Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

As Ian departed, the once-chaotic bookstore returned to its usual state of peaceful repose. The setting sun dipped below the horizon, casting soft hues of orange and red across the sky. As night settled in, Aurora Grindelwald lit the lamps around her and resumed her reading of a notebook titled Runic Analysis and Research.

Shadows from the bookshelves intertwined with the light, creating a delicate dance of illumination and darkness. Occasionally, the faint rustle of turning pages broke the silence enveloping the shop.

Although Aurora had mentioned that the bookstore owner, Kraft, would return soon, it was not until deep into the night, when stars dotted the sky, that his familiar figure finally appeared.

Click!

The door creaked open.

With the arrival of night, the door had already been locked by Aurora. The elderly man pushed it open with his key, gently removing his worn hat as he entered. Dust lingered on its brim, and faint creases marked the surface, shaped by the wind.

"Miss, you're still awake?" Kraft greeted, his tone respectful, quite uncharacteristic of an elder addressing a child. Yet, a trace of fatigue laced his voice, giving away his exhaustion.

"It's still early," Aurora replied, not looking up. Her curious tone contrasted with the detached demeanor she maintained as she continued to focus on the notebook in her lap.

"And besides, I'd like to know what message my grandfather sent you that made you rush out so hastily, only to return this late, looking utterly exhausted," she added, returning Kraft's gaze.

Facing the heiress of the Grindelwald family, Kraft pressed his lips together and shook his head, refusing to address her question directly.

"There are some things you're not yet meant to know, yet," he stated with finality.

This response was precisely what Aurora had anticipated.

Her expression remained unchanged, her attention still fixed on the book in her lap.

"Of course, I am old, Miss," Kraft sighed heavily, removing his heavy robe and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. Even this simple action left him slightly winded.

"Neither I nor the other acolytes possess the vigor of youth anymore. Who knows if we'll live long enough to witness the realization of our ideals?"

Finally, Aurora looked up, her mismatched eyes locking onto Kraft's.

Kraft felt a momentary daze wash over him.

For a fleeting second, he believed he had returned to the glory days of the past—a time rich with dreams and passion. However, Aurora's voice brought him back to the stark present.

"All of that is long gone," she said somberly.

Their great leader now sat imprisoned, and the once-mighty acolytes had been reduced to mere relics of a bygone era.

"No, it's not over," Kraft insisted, shaking his head with determination. "Your grandfather believes in you, Miss. He trusts you to complete the work he left unfinished. You will surpass him. He has paved the way for you, and under our guidance, you will succeed."

His voice brimmed with fervor.

Aurora fell silent, wrestling with her thoughts.

She wanted to argue, but she knew all too well that to the acolytes, her grandfather was a living incarnation of faith. Any dissent, even mild discontent, would be met with rejection.

"Isn't it cruel to place such a heavy burden on a child?" Aurora sighed softly, a flicker of sorrow crossing her eyes.

"The fact that you can articulate such sentiments means you've outgrown childhood," Kraft responded quietly, his tone humble.

But his humility stemmed not from personal loyalty to Aurora; it arose from his devotion to her grandfather.

"Bearing the name Grindelwald means you were destined for an extraordinary path from the moment you were born," he said gravely. It was a weighty truth that Aurora could not deny.

"I don't think I am capable of leading you to a revival," Aurora admitted seriously.

Kraft chuckled lightly, unfazed by her reservations. "Grindelwald foresaw a future where you would succeed. For us acolytes, that vision is enough," he said, his clouded eyes gleaming with hope—a light born of longing.

"Perhaps all the suffering he endures now, his self-imposed imprisonment, and the pain of the past were all part of his plan to deceive Dumbledore for a greater cause!" Kraft declared passionately.

Such was the nature of fanatics; they could rationalize even the most absurd concepts into a narrative that suited their beliefs. Aurora knew there was no hope of changing Kraft's mind, just as she hadn't been able to alter the convictions of the other Saints who had raised her.

Sometimes, she couldn't help but marvel at her grandfather's charisma. What kind of person could inspire such unwavering loyalty, even decades after his departure? Who could still command such godlike reverence?

"Let's talk about something else," Aurora suggested, deftly steering the conversation away from her grandfather's imprisonment.

She had only met him three or four times, but those moments had left a lasting impression. Powerful, elegant, kind—these were the traits that defined Gellert Grindelwald in her memory.

As for familial love…

"Has Dumbledore approved my enrollment yet?" Aurora shifted the subject, eager to move on.

"Dumbledore is a despicable man," Kraft began, his teeth clenching in disdain. "Still, since we're on his turf, you should at least maintain a facade of respect for your future headmaster."

He paused, emphasizing his point before continuing firmly. "Don't worry. You needn't be concerned about your admission to Hogwarts. Though we may not hold the school in high regard, your grandfather wants you to study there. Dumbledore will not be an obstacle."

"That goddamn old man will relent in the end," Kraft muttered under his breath.

Whenever Dumbledore's name surfaced, their deep-seated resentment inevitably emerged. Aurora had grown accustomed to this pattern.

"Good," she replied simply, returning her focus to the notebook in her hands.

Once more, the shop fell into silence.

Kraft raised his wand to clean his coat, and as he prepared to retreat to the back room, he caught sight of the three runic textbooks still stacked on the counter.

"Did that boy visit today?" he asked, picking them up with mild interest. Noticing their near-pristine condition, he realized they hadn't seen much use.

"He came to sell them back," Aurora replied succinctly.

"That sly little rascal—sharper than most at his age. You didn't let him take advantage of you, did you?" Kraft tossed the books toward a shelf.

Thud!

Without the aid of magic, Kraft's aim was clearly off. The books fell to the ground with a dull thud, but he made no move to retrieve them, nor did he seem to care.

Aurora's gaze lingered thoughtfully on the scattered volumes.

"I gave him one Galleon," she stated in her unwavering tone—youthful and clear, without a hint of deviation.

"You actually managed to swindle that cunning boy?" Kraft exclaimed, genuine surprise flickering in his eyes. He chuckled heartily, raising a bony thumb toward her.

"I think he's alright. He said he wants to be my friend," Aurora said, her icy demeanor unyielding. However, for some reason, she moved the notebook from her lap to hold it closer to her chest.

"Hm?" Kraft was oblivious to her subtle action, focusing instead on another matter entirely.

"Does that boy know your identity?" he inquired, his smile fading into a narrowed, wary gaze.

"Yes," Aurora responded, lifting the notebook slightly higher.

"We exchanged names. His name is Ian Prince."

Her tone remained calm and collected.

"Hah. He must be a Muggle-born wizard," Kraft remarked, furrowing his brow.

It wasn't that he doubted Aurora's ability to socialize; it was simply that the name "Grindelwald" had long since become synonymous with reverence—and fear—among wizards.

Even if the name didn't carry the same terror as Voldemort, any wizard from a magical background would understand the weight it bore.

"Both of his parents are wizards," Aurora corrected unexpectedly.

Kraft blinked in surprise.

"Is that something you saw?" His gaze shifted to Aurora's mismatched eyes, filled with an intense fervor.

Once again, his expression turned fanatical.

"He knows what 'Grindelwald' means, and…" Aurora recalled her earlier conversation with Ian before he left. While keeping her attention on the notebook, she added nonchalantly, dropping a bombshell without so much as a glance.

"He said he wants to be a Dark Lord."