When nature called, it called.
A privy, the open ground, what difference did it make? Daring to try new things was a kind of innovative spirit, and the facts had already proven that ancient Eastern mystical methods were at least remarkably effective on a physical level.
You really don't have to be this unreasonable...
The diary very definitely chose to retreat. It was not willing to gamble on whether Iain would actually do something that outrageous, because through the diary it really could perceive the outside world.
"I know what you are. A Horcrux, right?"
"Tsk. Back when I got caught sneaking Keisha's sweets, I said exactly the same thing. 'I'm not the sort of person who steals other people's candy.'"
"But the facts proved that I was, in fact, a lowly candy thief."
Iain liked to judge others by himself, which meant he was rarely easy to trick.
Besides,
there really was a line in the Harry Potter world, and Iain had seen it quoted in several fanfics before: anything that could think but had no brain was dangerous.
"There has to be a Horcrux in this house. I'm not it. Fawkes, are you?"
Iain turned to the phoenix. Fawkes tilted his head, clearly understanding the little wizard's question.
He let out a soft cry, then slowly and elegantly shook his head, like someone performing a motion he did not usually bother with but could just about manage if pressed.
Still not fully reassured, Iain went and locked the door several more times, bolting it as securely as possible.
The diary was locked inside.
Meanwhile, Iain came away holding The Ultimate Guide to Transfiguration and let out a breath of relief, deciding that the farther he stayed from that mystery notebook, the better.
The sitting room downstairs was nice enough.
The weather was still warm, so Iain put out the fire in the hearth and simply tidied the rug in front of it before sitting cross-legged and beginning to study.
As for his future classmates, the familiar ones could get free entry into his personal favor system and spend the rest of their lives shouting that Iain's kindness could never be repaid. The unfamiliar ones could get free entry too.
Though first, he intended to let them witness the true shock of weekly passes, monthly passes, annual passes, VIP, and SVIP.
Cradling all sorts of fantasies about magic, Iain plunged into the book with ravenous focus.
This was not exactly a beginner's book on Transfiguration. In fact, that entire bookcase contained almost nothing basic. The Ultimate Guide to Transfiguration was simply the one that interested Iain most.
Most of the theory inside it was beyond him.
But as far as Iain was concerned, as a humble little wizard, all he really needed to do was memorize it.
When it came to division of labor, Iain had always trusted his super-brain. The actual understanding could be left to the responsible departments later.
"No matter how many twists and turns there are in all this, the essence of Transfiguration has to be one thing only: changing one material form into another."
"That requires the caster to possess clear imagination and firm willpower. A wand is merely a tool for guiding magical energy, but the true power comes from the caster."
See? His super-brain really had managed to extract quite a few understandable concepts for him.
With that in mind, Iain raised his left hand.
There were five fingers on it.
And faint scratches in his palm left by a cat.
"I remember that house-elves can cast with just their fingers. So actually, even before buying a wand, I myself already come with twenty built in... no, twenty-one wands?"
As he muttered to himself, Iain felt certain he had understood something profound.
He truly was gifted.
Right from the start, he had seen through the fact that wands were part of the wizarding world's capitalist trap.
For example, take my older sister. Before even entering school, with no wand at all, just by using her mind to move the ancient magical power inside her body, she could fight a fully grown troll one-on-one.
The record speaks for itself.
The hauntingly persistent notebook had appeared again.
It flew directly in front of Iain's face, startling him so badly he nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Damn it! How did you get out of the room? I put six locks on that door! Don't tell me a notebook can cast the Unlocking Charm too?"
Iain scrambled backward several feet, feeling a level of horror no less intense than if Sadako had just climbed out of a screen while he was in the middle of studying advanced craftsmanship.
You really should have measured the gap under the door.
The diary floated over to the opposite side of Iain, opened itself, and settled beside Fawkes while new words began appearing on the page.
It even explained the route by which it had "escaped prison."
"..."
Even the wise slipped up once in a thousand calculations.
A thoroughly stunned Iain could only comfort himself with that thought.
Perhaps you are not actually quite as clever as you think. For example, you really ought to understand that if I wanted to hurt you, your soul would already be trapped in an enchanted illusion by now.
The diary did not just strike.
It struck at the heart.
"You're lying!"
He meant that the thing was wrong to accuse him of not being clever.
But the diary was already making jokes again.
Ha ha, saw right through me, did you? True enough. Actually, if I wanted to drag you into an illusion, I wouldn't even give you the chance to notice. Hee hee.
It had somehow managed to sound playful.
That settled it.
Only a truly evil Dark object could make remarks like that.
"Hee hee your head, you creepy little demon!"
"Fawkes, it's your turn! Use Phoenix Fire! Burn it! Burn it!"
Iain shouted the order, while the phoenix beside him seemed to stiffen from head to tail.
Even the diary appeared momentarily unable to bear the scene.
And it floated after him.
It had taken the bait.
"Prepare to die, you innately evil Dark object! I'm a wizard! I firmly believe my William Mills Death Package can blow you to pieces! It absolutely can!"
As Iain spun around, he now had two grenades in hand, along with the unwavering wizard's conviction that belief itself guaranteed victory.
And so,
BOOM!
Dumbledore's old house,
which had gone many quiet years without incident,
suddenly found one local corner of itself
warming back up,
turning red again,
and catching fire all over once more.