Hogwarts Raven (Harry Potter)

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He wasn't being stingy; he simply believed that Harry, for all his fame and potential, shouldn't be led down a dangerous path.

The wizarding world already had enough chaos without inviting more.

"I see… well, alright then…" Harry sighed, his voice low. As a Slytherin, he had already heard whispers among his Housemates about Ian's questionable methods.

Upon reflection, Harry realised that, unlike certain others, he didn't have the background or family name to afford brewing illegal potions. It simply wasn't a risk someone like him could afford to take. After all, the privileges of being a well-connected half-blood with ancient wizarding lineage and seven surnames weren't something a mere Potter could rival.

Children without parents grow up quickly.

Harry Potter knew perfectly well that surviving in the wizarding world required more than luck. Power and connections were everything. Just because others could get away with things didn't mean he could.

"Could I… buy a few extra bottles with gold galleons?" He asked hesitantly. After thinking it over, he had to admit that, compared to brewing something dangerous and illegal, simply purchasing the potion sounded far safer.

He might lack affection in his life, but he certainly didn't lack galleons.

"This isn't about money, Harry," Ian said firmly. "It's that you might need to see Dumbledore. Treating the symptoms won't solve the root of the problem. There's something deeper going on here, and we need to address it properly."

It was rare for Ian to turn down gold galleons, but he wasn't a fool.

From the look of Harry's current condition, Ian suspected that recent events had gone well beyond whatever future knowledge he possessed. Perhaps the early destruction of several Horcruxes had caused a butterfly effect, unraveling pieces of prophecy too soon.

"What sort of hidden dangers?" Harry asked, growing uneasy. "Do I really need to see the Headmaster? Is it that serious?"

"Do you remember the things you were shouting earlier?" Ian didn't want to reveal too much. Telling Harry outright that he himself was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes might do more harm than good.

Instead, he focused on the screams and whisperings Harry had uttered.

"Er… not really…" Harry replied, brow furrowed. His green eyes held only confusion now, no trace of the serpentine madness from earlier. He raised a shaky hand to his bleeding forehead, trying to piece together the fragments.

"I think… I saw something. Someone. A prisoner, I think, with chains around his neck. I couldn't see his face properly, but… his eyes. They were mad. Cold. Like he didn't even remember what it meant to feel anything."

His voice grew tense as the memory surfaced.

Suddenly, his body began to tremble violently. Panic lit up his face as though the vision had returned.

"No, he's getting closer to me! He's going to rip me apart!"

His eyes flickered then, no longer round, but not yet slitted. They shimmered like a flickering candle just before it's snuffed out, one last pulse before fading to black. It had to be said that Ian's potion had been exceedingly well-made, crafted precisely for this kind of possession.

"All right, all right, stop thinking about it," Ian said quickly, seeing Harry's pale face twist in terror. The boy's limbs were jerking again, the memory dragging him back into some inner nightmare.

"Oh," Harry replied faintly.

But no sooner had he nodded than his eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed right in front of Ian, completely unconscious.

"…"

Thankfully, Ian was just fast enough to catch Harry's head with the side of his foot before it thudded against the stone floor.

"I didn't mean that you should stop thinking entirely," Ian muttered in frustration.

He glanced at the wall clock. Roughly twenty minutes until the next class.

"Wake up?" He tried, lightly slapping Harry's cheeks twice but there was no response.

With a resigned sigh, Ian drew his wand and cast a Levitation Charm, lifting the boy's limp form off the floor. He stretched out his long legs and headed toward the infirmary, leaving behind the secluded corner where they'd spoken.

Outside, the corridors had begun to bustle with students preparing for class. As Ian passed through the crowd with Harry floating beside him, many young witches and wizards stopped in their tracks, staring at the spectacle with expressions of open shock.

But there was little to be done.

Harry's face, still streaked with fresh blood from where he'd clawed at himself, made quite the impression.

As they walked, drops of blood spattered the floor, dark and wet against the stone.

It looked deeply unsettling, almost gruesome.

"Isn't that the Boy Who Lived?"

"Why does he look like he's been trampled by a hippogriff? What happened to him?"

"Hiss, are you all thick? Just look at who's carrying Harry Potter. That's the new lad everyone's whispering about, walking like he owns the place. He's probably sent some message from the Dark Lord himself, showing off his power…"

...

Naturally, such gossip among students was inevitable.

But for certain comments Ian had absolutely no interest in hearing, he casually lifted his wand and cast a swift Langlock Curse, silencing a few of the more vocal rumour-spreaders and leaving them mouthing like fish.

"I'm simply helping a fellow schoolmate!" He announced with a perfectly straight face. Some students nodded quickly, out of politeness or sheer self-preservation, while others looked unsure, casting glances between Harry's limp form and Ian's composed expression.

"…"

Ian ignored the theatrics entirely.

He strode straight to the hospital wing with Harry Potter floating behind him.

"Heavens! Merlin above! What on earth has happened here?"

The moment they entered, the curtains around the beds swayed despite the still air. Madam Pomfrey, who had been hovering over a cauldron while stirring a brew with expert flicks of her wand, turned at once to the pair.

"I'm not entirely certain, to be honest," Ian said with a light shrug, passing Harry's levitating form into her care.

"It looks like a case of extreme magical strain."

His tone was calm, but his words held weight. Madam Pomfrey moved quickly, her wand already circling over Harry as she cast diagnostic charms. Her expression tightened with concern, and she gave a nod of reluctant agreement to Ian's conclusion.

A couple of younger healers-in-training nearby murmured suggestions.

"Maybe a Mental Stability Draught would help," One offered thoughtfully, scanning Harry's pale face.

"Possibly, but a Soul Stabiliser might be more effective, especially if something dark latched onto him," another said, clearly having a better grasp on the severity of the boy's condition.

"Valid points," Madam Pomfrey said, settling Harry gently onto the nearest bed and tilting a vial to his lips. Then she looked up at Ian with a raised eyebrow and a tone that was half-inquiry, half-accusation.

"But what he really needs is a three-in-one blend that'll keep him well away from dangerous situations. Mr Prince, would you care to explain why Mr Potter's magical signature is nearly extinguished, as if he's been kissed by a Dementor?"

Clearly, she'd detected the effects of a powerful magic-dampening potion.

"It was to stop him from bursting like a rogue wand-core," Ian replied, hands raised in a gesture of helpless honesty. He didn't feel it was wise to discuss Horcruxes or Voldemort's soul fragments with the school nurse, however competent she might be.

"Unstable magic, then?"

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey filled in the blanks herself, frowning as she glanced at the readings hovering in midair above Harry's chest.

(To Be Continued…)