28: The Zealot's Obsession

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With Ian’s departure, the disorderly bookshop returned to its undisturbed silence.

The sun gradually sank below the horizon.

A gentle orange-red glow spread across the sky, and the earth quietly donned the splendor of night. Aurora Grindelwald turned on the lights and continued reading the notebook titled *An Analysis and Study of Runes*.

Light and shadow interlaced between the bookshelves.

From time to time, the faint sound of turning pages drifted through the shop.

Although the German girl had told Ian that the shopkeeper, Kraft, would be back soon, it was not until deep into the night, when the stars had begun to decorate the sky, that he finally appeared.

“Click.”

Night had fallen.

Aurora had already locked the bookshop’s front door. The old man pushed it open, stepped inside, and gently removed the worn hat from his head. A trace of dust from outside clung to its brim, along with the creases left by the evening breeze.

“Miss, you still haven’t retired for the night?”

The shopkeeper Kraft spoke with considerable respect, in a manner that hardly resembled the attitude an elder ought to have toward a child. His voice carried a weariness he could scarcely conceal.

“It’s still early.”

Aurora did not look up. Reading the notebook spread across her knees, she spoke in a voice tinged with curiosity.

“Besides, I would like to know what message my grandfather sent you that made you rush out in such a panic, only to return at midnight looking completely exhausted.”

Confronted by the heir of the Grindelwald family, Kraft merely pressed his lips together and shook his head. He did not provide the answer Aurora wished to hear.

“There are some matters you are not yet ready to involve yourself in.”

It was, in truth, the answer Aurora had expected.

Neither her expression nor her attention changed. She continued studying the book resting upon her knees.

“Of course I am tired. The other Saints and I are all old now. We are no longer as vigorous as we were in our youth... I do not even know whether we have enough time left to witness the day our ideals are fulfilled.”

Kraft let out a heavy sigh, slowly removed his thick robe, and hung it on the coat rack beside the door.

Even such a simple action left him breathing somewhat heavily.

“My talent is nowhere near as dazzling as my grandfather’s, and I possess none of his grand ambitions. If you place your hopes in me, all you will gain in the end is a death you cannot accept, along with nothing but regret and disappointment.”

Aurora raised her head.

With her mismatched eyes, she gazed at Kraft.

For a moment, Kraft felt dazed.

Just for an instant, he thought he had finally returned to the past—to that age when dreams and passion had existed side by side...

Unfortunately, Aurora’s words dragged him back to reality.

Everything had already passed.

The great leader had lost his freedom.

And the once-glorious Saints had become candles guttering in the wind.

“No. It will not be so.”

Kraft was not angered. Instead, his voice was filled with conviction.

“Your grandfather believes that you can complete the work he left unfinished. You will surpass him. He has already paved the way for you, and under our protection, you will succeed.”

His voice was filled with fervor.

Aurora fell silent.

She wanted very much to refute him.

But she also understood.

To the Saints, her grandfather was almost synonymous with faith itself.

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To contradict him was out of the question.

Even the slightest disagreement would provoke resistance from the Saints.

“Do you not think it cruel to place such a heavy burden upon a child?” Aurora sighed softly, a trace of sadness passing through her eyes.

“The fact that you can say such a thing proves that you are no longer a child,” Kraft replied in a lowered voice. His attitude remained humble from beginning to end.

Only, that humility did not stem from loyalty to Aurora.

It stemmed from loyalty to Aurora’s grandfather.

“Bearing the Grindelwald name, you were destined from birth to shoulder an extraordinary mission.” The words were heavy, but they were also an undeniable truth that could not be escaped through self-deception.

Aurora understood this as well.

“I do not believe I can lead you all to rise again,” she said seriously.

Kraft gave a soft laugh, clearly unconcerned.

“Lord Grindelwald saw such a future. For us Saints, that alone is enough.”

His cloudy eyes shone with unusual brightness.

That light was, perhaps, called hope.

“Perhaps the self-imposed imprisonment he is enduring now, and all the suffering he bore in the past, are merely meant to pave the way for you. Perhaps he is only deceiving Dumbledore for the sake of the greater good!”

That was the nature of a zealot.

They could always invent a seemingly harmonious and reasonable explanation to comfort themselves whenever confronted with something they found difficult to accept.

Aurora knew there was no way she could change Kraft’s mind.

Just as, over the past ten years or so, she had been unable to change the minds of the other Saints who had “accompanied” her as she grew up.

At times, Aurora truly admired her grandfather. She could not imagine what kind of personal charisma it took to make a group of people remain utterly loyal to him even after his disappearance for so many years.

They still believed he possessed godlike power.

“Let us talk about something else.”

Aurora did not wish to comment too much on why her grandfather had been imprisoned.

To this day, she had seen him only three or four times.

Powerful, elegant, gentle.

That was the deepest impression Gellert Grindelwald had left upon Aurora.

As for familial affection...

“Has Dumbledore still not approved my application for admission?”

Aurora changed the subject.

“Dumbledore is a detestable man. However, we are currently on his territory, so you should maintain at least a superficial respect for your future headmaster.”

Kraft offered the reminder earnestly. Then, in a tone of absolute certainty, he continued, “Do not worry. You need not fear being unable to enter Hogwarts.”

“Although none of us believe this school is qualified to educate you, your grandfather wishes for you to study here. Therefore, Dumbledore will not become an obstacle to your admission.”

“That damned man will agree in the end.”

Whenever Kraft mentioned Dumbledore, he spoke through clenched teeth.

In that regard, nearly every Saint displayed the same grievance.

Aurora had long since grown accustomed to it.

“That is good to hear.”

She lowered her head and resumed reading the notebook in her hands.

The entire bookshop returned to silence.

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Kraft raised his wand and cleaned his overcoat. Then, as he prepared to walk toward the back room, he noticed the three Potions textbooks still piled upon the counter.

“Has that little boy been here?”

Kraft picked up the three books with considerable interest and examined them. There were hardly any signs that they had been read. It seemed that after buying them, the boy had spent very little time studying them.

“He came to sell them.”

Aurora’s answer was brief and clear.

“That is a sly little devil, far sharper than other children his age. He did not manage to deceive you, did he?”

Kraft tossed the three books toward the bookshelves.

“Thump.”

Without magic to guide them, Kraft’s aim was truly poor.

All three books fell to the floor.

Kraft did not even consider casting a spell to save them.

Aurora looked up, her expression thoughtful.

“I gave him a gold coin.”

Her voice held little difference from usual: young and clear, her emotions steady.

“Unbelievable, unbelievable! You actually managed to get the better of that sly little devil!”

Kraft stared at Aurora in surprise. Then his face broke into a broad grin, and he raised his withered arm to give her a thumbs-up.

“I think he is quite nice. He said he wanted to be my friend.”

Aurora’s cool, delicate face revealed no expression. However, though she usually preferred to read with books resting upon her knees, she now lifted the entire notebook into her hands.

“Hm?”

Kraft noticed nothing unusual. His attention was fixed on another matter.

“Does that little devil know who you are?”

The smile vanished from Kraft’s face, replaced by narrowed eyes and wary suspicion.

“Yes.”

Aurora raised the notebook slightly higher.

“We exchanged names. His name is Ian Prince.”

The girl’s tone remained as calm as ever.

“Hah. Then he must be a Muggle-born wizard.”

Kraft frowned slightly.

He was not questioning Aurora’s ability to socialize. Rather, he was thinking of Aurora’s grandfather, who had long ago made the name Grindelwald an object of awe among wizards.

Grindelwald’s name might not inspire the same terror as Voldemort’s, but any young wizard born to a magical family would certainly know what that surname represented.

“Both his parents are wizards.”

The girl suddenly corrected him.

Kraft stared blankly for a moment.

“Is that something you saw?”

Kraft’s gaze turned toward Aurora’s eyes.

Fervor once again surfaced in his own.

“He knows what Grindelwald means, and besides...”

Aurora recalled the conversation she had shared with Ian before he left earlier that day. Lowering her head to resume reading the notebook, she spoke in an even tone, calmly delivering words that were anything but ordinary.

“He said he wants to become the Dark Lord.”

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