Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

Movies are, after all, just movies.

Limited by special effects and camera angles, they only ever show a mere fraction of Diagon Alley.

But stepping into the real thing? It was something else entirely.

Ian immediately realized it wasn't the quaint market town some joked about, nor a relic of a bygone era. This was the most vibrant wizarding hub in all of Britain—a bustling center of magic and wonder.

"This is… incredible!" Ian thought, overwhelmed with excitement.

Despite his first experience with Apparition, Ian didn't feel the expected nausea or discomfort. He realized, belatedly, that it was probably thanks to that disgusting potion Snape had made him drink earlier. To his surprise, Snape's meticulousness in this regard completely overturned Ian's perception of him. Could it be possible that this grumpy professor actually had a caring side?

Dumbledore's words suddenly echoed in Ian's mind. What kind of debt could compel Snape to behave in such an uncharacteristically thoughtful manner?

"Could my parents in this life have died because of something Snape did while serving Voldemort?" Ian wondered, his mind whirling with possibilities.

Before he could dwell too much on it, Snape's curt voice cut through his thoughts.

"Keep up."

Snape had released his grip on Ian's neck and was striding ahead, not bothering to glance back. Ian scrambled to drag his oversized trunk and follow, weaving through the crowds.

The street was bustling with witches and wizards of all kinds. Although Snape didn't look back, he maintained a pace that ensured Ian wouldn't lose him in the throng.

"Professor, where are we going? The bank?" Ian asked curiously.

"It's called Gringotts. Don't let your Muggle ignorance taint your understanding of the wizarding world," Snape snapped coldly. Still, he deigned to answer Ian's question.

"And curb your mental intrusions," he added, his voice lowering to a sinister tone. "These wizards won't spare you just because you're a child. A dark wizard could easily snatch you up for some… experimental research."

Ian shuddered but nodded. He attempted to clear his mind, dampening his "Mental Perception" ability, though he couldn't fully control it yet.

To distract himself, Ian turned his attention to the magical creatures around him. Beyond the wonders of Fantastic Beasts, he was eager to see the reality of goblins and other beings he'd only read about in fantasy stories. Just how grotesque were goblins in real life?

But Snape didn't take him to Gringotts.

"I need all the required textbooks for a first-year Hogwarts student," Snape announced as they entered Flourish and Blotts. This sprawling bookstore, controlled by some pure-blood family, practically monopolized the wizarding world's academic book market—a system Ian found eerily similar to the practices of Muggle schools back in his previous life.

"Right away, Professor Snape," the store clerk replied, his tone tinged with nervousness. Clearly, he recognized Snape and was wary of him—perhaps even a former student.

Ian, standing behind Snape, muttered to himself, "I don't even know what books I need. I haven't even received my Hogwarts acceptance letter yet."

"You're obsessing over a meaningless piece of parchment?" Snape sneered, casting Ian a disdainful glance.

"It just feels like something's missing without it," Ian replied, blinking innocently.

"Pathetic," Snape scoffed. He reached into his robes and pulled out a crumpled letter, tossing it at Ian as though it were garbage.

Ian hastily caught it, his curiosity piqued.

The first thing that caught his eye was the prominent "H" emblazoned on the parchment, formed by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake. It was unmistakably the Hogwarts crest. Beneath it, the letter read:

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(International Confederation of Wizards President, Supreme Mugwump, Grand Sorcerer)

Dear Mr. Prince,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. The term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The letter was followed by a detailed list of required items. Ian skimmed through it quickly, grasping the essentials.

"Satisfied now, Mr. Fussbudget?" Snape's drawling voice interrupted Ian's thoughts. He had even taken the liberty of giving Ian a mocking nickname.

"I was hoping to see the Hogwarts owl delivering it," Ian muttered under his breath.

"Instead of indulging in pointless fantasies, focus on learning something useful. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to end up as aimless and pitiable as a Hufflepuff," Snape said with biting disdain.

At that moment, the clerk returned with an armful of books. Judging by his sullen expression, he'd overheard Snape's comment, which seemed to be directed at him as well.

"Thank you," Ian said quickly, flashing the clerk a sincere smile as he took the books. He didn't want to become collateral damage in Snape's war of insults.

The clerk leaned down and whispered, "Don't believe everything he says. Hufflepuff has produced many great wizards, like Newt Scamander, the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Being a Hufflepuff is an honor."

"I think so too," Ian whispered back, grinning. The clerk, clearly relieved, ruffled Ian's hair fondly.

"Fifteen Galleons," the cashier called out. Before Ian could respond, Snape had already pulled out a small pouch and paid.

"Is this a student loan, Professor?" Ian joked, still hoping to visit Gringotts.

"That is none of your concern," Snape replied curtly.

As Ian struggled to fit the books into his already overstuffed trunk, Snape waved his wand with a muttered spell.

"Reducio."

In an instant, Ian's clothes and other items shrank, creating ample space for the books.

"That's amazing!" Ian exclaimed, marveling at the magic.

"A word of caution," Snape said dryly. "The spell only lasts 24 hours. If you don't remove your items in time… well, let's just say it won't be pretty."

With that, Snape swept out of the store, his robes billowing dramatically. Ian hurried after him, marveling at how much lighter his trunk felt.

As they continued shopping for other essentials, Ian noted that Snape was footing the bill for everything. When they reached the cauldron shop, the clerk had already prepared the standard first-year set. But Snape insisted on upgrading Ian's cauldron to a more expensive brass model.

"Professor, the letter says we need a size 2 standard pewter cauldron," Ian pointed out hesitantly.

Snape's eyes narrowed, and his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Ah, it seems Mr. Prince believes he knows more than his Potions professor. How delightful."

Ian bit his tongue, unwilling to provoke Snape further. But his confusion deepened. Why was Snape going out of his way to provide such special treatment? Was it guilt? A debt he felt he owed?

Ian's mind was filled with unanswered questions.