Hogwarts: Bloodline Legend-Chapter 559 - 162: Impossible Overturn!

Forcing himself to suppress the urge to send Bogin Bock a parting "Goodbye Illusion Spell," Ian quickened his steps to leave, with Lupin still trailing behind, a dazed look on his face like he hadn’t fully come back to reality.

The two of them made their way through Knockturn Alley.

They walked side by side through the narrow, twisting alleys, their feet landing on the uneven cobblestone path, flanked by shabby houses and shadowy shops, each exuding a strange, unspeakable atmosphere.

An irritable Ian kept silent as well.

After a few times opening his mouth and stopping, Lupin eventually couldn’t hold back his curiosity.

"Is your bloodline really... that... unbelievable?" Lupin had used up every ounce of subtlety he possessed in his life, and even his posture looked cautious as hell.

Could you blame him for being cautious?

News this explosive.

If Lupin’s mind hadn’t been replaying Ian’s "gift" from the Divine Clan, there’s no way in hell he’d believe something so outrageous and absurd.

But having actually witnessed Ian receive a fat slice of Diagon Alley storefronts from the Divine Clan, a few connecting dots made all the crazy rumors seem oddly reasonable now.

If this little wizard beside him really was Ian Grindelwald Dumbledore Ambrosius Prince, it made perfect sense that a bunch of Divine Clan old-timers and even veteran Dark Wizards would be all over him.

Faced with Lupin’s gaze growing increasingly weird,

The little wizard simply shot him a sideways glance.

"Only idiots believe crap that ridiculous. Are you an idiot, Senior?" He threw out a question Lupin was never, ever going to nod yes to.

"But you said, at school people call you Ian Dumble—" Lupin’s skeptical remark was cut off, because the little wizard’s hand had already dropped to his belt.

He wasn’t afraid of a first-year pulling a magic wand, but a magic potion prodigy digging out some bizarre concoction was another story. An alchemist’s fighting power isn’t just about how much magic they know.

"It’s just a nickname, ever heard of nicknames?" Ian was already regretting his previous attempt at misleading Lupin; he hadn’t expected his classmates to keep spreading rumors about him even after going home.

"Alright, let’s drop it then." Lupin nodded compliantly, following Ian’s lead, though his eyes kept darting to Ian in a way that was hard to ignore.

What can you do—some things just can’t be explained away, and as a Gryffindor with a textbook "adventurous spirit," Lupin was hardwired to buy into strange possibilities.

"I swear, those loudmouths are killing me. Turns out, a mute classmate is even more coveted than a mute bride." Ian vented his frustration on the trash littering the street. He kicked an empty tin can and aimed two kicks at a shifty-eyed cat—probably a Dark Wizard Animagus up to no good.

As the lawless lands of the British Wizarding World, Knockturn Alley was basically immune to Ministry of Magic laws, and not only did nobody clean up the mess, but every outlaw Dark Wizard in the UK seemed to have found their way here.

Maybe out there they get chased like rats, but in Knockturn Alley, they strutted around like kings. Ian could already feel more than a dozen unfriendly gazes landing on him nearby.

Some were hidden inside houses. Some were right there on the street, those black-robed wizards with their faces half-hidden, always keeping a keen eye on any little wizard who might have wandered somewhere they shouldn’t.

After all,

Little wizards are like walking treasure chests—their heart, lungs, liver, spleen, and kidneys are all first-rate Dark Arts ingredients, and especially after they’ve been tormented, little wizards are a must-have for many powerful Dark Art formulas.

According to incomplete Ministry of Magic stats, a few little wizards go missing every year in Diagon Alley, especially those whose families chose "traditional home schooling" over Hogwarts’ protection.

If Ian didn’t have a mysterious adult wizard by his side, those black-robed wizards wandering around would have already showed their true colors.

Of course,

That might actually be a scenario Ian wanted to see.

Dark Wizards want little wizards for experiments.

But who says Ian doesn’t want to grab a couple of Dark Wizards for his own experiments?

"Let’s just get to Diagon Alley, this place is toxic as hell." Lupin stayed vigilant, pointing out the way to Diagon Alley for Ian.

This really is one of the big oddities of the Wizarding World.

The country’s largest Dark Wizard hangout, set right next to the magic world’s busiest market street, barely separated by a wall—the satire writes itself.

"It’s toxic because nobody gives a damn."

Ian replied, but didn’t follow Lupin’s suggested route; instead, he scanned the rundown surroundings, the dilapidated houses, and the store signs all tottering on their hinges.

It was obvious these places weren’t running any honest business. The last time Ian saw stores like this was in a past life—those sleazy dumps that turned on garish pink lights at night and became the stuff of weird legend.

"Aurors conduct regular clean-ups of Knockturn Alley, but after all these centuries nothing’s changed!" Lupin’s tone was full of indignation.

He might be much older than Ian, with loads more experience, but all his years of wandering obviously hadn’t taught him that the world isn’t just black and white.