"Am I not poor enough right now?" Ian temporarily put his money bag into Aurora's robe pocket, demonstrating to the German girl exactly what it meant to be shamelessly justified.
"…..."
Aurora still felt she couldn't quite figure out Ian's way of doing things.
Just as she was contemplating what to say—
"That's the guy!"
Ian saw his target, the one he'd been watching, get up to leave. He quickly pulled Aurora along to follow. Any wizard wrapped up in a black robe like that couldn't possibly be a good guy. This guy had just sold some illegal potion to a wizard—a bunch of brews made from the blood of rare Fantastic Beasts.
Ian had read "Fantastic Beasts Distribution and Sentencing Standards" given to him by Qiu Zhang. If caught by the Ministry of Magic, black market dealers selling blood products would be guaranteed at least a lifetime pass to Azkaban.
"Master... that little wizard just walked straight in. Shouldn't we kill him?" The wizard left in the bar had a face full of creases, but in his heart, he asked the very question only Quirrell would dare ask.
"Are you still under the delusion that you're strong?" Voldemort furiously berated Quirrell in his mind, after taking the Polyjuice Potion. Both he and Quirrell obviously recognized Ian, who had taken the Aging Potion.
Maybe this really isn't a very good potion.
"Hurry back! We only have one chance! Dumbledore could return at any moment!" Voldemort started urging Quirrell to return to Hogwarts.
Tonight, he'd borrow the potion's brief rejuvenation to take the Magic Stone. When the time came, all his lost power would return and, using this servant's body, he would finally be reborn.
Then—
Everything would return to the way it should be. The feared name of Voldemort would once again ring throughout the Wizarding World—getting more excited the more he thought about it, Voldemort could hardly contain his urge to act.
"Care for a game of chess?"
A street chess player tried to drum up business.
"Get lost!"
Voldemort snapped through Quirrell's mouth—only to realize he was merely borrowing Quirrell's voice for a moment. For some reason, his weak soul felt even more unsteady.
As if he might dissipate at any moment.
"Hurry back! Something's wrong with me!"
He couldn't figure out what exactly was wrong with his condition, but he knew: As long as he got the Magic Stone, his frail, restless soul could be revived.
"Seems like the old guy who left shoved some tasks onto this dumb descendant of mine... stole my babysitting job." The street chess player glanced at Quirrell's disappearing figure and curled his lip.
He looked at the chess pieces on his board. One of the translucent pieces looked just like a crystal ball, showing images of Ian and Aurora intercepting the black market dealer.
The two followed the black-robed wizard out to the suburbs before making their move. Just to be safe, they both did some facial Transformation—although Ian wasn't very skilled with this magic.
He couldn't make minor adjustments, so he simply copied Riddle's face.
"No selling of these illegal goods around Hogwarts!" Ian cleaned out all the black market dealer's belongings; dealing with a not-so-powerful rat was child's play for him.
"Are you Aurors?"
The black-robed wizard, whose wand had been blasted away, held up his hands, not daring to resist. While Ian was patting him down, not far away, an extraordinarily pretty girl was aiming her wand at him. The blue light and Avada-level magic power fluctuation convinced him—especially as someone from Ravenclaw, just like Quirrell—not to play hero.
This pretty looking, barely-of-age young lady—her wand reeked of murderous intent. It was the kind of kill-you-to-release-you, doing-you-a-favor type of killing vibe!
"We're the Ministry of Magic's Black Robe Investigation Team, specializing in taking down criminals like you who disturb the peace around Hogwarts." Ian made it up on the spot, spur-of-the-moment.
The black-robed wizard's face went even paler. He'd never heard of such a department, but that only made him more suspicious that this was some secret Ministry of Magic squad.
Like how the Church Court has the Inquisition.
No reason the Ministry of Magic couldn't have a Black Robe Investigation Team.
Just look at their style!
These two must be part of some Ministry deep ops, raking in dirty cash for the top brass—a realization that made the black-robed wizard feel as if he'd seen through the shadowy underbelly of the Wizarding World.
"I'm just selling things that aren't deadly."
As the black-robed wizard tried to defend himself, he saw Ian pull out a cursed doll—a tool specifically for targeting your enemies—from his belongings.
"Not particularly deadly…"
He instantly changed his tune, feeling guilty.
"Are you sure that's all you have?"
Ian wasn't concerned about the legality; he just inventoried the dozens of pouches he'd found—their contents were, at best, moderately pricey.
"That's it, mate. If I had enough capital, I'd have opened a shop in Knockturn Alley by now—why would I still be hawking dodgy goods out here?" The black-robed wizard put on his best pity face.
Ian was the king of playing the pity card. He obviously wasn't buying this act.
"I only caught wind of you because I took a Blessing Potion!"
Ian scoffed, then glanced at Aurora. "Is your Truth Serum ready? Got a bit to try on this guy?"
Aurora nodded immediately upon hearing this.
"No problem, just a little, right?"
As she spoke—
She pulled out a huge thermos.