Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

The city lay draped in a veil of mist.

London's notorious smog wove through the air like layers of gauzy curtains, shrouding the quiet streets in an eerie stillness.

Ian walked along the cobbled road, his heart heavy with melancholy.

Though he had always dreamed of learning magic, the reality of leaving the orphanage behind filled him with a bittersweet ache. This place, for all its hardships, had been his home for the eleven years since he had crossed into this world.

"Well, it seems, Mr. Prince, you certainly know how to charm people."

Professor Snape's slow, drawling voice pierced the silence, its usual undertone of derision intact. Somehow, even ordinary words, when spoken in his signature sneer, carried an edge that made Ian want to shrink away.

Ian didn't respond.

Dragging his suitcase behind him, he merely followed in Snape's shadow. His mood was too somber to bother engaging with the Potions Master. Besides, Ian knew better than to expect any warmth from the man. Snape's approval was a prize no amount of good behavior could ever win.

Snape, however, seemed unbothered by the lack of response.

"You left all your money behind for them. Not the most intelligent move, I must say."

Ian stiffened. Of course, Snape had noticed. A wizard like him would hardly miss something so trivial.

"I kept a bit for myself," Ian replied, lifting his gaze to meet the professor's sharp, dark eyes. "Enough to exchange for wizarding currency when I get to the appropriate place."

Snape's lip curled, though whether in disdain or acknowledgment, Ian couldn't tell.

"At least you're not completely foolish," he muttered, his tone as dry as ever.

But Snape didn't stop there. He slowed his pace, casting a sidelong glance at Ian.

"You do realize you're just an orphan under someone else's care, don't you?"

Ian shrugged, refusing to be baited. "I wasn't very healthy when I was younger—probably because of magical awakening. I was sickly, weak. Miss Elena would take me to the city hospital, even though the orphanage was struggling financially back then. She still spent what little we had on expensive medicine."

Ian's voice softened as he continued, his mind drifting to memories of those who had cared for him.

"Food was scarce too, but when I was sick, Catherine would split her bread with me. Daniel would go out looking for herbs, even though his grandmother, a self-taught healer, poisoned herself with her own concoctions."

"And Mia...she was even younger than I was. Whenever I got sick, she'd pray for me all night, asking God to make me better. Everyone looked out for me in their own way."

His words hung in the misty air, gentle yet resolute.

Snape sneered.

"Touching," he said with a mocking click of his tongue.

"I'm not trying to move you, Professor," Ian said with a faint smile. He doubted Snape, who was rumored to have been a Death Eater, could grasp the concept of love.

"They've all done so much for me," Ian continued, his voice growing firmer. "Now that I'm able, it's my turn to repay them. It's my responsibility."

The young boy's conviction rang clear in the empty street. For a moment, Snape said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a scoff, he muttered, "A child worrying about things far beyond his reach? How utterly pointless."

Snape's pace quickened, but Ian kept up, his grip tightening on his suitcase handle.

"They'll be fine without your theatrics, you know. There's been an anonymous donor supporting the orphanage for years. Still," Snape added, his voice dropping, "with inflation, I suppose things are getting harder for them."

Ian didn't respond. Part of his daily routine of selling trinkets in the market had been to support the orphanage. Beyond honing his budding [Psychology] skill, it had been his way of lightening Miss Elena's burden.

Even without Hogwarts in the picture, the money he'd saved would've gone toward eggs, milk, vegetables, and meat—necessities that would have made life a bit easier for the people he cared about.

"So, are you expecting me to call you the savior of the orphanage now?" Snape's sarcasm was as cutting as ever.

"No, Professor," Ian replied, green eyes gleaming with sudden mischief. "But if you'd consider a donation to the orphanage, then you'd truly be their hero."

Snape stopped abruptly, turning to look at the boy.

"Bold of you," he said, his lips curling into something between a sneer and a smirk. "Though utterly predictable for a Slytherin."

Ian's heart sank. His attempt to appeal to the professor's guilt had failed spectacularly.

"You don't know me, boy," Snape said coldly, his black eyes narrowing. "I am no hero. And I certainly won't be giving a single Knut to some pathetic Muggle orphanage."

Disappointment flickered across Ian's face, but he quickly schooled his expression.

Snape resumed walking, leading Ian into a narrow, empty alleyway.

"Drink this."

Before Ian could question him, Snape produced a bubbling green potion and thrust it into his hands.

"Uh...what is it?" Ian asked nervously, eyeing the concoction warily.

Snape's glare sharpened.

"Do you think I need to trick you into drinking poison, boy?"

Point taken.

"Fine," Ian muttered, gulping down the potion. To his surprise, it tasted sweet, almost like coconut milk.

"You're lucky it doesn't taste as foul as your wits," Snape snapped, grabbing Ian by the collar before he could respond. With a flick of his wand, the professor Disapparated them both.

The world spun, and when Ian's vision cleared, he found himself standing in a bustling street paved with cobblestones. Shops lined the road, each more fantastical than the last, their signs advertising cauldrons, robes, and wands. Wizards and witches in colorful robes wandered the street, some carrying animals like cats, snakes, and owls.

Brooms swept the ground on their own, and spellbooks floated lazily in midair. The vibrant chaos was overwhelming and utterly magical.

Ian's heart pounded as he took it all in.

This was Diagon Alley.

And here, among the throngs of witches and wizards, his dream truly began.

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