When Dumbledore led Iain out through the doors of Gringotts, the goblins inside were furious that so much wealth had been "taken" by Iain.
It was the kind of fury that boiled over for a moment, then had nowhere to go.
Iain did not care at all. He was still trying to digest the bombshell that he was actually Merlin's descendant.
"So from now on, when I want to express shock, I can't say Merlin's luncheon meat anymore. I have to say my ancestor's luncheon meat. Just like Merlin himself probably couldn't shout Merlin's beard when he was shocked. He could only yank his own beard." Iain was constantly adjusting the way he looked at this world.
Dumbledore walked beside him, his expression still calm. However, beneath those pale blue eyes, there was a look that only appeared after someone realized they might have done something not entirely wise.
A faint trace of regret.
There was no helping it. After all, ever since Iain had walked out of Gringotts, he had been glancing at the world with new eyes. From time to time, he even practiced some exaggerated crooked-mouthed smirk for reasons no one could understand.
"Are you all right?"
Dumbledore was a little worried about the young wizard, so he asked with concern. Unfortunately, the answer he received was still difficult for him to interpret.
"What you said back in Gringotts, Professor, wasn't it basically telling me that I now have the birthright to smirk arrogantly? Don't worry, I understand completely!"
Iain knew very well what his background meant in this wizarding society, one that placed so much importance on bloodlines. It meant the wizarding world had welcomed its very own magical dragon lord.
"..."
Dumbledore was silent for roughly a blink. In order to protect the basic structure of knowledge inside his brain from contamination, he wisely decided not to ask any follow-up questions.
That was the decisiveness of an older generation wizard.
"Next, you can buy the books you'll need for school first." Dumbledore changed the subject with perfect naturalness.
He handed the young wizard a list.
First-year students will require:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, by Miranda Goshawk.
A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot.
Magical Theory, by Adalbert Waffling.
...
One set of glass or crystal phials.
One telescope.
One brass scale.
Students may also bring an owl, a cat, or a toad.
Parents are especially reminded that first-year students are not allowed to bring their own broomsticks.
There was quite a lot on the list. Once Iain's attention was drawn to it, he finally stopped those strange pre-enrollment exercises, which made Dumbledore quietly breathe a little easier.
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"
Iain ran ahead full of expectation. Every part of his body seemed to give off the faint clink of metal.
Clearly, the young wizard had taken quite a few gold Galleons from the vault.
He had even made use of the small hidden pocket sewn into the lining of his underwear. While the Galleons were concealed very securely, they also gave his private parts an advanced training course in "egg versus stone."
It was a skill one might never use after mastering it, but one absolutely could not afford to lack.
"First-year student, are you? The textbooks you need are all over there."
At Flourish and Blotts, aside from the books being expensive, there was hardly anything to criticize about the shop.
The shop assistant, who had graduated from Hufflepuff, became a little nervous and tongue-tied when he saw Dumbledore. At a glance, he looked like the kind of former student who, even years after graduation, still felt as if he were facing the headmaster.
Similar scenes happened in most of the shops where Iain later bought his school supplies. After all, it was not common for Dumbledore himself to accompany a young wizard through Diagon Alley for shopping.
"Could the Dumbledore family have produced another wizard?"
"Maybe he's a relative..."
"Or perhaps Headmaster Dumbledore had a son in his old age? Hiss! So that's it!"
...
One should never underestimate a wizard's imagination. Their gossiping ability was also extremely impressive. By the time Iain finished buying his telescope and brass scale, he had already been given the name Albus Grindelwald.
Only God knew how absurd that rumor was. It had originated from an elderly witch on the street, someone who had clearly known a thing or two about the old headmaster's more romantic years.
"Muggles have a kind of technology, you know. They can use the blood of two men to create a child that belongs only to those men!"
The wizarding world was not completely ignorant of the Muggle world.
It was just that their understanding was clearly not deep enough, and it carried the distinctive style of wizardly speculation.
"Madam Rosier, I do not believe you should be appearing in this place."
Dumbledore naturally could not ignore it. While the young wizard went off to buy a cauldron on his own, he warned the source spreading the rumor.
The difference between Death Eaters and Saints lay in every small detail. For example, if there was a rumor, the Saints would personally spread it. Death Eaters, on the other hand, would not dare invent a segment called The Tears of Voldemort even if they were beaten to death.
"Where I appear is not for you to decide, Albus Dumbledore."
The elderly, deeply devoted Grindelwald fangirl had a very nasty attitude.
The look she gave Dumbledore was filled with cold hatred.
"I sincerely hope this was not Gellert's instruction to you."
Dumbledore did not care about her attitude. He only wanted to test why the Saints had begun moving again.
"Instruction? To kidnap the brat who inherited Merlin's prophetic talent right under your nose?"
The old witch named Rosier gave a mocking laugh.
She glanced at Iain in the distance, who had already finished buying his cauldron and was now cheerfully chatting with the owner of the ice cream shop. Then she ignored Dumbledore and turned, slipping into the crowd.
A new rumor soon began spreading again.
"..."
Dumbledore shook his head.
He could not understand why Rosier was so enthusiastic about spreading rumors. After thinking about it for a moment, when Iain came back, Dumbledore hurriedly threw the thought that perhaps this was the instruction she had received out of his mind.
"Here, Professor. The owner gave me an extra one. It tastes really good."
Iain treated Dumbledore to an ice cream. It was covered with a layer of syrup that changed colors on its own.
"It seems you got along quite well with Florin Fortescue."
Dumbledore did not refuse. Instead, he smiled and praised the young wizard's ability to make friends.
Iain nodded.
"Of course. We practically became friends. He told me a little about the history of witch-burning during the medieval witch hunts, and I shared with him a small piece of knowledge about why fruitwood charcoal makes grilled meat taste better."
"I believe we both enriched each other's knowledge. It was a very beneficial interaction for both sides."
Iain spoke frankly, smiling all the while.
"?????"
Dumbledore did not want to know how the witch hunts had somehow become connected to fruitwood barbecue. Silently, he led Iain to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions to buy robes.
"Oh! Headmaster Dumbledore, you've found me the perfect clothes hanger!"
The moment Madam Malkin saw Iain's outstanding appearance, her eyes practically lit up.
Unable to restrain her enthusiasm, she quickly pulled Iain into the inner room and declared with great seriousness that she would tailor the finest robes for him. Anything less than her best craftsmanship would be an insult to Iain's image.
"Pinching my cheeks is not allowed... Cheek-pinching costs five. I mean, five silver Sickles."
Because of his good looks, Iain had encountered similar situations in the Muggle world too.
He was clearly very practiced at handling this kind of business.