Rosier Aiwen’s ecstasy lasted only a moment before he forcibly suppressed it.
“No, no, stay calm!
I have to stay calm!”
He understood the principle of a child carrying gold through a bustling market.
Besides, now wasn’t the time to decide whether the “filthy rich” label should be stuck to his forehead or somewhere else; the most important thing was to make a safe getaway.
His gaze swept over the bookshelves in another corner of the vault.
While they didn’t contain any profound or legendary magical grimoires, anything placed in here was far from common trash like *A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration*.
Aiwen walked over, his eyes scanning the titles rapidly: *A Brief Discussion on Ancient Runes*, *Properties of Potion Ingredients*, *Silent Casting Techniques for Common Charms*…
“In the wizarding world, the most precious thing isn’t Galleons—it’s knowledge.” The thought flashed through Aiwen’s mind.
Although he couldn’t channel a single shred of magic right now, who could say what the future held?
Without hesitation, he reached out his “wicked hands” once more.
The magic books on the shelves, along with the shelves themselves, were swept into his inventory.
To his surprise, Aiwen discovered that an entire shelf only occupied a single slot in his eighty-eight-slot backpack.
It wasn’t one book per slot.
This made him wonder: if he stuffed a mountain of miscellaneous items into a bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm and then put that bag into the inventory, would it still only take up one slot?
He would have to test that when he had the chance.
If it worked, the potential for his inventory space would be astronomical.
After clearing the bookshelves, Aiwen did one last sweep of the vault.
Once he was certain nothing had been missed, he exited.
Next, he headed to a rarely used fireplace at the back of the manor.
He pulled out the Floo Powder from his inventory and threw the entire handful in!
*Whoosh!*
Emerald-green magical flames erupted, instantly illuminating the dim room.
Aiwen didn’t step inside.
Instead, he tossed his Rosier family crest—the symbol of his identity—into the fire.
He clearly shouted the destination: “Ministry of Magic, Entrance Hall!”
The green flames surged, instantly swallowing the crest and whisking it away.
The Floo Network was under the Ministry’s surveillance.
If his high-and-mighty “father” really wanted to track him, it would be easy to trace his final destination.
“I’ll leave a seed of doubt.
Go ahead and investigate; you’ll be left speechless when you find it.
Hehe…”
Aiwen muttered under his breath, a glint of impending mischief in his eyes.
“When you find your precious crest lying quietly in a pile of ash in some Ministry fireplace, your expression will be priceless.”
O(∩_∩)O
At the thought of that image, he almost burst out laughing.
“Time to bail!”
He stopped looking at the fireplace and turned toward a small wooden door leading to the overgrown back garden.
The lock was an old-fashioned mechanical one.
Aiwen pulled out the pin that had already served him so well.
*Click.* After a soft sound, the lock yielded.
“When I get the chance, I’m definitely putting an Undetectable Extension Charm on you and sticking you in my ear!” he thought with a bit of dark humor.
Pushing the door open, he was met with a gloomy sky and waist-high weeds.
He turned back to take one last look at this cold, magnificent, pure-blood prison that had been planning an “internal purge” on him.
“Goodbye, my dear ‘family.’ Investment carries risks; one must be cautious when having children.
Clearly, this investment of yours was a total loss.
As for me…”
He grinned, revealing a row of small, white teeth.
“I’m exercising my options early and cashing out!”
With that, the small figure vanished into the tall grass and the thickening mist.
***
Rosier Manor, dinner time.
The long dining table was draped in a snow-white cloth, and silver candelabras emitted a soft glow.
Rosier Caspar was elegantly slicing a lamb chop on his plate.
His wife, Rosier Lysandra, sipped red wine with impeccable grace.
Their younger son, Peter, was absentmindedly poking at the peas on his plate with a fork.
“Where is that Squib?
It’s dinner time and he still hasn’t shown up.
How undisciplined!”
Suddenly, the house-elf Dora appeared in the corner of the dining room with a *crack*.
It was trembling all over, its large ears drooping low.
“M-Master!
Y-Young Master Aiwen, he—he’s gone!
His room is empty!
And…
and…”
The silver fork in Caspar’s hand stopped mid-air.
He frowned slightly.
“And what?
Speak!”
“And…
and Vault Number Two!
The vault is empty!
The Galleons, the Sickles, the materials…
all—all gone!
And…
and there are many books missing from the library!”
“What?!” Peter looked up sharply, his face full of shock.
“That Squib ran away?
He hasn’t even promised to give me his room for my new broom yet!”
Caspar’s expression darkened instantly, and the silver fork in his hand bent slightly under his grip.
Lady Lysandra simply set down her knife and fork with extreme elegance, picked up a snow-white napkin, and daintily dabbed the corners of her mouth.
“He ran?
It saves us some trouble later.
As for those trifles, if they’re lost, they’re lost.”
Caspar ignored his wife’s words.
He stood up and strode to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the pitch-black night that had completely swallowed the land.
Ran away?
Where could an eleven-year-old Squib go?
Diagon Alley?
Knockturn Alley?
Or did he go looking for those Mudblood “relatives”?
In any case, this had become an uncontrolled stain on the Rosier name!
“Go, find him,” Caspar commanded into the shadows.
“Keep it low profile.
Once you find him, bring everything back.
As for him…!”
He paused.
The unspoken words hanging in the silent dining room were more chilling than anything he could have said.
He had to be handled cleanly.
This stain had to be erased completely and silently.
***
All day long, Aiwen relied on his grit and adult mindset to navigate the streets and alleys of London.
His goal was clear: Diagon Alley.
It was a melting pot where information flowed freely, and most importantly, it was far from the Rosier family’s direct sphere of influence.
When it came to running away, he was a professional.
Finally, at dusk, he saw the grimy sign for the Leaky Cauldron.
He pulled his hood down low, followed a few wizards inside, and slipped into the pub.
The noise, smoke, and dim lighting provided the perfect cover.
He didn’t linger, heading straight for the brick wall in the backyard.
“Three up…
two across…”
Following the method in his memory, he tapped the bricks with his toy wand.
The wall let out a dull rumble as the bricks began to rotate, slide, and rearrange themselves.
Finally, the most prosperous, bustling heart of the magical world—Diagon Alley—unfolded before Aiwen’s eyes like a bizarre dream full of infinite possibilities!
The air was filled with the roar of voices and the flickering magical glow of colorful shop signs.
Wizards in various robes bustled about, and the air was thick with the scent of fresh cauldron cakes, the sweetness of Florean Fortescue’s ice cream, and the peculiar herbal aroma of the apothecary.
Aiwen stood at the entrance of Diagon Alley, unable to pull himself away for a long time.
(￣▽￣*)ゞ
He greedily inhaled the air—a mixture of money, magic, and freedom.
The nerves that had been frayed all day finally relaxed slightly.
What was the next step?
He had already planned it out on the way!
First, find a safe place to stay, wash off the dust of travel, and eat something hot.
Then, discreetly offload some of the copper coins and purchase supplies to make full use of his inventory.
Finally, his gaze sank into the depths of his consciousness, looking at the still-shattered, gray, and silent interface.
“Hey, buddy, look around!
What a lively world!
Keep working on absorbing my magic.
My glorious future depends on you getting ‘online’ as soon as possible!”
The panel, having received his conscious thought, gave no reaction, remaining cold and shattered.
Only the eighty-eight-slot inventory sat there obediently, waiting to be filled and utilized—to become the capital that would allow him to stir up this magical world.
Aiwen curled his lip, adjusted his hood, and stepped into the surging crowd.
His new and unknown magical life officially set sail from this crowded, noisy, cauldron-cake-scented ancient alley.