Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

Night descended gracefully, enveloping the world.

Gentle moonlight filtered through the window, casting its soft glow over the quiet bedroom. Ian's long lashes fluttered as he slowly opened his eyes. His brilliant green irises, gleaming like gemstones, adjusted to the dim light.

From disorientation to focus, he reoriented himself to reality and instinctively turned to the clock on his bedroom wall. As always, the antique clock's hands pointed to 12:07.

It was no surprise.

Every time Ian returned from the Limbo Realm, the clock displayed the same enchanted number. While the hour hand varied, the minutes always settled at seven. That number held a strange, magical significance Ian couldn't yet decipher.

For years now, this peculiar phenomenon had defined his life. Once every week, he would experience this recurring journey—an exploration of a realm beyond comprehension.

In the past, Ian's encounters in the Limbo Realm were limited to Ariana and the occasionally present Pandero. This time, however, he had met someone new—a mysterious and regal witch of unknown origin.

"She wants me to find her mirror… something she left behind in the mortal world," Ian muttered to himself.

The witch's intentions remained shrouded in mystery. Ian couldn't judge her as good or evil—perhaps such labels were too simplistic for a soul as complex as hers. What intrigued him most was her identity.

A witch living in a grand, isolated castle within the Limbo Realm… was she once a prominent figure in the wizarding world? Her noble demeanor suggested she was no ordinary sorceress.

Was she a wizard of the last century? Or perhaps an influential presence during the Middle Ages?

Ian's knowledge of this fantastical world was embarrassingly limited, cobbled together from a few unimpressive movies and a handful of fanfiction rife with conspiracy theories.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder if the mirror she sought was connected to one he knew—the Mirror of Erised. The fabled artifact, with its golden frame, was said to reveal a person's deepest, most fervent desires. If the witch was its previous owner, then her request carried a profound significance.

"But can I even bring such a large object into the Limbo Realm?" Ian pondered, uncertain. He had only ever brought small items, like candy, into the dreamlike dimension.

The exact mechanics of his unique ability remained a mystery to him. Why could he bring certain objects, yet leave others behind? The rules of his gift were as elusive as the realm itself.

The witch had called Ian special, though she hadn't explained what that meant. Whatever the reason, Ian sensed she knew more about him than she had let on. Perhaps she alone could unravel the mysteries surrounding his abilities.

But at what cost?

"Learning magic from her…"

The proposition was tempting. Yet Ian couldn't ignore the risks. The witch's kindness could easily mask hidden motives, and her interest in him might be tied to something more sinister.

If she truly was the former owner of the Mirror of Erised, she was likely an ancient spirit. And ancient spirits—especially cunning ones—were far more unpredictable than the living.

"She's still a beautiful witch," Ian muttered, recalling her ethereal elegance. "But beautiful ghosts are just as dangerous as living ones."

He chuckled dryly, shaking his head.

"No, I'm not taking that risk. Magic can be learned at Hogwarts. The professors there might not be as powerful as the witch, but they're safer."

Ian's rationality triumphed over greed.

Like the wisdom passed down by ancestors, his decision was shaped by caution—an instinct honed by the peculiar traditions of Britain, where both quirky customs and an enduring fondness for peculiar dangers thrived.

What if she really is the kind who toys with little boys?

Or worse, what if her idea of "toying" was entirely different from his?

"I can't take that gamble," he muttered, clasping his hands together. "Merlin bless me with clarity… this is a risk I can't afford."

Having weighed the pros and cons, Ian fluffed his pillow and settled back into bed, letting sleep claim him once more. For now, he would let the dream realm remain undisturbed.

Ian woke feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day. There was a lightness in his step, a confidence in his demeanor that hadn't been there before. Whatever dreams he'd conjured during the night had clearly done wonders for his mood.

By sunrise, Ian was already at his desk, diligently improving his skills.

[Linguistics Mastery +1]

[Linguistics Mastery +1]

[Linguistics Mastery +1]

Ian worked through pages of Latin and Roman texts, memorizing and practicing with unwavering focus. For him, this skill wasn't just academic; it held the promise of unlocking something extraordinary.

He dreamed of mastering a rare magical gift—the ability to communicate with animals. Even if he couldn't achieve something as profound as Parseltongue, being able to understand creatures like Newt Scamander did would be enough.

"Of course, if I could hear the voices of all living things, I wouldn't mind that either," he thought, grinning to himself. His imagination ran wild as he recalled the books and shows that had shaped his childhood.

[Linguistic Mastery +1]

[Linguistic Mastery +1]

Just as Ian was about to dive deeper into his studies, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. The clattering of objects followed, accompanied by a chorus of voices.

"Ian! Ian! He's here!"

It was Catherine, her voice filled with excitement and urgency. She banged on the door, joined by the frantic tapping of several smaller hands.

"What's going on?" Ian asked, rising to open the door.

The moment he turned the knob, a group of children tumbled into his room, chattering excitedly.

"Ian! Miss Elena wants you in her office! Is it true you're leaving for school?"

"Will you come back to visit?"

"Can you bring us a teacher? Or maybe just some candy?"

The children's enthusiasm was infectious, though some of their comments bordered on cheeky. Catherine, the only one privy to the truth about Hogwarts, looked up at Ian with shining eyes.

"Will you come back to teach us magic?" she asked earnestly.

Ian hesitated.

"If I can," he said gently, ruffling her hair. "If I have the chance, I'll do my best."

Satisfied with his response, Catherine grabbed his hand and led him toward the office. A flock of children trailed behind them, their laughter filling the hallways.

"Ian, I don't want to go to that school. Just bring back some candy for me. Oh, and by the way, the teacher who's here now… he looks like that creepy wizard you told me about—Gargamel."

Her hushed words sent a chill down Ian's spine.

Gargamel? That description didn't bode well.

As they approached the office, Ian's heart sank. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, he caught sight of a figure cloaked in shadows.

The oppressive aura radiating from the person was unmistakable. Ian's stomach churned as recognition dawned.

"Why him?" he whispered, his face paling.

Where was his kindly, bearded Dumbledore? Instead, sitting opposite the headmistress was a familiar figure shrouded in darkness.

Snape.