Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

The thick mist around him peeled away, layer by layer, as if the very fabric of space was collapsing. Ian abruptly opened his eyes. He lay on his cramped little bed, his body stiff as he stretched uncomfortably. The pale moonlight outside streamed through the window, casting a silvery haze over the small room.

On the wall, a clock ticked away. The hands pointed to 12:07, and the second hand clicked forward relentlessly, marking the passage of time. The dream—so vivid and surreal—had lasted mere minutes in reality. Only seven minutes had passed.

"Whew," Ian exhaled deeply, wiping away imaginary sweat from his forehead. The disorientation wasn't physical but mental. His thoughts wandered to the events in the Limbo Realm. Instinctively, he glanced at the back of his hand and noticed a faint, white mark.

The small room was dimly lit, with only the moonlight offering visibility. Ian sat up and walked to his desk. Pulling open a drawer filled with various handmade tools, he retrieved a small flashlight. Switching it on, he illuminated his arm, inspecting the mark closely.

"What is this?" Ian murmured, intrigued by the gift from his friend. The faint mark shimmered briefly before fading entirely into his skin.

In the Limbo Realm, Ian could bring objects from reality into the Limbo—just as he had shared his chocolate with Ariana. Conversely, he could also bring items back from there into reality. But what purpose did this mark serve? Ian had no idea.

Curious, he decided to check his status panel:

[Name: Ian Prince

Profession: Bloodline Sorcerer

Magic Level: 4

Skills:

Linguistic Mastery (Level 3): 23/400

Biological Anatomy (Level 4): 796/800

Martial Arts (Level 3): 85/400

Psychology (Level 6): 42/3200

Traits:

Extraordinary Trait: Thought Perception]

He had been hopeful, but the panel displayed no mention of the mark. On reflection, it made sense. This gift, a token from a friend, wasn't something that would appear as a skill—just as his ability to visit the Limbo Realm didn't show up on the panel.

"Maybe the Hogwarts library will have answers," Ian thought. After all, it was said to be the most comprehensive repository of magical knowledge in the wizarding world. With this hope in mind, he absentmindedly touched the faint mark on his arm before heading back to bed.

Sleep claimed him almost instantly.

***

Morning arrived quickly. By the time the first rays of sunlight filtered into his room, Ian was already seated at his desk, immersed in a language book.

[Successfully read a French word. Linguistic Mastery +1.]

[Successfully read a Latin word. Linguistic Mastery +1.]

[Successfully read a Latin phrase. Linguistic Mastery +1.]

Exhaling deeply, Ian rubbed his temples. Learning languages wasn't easy. Each word required precise pronunciation, aided by phonetic annotations, and he had to commit every definition to memory. Still, his efforts were paying off.

[Linguistic Mastery (Level 3): 35/400 (+12)]

With a morning's work, he had gained 12 points. At this pace, reaching Level 5 and unlocking an extraordinary trait didn't seem too far off. With no spells to practice yet, Ian focused on practical skills. He couldn't help but wonder—what extraordinary trait would Linguistic Mastery unlock?

Fueled by curiosity and determination, Ian went about his day.

After lunch, Ian wheeled his familiar pushcart to his usual spot, setting up his fortune-telling stall. "Fortune-telling" might sound like a scam, but Ian preferred to call it reading people. His methods relied not on mysticism but on psychology—aided by his [Thought Perception trait] he has.

The tools on his table—tarot cards and other trinkets—were mostly for show. In truth, Ian observed his customers' mannerisms, attire, and speech patterns to deduce their concerns. Often, people weren't looking for the truth—they just wanted to hear what they needed.

As Ian called out to attract customers, a woman approached, curious enough to give it a try. He noted her outfit, her pauses in speech, and the slight tension in her expression. His observations were swift, precise.

"Madam, you've been under a lot of stress recently," Ian began, his tone calm yet confident.

The woman nodded, her composure unwavering. It wasn't a difficult guess.

"It's about school, isn't it?" Ian added.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, you're right."

Ian leaned forward slightly. "Your mentor has been causing trouble for you. Graduation is near, but they don't intend to make it easy for you."

The woman's jaw dropped in astonishment. After a moment, she regained her composure, her voice trembling slightly. "You're exactly right, young man. What should I do?"

[Successfully analyzed customer psychology. Psychology +1.]

Ian remained calm, his confidence unshaken. By now, the woman was fully in his grasp—psychologically speaking. Still, Ian had his principles.

"Madam, you might need to spend some money to smooth things over with your headmaster. But that's not all. If you carry a talisman, the Goddess of Luck might smile upon you."

The woman, thoroughly convinced, eyed the assortment of talismans Ian presented.

"How much for one? Can I buy them all?" she asked eagerly.

Ian was taken aback. Clearly, this was a wealthy customer.

"Of course," Ian said with a smile. "Each talisman is only five pounds."

He laid out twenty talismans on the table, their designs a mix of Western symbols and scribbled English words like "Luck."

"I'll take them all! Twenty times the luck!"

The woman handed him a crisp hundred-pound note, her excitement apparent. Ian couldn't help but grin. That single sale had netted him what amounted to two months' living expenses.

As the woman left, Ian packed up his stall, deciding to call it an early day. Pushing his cart past a nearby restaurant, he splurged on several hearty meals to bring back to the orphanage.

***

The children's eyes lit up when Ian returned with steaming pots of stew.

"Wow, Ian! What is that?" one of the younger kids exclaimed, their mouths practically watering.

Even the older children couldn't hide their excitement.

"Alright, everyone, grab some bowls—and don't forget to wipe your drool!" Ian teased, placing the pots on the table.

Laughter erupted as the children scrambled to find utensils. Soon, they were enjoying the meal with gusto, the dining hall filled with chatter and cheer.

"Ian, I envy you so much. Miss Elena said the headmaster himself invited you to attend that fancy school!" one of the older boys said, his voice tinged with admiration.

"I wish I could go too!" another chimed in.

Ian listened with a smile, occasionally responding, though his thoughts lingered on the Confundus Charm that had altered their perceptions.

Then, a small voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Ian, you're not going to a fancy school. You're going to Hogwarts—the school for wizards," a blonde-haired girl whispered, her tone conspiratorial.

Ian froze, his mind racing. He turned to face her, recognizing the eager glint in her eyes.

That night, as Ian helped in the orphanage kitchen, his thoughts returned to the girl's words and the faint mark on his hand. Suddenly, his status panel pinged:

[Congratulations! Biological Anatomy has leveled up.]

[Biological Anatomy (Level 5): 1/1600.]

A grin spread across Ian's face.

[Extraordinary Trait Unlocked!]