That very evening, Kyle devoured two full bowls alongside the steamed trout.
After savoring a delightfully satisfying dessert, Kyle, eager to master healing spells, dashed into the kitchen in a flash to experiment on the fresh ingredients tended by the house-elves.
Watching Kyle's figure vanish down the hallway, Alfred spoke up: "Speaking of which, in just a couple more days, it'll be young Master Kyle's birthday, right? Have you prepared a birthday gift?"
Grindelwald spread his hands helplessly: "I don't know what to get him. He seems fascinated by everything magical. What do you think of a flying broomstick?"
"I don't think that's a good idea," Alfred turned to Grindelwald, winking mischievously. "Perhaps you could take young Master Kyle to an amusement park for once?"
"Do you think that's appropriate?" Grindinwald tossed the question back to the old butler.
Alfred teased: "What's inappropriate about it? Young Master Kyle's childhood hasn't been filled with the kind of fun other children have. Maybe you could take him to make up for those missing parts."
"I think he'd be more interested in a pub than an amusement park." Grindelwald curled his lip.
Hearing Grindelwald's words, the old butler felt his mood go to the dogs.
"What about magical creatures?" The old butler narrowed his eyes. "Like... a Demiguise, for instance."
Of course, Alfred didn't mean to actually give Kyle a Demiguise as a pet.
Demiguise were quite dangerous magical creatures.
Even an excellent adult wizard might not stand a chance against one in single combat.
The old butler was just bringing up how Newt Scamander had once used a Demiguise to block Grindelwald's spell, then seized the opportunity to subdue him—purely to tease.
At Alfred's words, Grindelwald's face twisted. "Speaking of Demiguise, I've suddenly remembered something I need you to handle."
"What is it?" No need to ask; the old butler could roughly guess.
"Find out where Newt Scamander lives," Grindelwald let out a series of dangerous, cold laughs. "Buy a house next door to him. I want to be his neighbor."
The corners of the old butler's mouth curved into a malicious smile. "Understood. Any other instructions?"
"I remember he has a grandson? Seems like he's almost old enough to start school, right?" The old Dark Lord's eyes gleamed with dangerous intent, full of wicked ideas.
Alfred, no saint himself, wore a smile laced with playful malice.
"I'll look into it for you."
With that, Grindelwald raised a hand. The old butler stepped back a few paces, turned, and left the dining room.
Meanwhile, far away in Dorset, England, a certain magical zoologist inexplicably sneezed several times in a row.
Newt, danger!
A little past eight in the evening, Kyle finally emerged from the kitchen.
His grasp of healing magic had deepened considerably—progress was remarkably pleasing.
Give him a few more days, and he'd surely master it completely.
Even fully mastered, though, his healing spells could at best promote blood circulation, remove stasis, and accelerate the healing of minor external wounds.
Serious injuries like fractures weren't impossible to treat, but they might take quite a bit longer.
To heal a bone crack in just a few seconds like Alfred had done for him—that was still a long road ahead.
As for why he'd only practiced for a little over two hours before leaving the kitchen...
Kyle let out a massive burp. It wasn't that he didn't want to keep practicing; he simply couldn't eat any more.
Emerging from the kitchen, Kyle strolled unhurriedly toward his old man's study.
He knocked on the study door.
"Dad?"
No response. Not in the study?
Kyle pushed the door open and went straight in, familiarly heading to the bookshelf to pull down a copy of Dark Arts Exposed.
This wasn't the first time he'd done this.
Compared to Dumbledore, who strictly limited his exposure to dark magic, Grindelwald was far more lax. As a former Dark Lord, Grindelwald didn't oppose him learning dark magic—in fact, he encouraged it.
That was why, back when Kyle had barely recognized Grindelwald for an hour, he'd ruthlessly ditched his fussy old mom Dumbledore and run off with his cheap dad.
As for Dumbledore's warnings like "studying dark magic affects a wizard's mind"—yeah, take those with a grain of salt.
If under Grindelwald's guidance Kyle still ended up like that... GGAD might as well delete their accounts and start over.
But learning dark magic was dangerous. Even with the old Dark Lord's instruction, Kyle had to proceed step by step, cautiously starting from the basics.
Take this book, essentially an introductory text on dark magic: Dark Arts Exposed.
Kyle had already read it twice. Most of the content was the author's insights on dark magic, with relatively few actual spells recorded.
But he had spotted one particularly interesting curse in it—the Entrail-Expelling Curse.
This low-blow spell held a peculiar, deadly allure for Kyle, who had mastered Konoha's ultimate taijutsu, the Thousand Years of Death.
The moment he mastered it, Kyle had rushed to the kitchen to wreak havoc on a pile of chickens, ducks, geese, and the like.
Good thing this world had convenient cleaning spells like Scourgify, or the kitchen probably would've been unusable.
What interested Kyle most now was whether this spell could be modified.
For example, swapping out the entrails for something else—like the bladder, prostate, or corpus cavernosum.
Propping his face with one hand and flipping through the book with the other, Kyle pondered how to improve the curse's effects.
The book in his hands didn't have much left to offer. What was really stumping him now was another issue.
He'd long realized that a wizard's will could alter a spell's effects to some degree.
If he imbued the spell with his own ideas during casting, he should be able to change the target.
The problem was, ever since that incident in the kitchen last time, Grindelwald had forbidden him from using the spell on the fresh ingredients there.
He couldn't think of anywhere else to test it.
Listlessly, Kyle shoved Dark Arts Exposed back onto the shelf and started scanning for other books.
His gaze landed on another volume—Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood.
If he remembered right, the author of this book was...
Kyle pulled it from the shelf. The cover boldly displayed the name Albus Dumbledore.
Looks like his old man was a total tsundere.
Their current relationship was a bit like Kogoro Mouri and Eri Kisaki.
Grindelwald clearly still harbored deep feelings for Dumbledore but refused to admit it.
Back when he'd whisked Kyle away from the pub, he hadn't spared Dumbledore a single extra word—just grabbed him and bolted.
Seeing how Grindelwald still kept Dumbledore's works, reconciliation was probably just a matter of one of them speaking up.
But neither would say it first.
Kyle flipped through the book casually, and a letter slipped out from between the pages.
————
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