"And what does this have to do with my compensation? Is it because the Saints are getting active again, so, as Aurora's good friend, I'm supposed to be valued by them?"
Ian felt he couldn't be rude when judging his own headmaster's actions.
"In fact, the Saints don't really have much deterrent power on our side." Dumbledore chuckled lightly, his tone rather tinged with regret as he spoke, "It's just that the pure-blood clans aren't fools, and I'm not exactly squeaky clean myself—after all, I don't have much experience in this sort of thing."
"They're bound to find out the truth—or maybe they already have. Trust me, Ian, they'll reconsider the influence of that letter I sent to them." Dumbledore's words were full of implication, and Ian could sense a remarkable self-confidence about the headmaster's expression.
"Aren't you worried they'll report you to the Ministry of Magic?"
Ian asked curiously.
By candlelight, Dumbledore leaned forward a bit, the fire illuminating his face closer, and his faint smile grew even more inscrutable.
"I don't think they will. They know how to judge the situation… In fact, from the moment I left Gringotts with this Golden Cup, under the pursuit of Aurors, even if I confessed to the Ministry of Magic and admitted it was all my doing, the Ministry would simply claim someone planted a false memory in me."
"Every Auror present, including those Goblins, would become witnesses at the pre-trial and testify that they only encountered a follower of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald."
"Honestly, if they dared to stand up and challenge me, I'd actually be delighted." Dumbledore's soft words left Ian utterly marveling.
This was actually something Dumbledore said!
So much for 'softie Dumbledore'!
"Hiss… are you teaching me that if you have power, you can do whatever you want?" Ian wanted to reach out and pinch Dumbledore's face, suspecting that certain Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was up to mischief.
"I thought you'd be more concerned about what kind of compensation the pure-blood clans owe you." Dumbledore replied with a smile, "Ian, I just want you to understand that this world isn't simply black and white."
"You, living in a greenhouse, need to grasp this most of all—even your headmaster, that lauded hero, will, for some reasons, do whatever it takes."
Hard to imagine Dumbledore delivering such an honest self-evaluation to him, and all so calmly at that.
"I think it's a bit early for me to know all this,"
Ian quickly changed the subject.
"Who says otherwise?"
Dumbledore noncommittally nodded his head.
He noticed that Ian's gaze kept drifting to Hufflepuff's Golden Cup.
"You recognize this, don't you?"
Dumbledore pushed the Golden Cup forward, and Ian, who'd been itching to touch it, instantly reached out and cradled the cup in both hands. The intricate alchemical work confirmed his guess—it really was a treasure that could mass-produce 1982 Lafite! Wait, it could even enhance the taste of red wine!
"This should have belonged to Hufflepuff's ancestor." In reality, Ian was bursting with questions and shock, dying to know how something like this had ended up in Dumbledore's hands.
And yet—
Wasn't this thing supposed to have Diffindo and the Flagrante Curse on it? Ian gave it a pat—no cracks. Peering into the mouth, it was pitch-black and empty; inside, Riddle's shattered soul trembled—a subconscious motion from Ian, just out of curiosity, yet Dumbledore's eyes flickered visibly.
"I've already removed some of the curses on it."
Dumbledore regarded Ian with significant meaning, then suddenly smiled, "Now, there's only a certain student of mine inside—someone who's rather famous in the Wizarding World: the Mysterious Man."
He didn't hide information, the way he did with Harry Potter; straightforwardly, he told Ian that this was one of Voldemort's Soul Artifacts.
"I can't see him, but I can feel a battered soul—he seems terrified by you. So, that guy really is Voldemort's soul?"
"How did he end up in here?" Ian, feigning innocence, shook Hufflepuff's Golden Cup hard, just as if he was shaking a coke bottle.
Tom Riddle's remnant soul had just glared at him indignantly from inside.
"I thought you would have learned about Soul Artifacts by now—after all, Fiery Fire is discussed right after the Soul Artifact section." Dumbledore's casual remark made Ian's hand freeze mid-shake.
"..."
Ian truly hadn't expected a confrontation like this. He forced a smile, "Was it Aurora's grandfather who told you? Did he really know that Aurora gave me that book?"
Ian clearly knew there was no point in playing dumb. He wasn't even nervous—after all, the source of Advanced Dark Arts Unveiled was a genuine Hogwarts professor!
Learning Dark Arts?
He'd simply gotten a head start on the professor's class! If Dumbledore could hire Grindelwald as a teacher, why couldn't Ian study some advanced Dark Arts—critically, of course—from the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Dumbledore couldn't be a hypocrite, or else he'd just have to ask Ariana to arbitrate for him!
Thinking of this, Ian finally remembered why he'd come to the Headmaster's Office to find Dumbledore; he'd been distracted by Hufflepuff's Golden Cup right from the start.