all, Ian's somewhat bright eyes were filled with curiosity and longing for Fiendfyre.
"Yes, is it very easy to lose control?"
Ian still remembered in the original story how one of Malfoy's cronies got burned while playing with fire. That magic was terrifying, far more dangerous than the magic he attempted to strengthen last night.
"It's in the book I gave you; my grandfather's explanations are always detailed." Aurora returned to behind the counter, sitting back on that chair without a backrest.
"I feel like it shouldn't be difficult for you."
She acted as if nothing had happened, picking up and flipping through that Magic Notes book again.
"Thanks, I'll flip through it once I get back."
Ian was already eager to make his escape.
"Remember to take the trash with you."
Aurora did not lift her gaze, her attention returned to the notes. The trash she referred to, clearly, was the box left in place, even the edges with traces of corpse ashes.
"You really know how to order people around."
Ian was rather hesitant to parade around with such dangerous goods.
"I haven't been granted permission to leave this store, is it okay if I treat this as a request?" The tone from behind the counter was slightly helpless as Aurora spoke.
"Alright, since I enjoy helping friends, but next time you'll need to give me something in return."
Ian made sure to wrap the wooden box in burlap, ensuring no ashes would leak out before heading towards the door with the sustainably wrapped box.
"Accomplices."
The girl once more earnestly reminded him.
"..."
Ian always felt that this was a term close to Azkaban, he hurried out of this Dark Wizard's lair, breathing the bookstore's clean air devoid of the smell of scorched flesh.
Ian arrived.
He left.
Coming here with a brand-new box laden with knowledge.
Leaving with an urn containing the ashes of the dead.
The box was still the same.
Only its usage had changed somewhat.
On the way back.
Ian's mood was tense. Luckily, no idle wizard stopped him for questioning, only the street vendor Wizard Chess player greeted him amiably.
Approaching the start of term.
Hogwarts Village saw many unfamiliar faces. Although not as prosperous as Diagon Alley, it was still one of the few places of exchange for English wizards.
Historically rich.
Ancient in tradition.
On his way, Ian even saw some young couples, already of the same attraction, like the other wizards along the way, he was indifferent to this.
Though it's the Wizarding World, after all, it's England, known for many small cities.
"Professor."
"Good morning, Professor."
...
Along the way.
Ian saw a few clearly adult wizards greeting a woman purchasing supplies in the village, he could recognize her as a Hogwarts teacher.
Head of Gryffindor House.
Minerva McGonagall.
She taught Transformation Technique at Hogwarts, he wondered why she was shopping in Hogwarts Village, perhaps she had a house there?
Like Snape's cottage.
"You actually have a child now? Crybaby Henry."
"Richard, I heard you passed your Auror exam, congratulations."
"Daisy, your story on how you turned your magic wand into pig hooves is still my favorite classroom tale."
...
Professor McGonagall seemed to remember every student who graduated, whether they came from Gryffindor or not, accurately recalling each one's embarrassing moments.
Perhaps.
Only by holding genuine love for one's profession can one remember all the fleeting moments in their career.
"Not as harsh as in the movies, maybe because we're not at school." Ian viewed this scene from afar.
Holding a box with buried ashes, he dared not approach a keen-eyed professor, wisely avoiding the Hogwarts seniors by taking a different path.
Disposing of the urn idly couldn't work, if someone dug it up, it would be a big problem. Maybe burying it in the garden, but even then, it might be discovered by Snape later.
Throw it into the river?
If witnessed by anyone, that would also be trouble.
"Looks like the ancestral ways are the most reliable!"
Back at the cottage.
Ian pried open the recently laid floorboards, dug into the freshly filled living room, burying the entire wooden box with ashes in the soil beneath.
"There's really quite a bit of space here, burying ten or eight people might not even be an issue."
Ian covered the soil back up, nailed the living room floor down again, comparing it to the previous layout, feeling there was no trace of anomaly before relaxing and filling his stomach with a Crucible Cake.
Eating and drinking.
Ian retrieved his hidden "Advanced Dark Arts Unveiled" from the toilet tank.
"I'm still too weak!"
In truth, prior to today.
Ian had been somewhat complacent. After all, holding the Avada Truth at a young age, to say he wasn't even a bit inflated would be unthinkable.
Yet.
The Fiendfyre Spell cast silently by his peer made Ian realize once again that this world isn't lacking in geniuses, nor in conflicts that arise without provocation.
Strength allows for survival.
Weakness only leads to burial.
Not wanting trouble doesn't mean trouble won't find him.
"In this harsh Wizarding World, I'm practically treading on thin ice!"
Reflecting upon the adult wizard burned alive earlier, Ian understood that only by persistently bettering himself could he feel sufficiently secure.
"The great ones were right, peace and stability exist only within the coverage area of Avada Lightning Chain..."
The book opened.
Under the glowing wand.
Forbidden knowledge unfurled for the budding ideal.