Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

Daphne's joy was gone.

Snape's famous tirade against latecomers was also gone.

Ian's spirits visibly dipped.

"What's wrong?"

Aurora noticed how the person sitting beside her seemed deflated. Ian let out a heavy sigh, eyes fixed gloomily on Snape, who had just stepped up to the podium.

"I've lost all of today's happiness."

He had even brought a gift for Daphne Greengrass, only to find she was still holed up from her shock—or maybe, being a clever pureblood, she'd predicted he might come for her?

"I see. You were kissed by a Dementor."

Aurora calmly set out her course materials. On her pristine new textbook, Ian spotted a host of detailed annotations.

Noting this, Ian turned:

"You've got the deluxe edition, I see!"

He caught sight of notes clearly from some master potioneer among a "Saints" group, prompting a soft, awed exclamation.

"Duplicate as Pair!"

Aurora waved her wand at her textbook, producing an identical copy. Sliding it over to Ian:

"It'll last just one lesson. Next Potions class, we'll share again,"

she remarked, her cool voice hinting at a careful calculation.

"I'm definitely not jealous,"

Ian replied, hastily flipping through the annotated pages. By tomorrow night, he'd enter the Mysterious Realm again, hoping to see how Professor Mara's new potions research was going.

****

"Excellent. It appears you all appreciate the value of punctuality—vital in potion-making,"

Snape began, addressing the class from the front.

"Potion-brewing is a rigorous craft. Some may dismiss it as non-magical, but few grasp the wonder of a cauldron simmering gently over low flames, emitting a real, delicate aroma—and fewer still appreciate the raw magic flowing into the bloodstream once the brew is consumed."

His dark, brooding eyes swept over the assembled first-years.

He paused briefly.

All the while, Ian was chatting quietly with a friend.

"He's about to boast,"

Ian murmured.

Sure enough:

"I can teach you to boost your reputation, garner glory, even—"

Here, Snape deliberately paused, enunciating his final words:

"Stop death itself!"

Hence, Ian got to witness a memorable scene anyway—his eyes lit with renewed delight.

"Snape can't do it. He's copying an old script. Next, he'll call us dunderheads,"

Ian muttered, prompting Aurora to blink in surprise.

And exactly as he predicted:

"Yes, I can teach you all manner of things, provided you aren't the usual bunch of dunderheads and dolts I typically find."

Snape's timing was flawless, finishing his signature line. Since Ian and Aurora were seated a bit further back, their quiet talk went unnoticed; Snape saw only that Ian was murmuring to Miss Grindelwald but chose to ignore it.

****

"How'd you know? Do you have the Sight, too?"

Aurora asked in wonder, bright heterochromatic eyes reflecting curiosity.

"Huh?"

Ian blinked.

"What do you mean by 'too'?"

He caught the key word.

"My family carries such a gift—we can glimpse events before they happen. I already foresaw that little performance when I walked in,"

Aurora explained with minimal secrecy, indicating her eyes.

"So, your grandfather had it as well?"

Ian was startled. He knew little of Grindelwald's background, though he recalled that before his transmigration, there'd been a film about Grindelwald in production.

"Even more powerful than mine,"

Aurora said gravely.

"Oh…"

Ian hesitated, then gently asked,

"If I may—did he foresee how things would end for him?"

Aurora's expression remained steady:

"His followers still believe that both the past and present result from my grandfather's choice, a step toward achieving something greater."

She offered no direct answer.

"I see… Faith can be terrifying,"

Ian said softly.

"Indeed,"

Aurora nodded.

****

"Now, pair up for Boil-Cure Potion. Work carefully—unless you plan to join Miss Daphne. I strongly advise caution."

Snape closed his book, moving them on to practical tasks. Casting a sidelong glance at Ian and Aurora—still whispering—he then shifted his gaze to the Slytherin side.

"Michael Jordan, get back to your own House."

He sounded in need of a target to vent his pent-up frustration upon, and that "target" happened to be the black wizard who was lingering in Slytherin territory.

Two "limited skins" crowding the same corner was simply too conspicuous.

"Huh?"

Michael looked crestfallen, turning to glance at the Ravenclaw side—in other words, where Ian sat—wearing an aggrieved expression.

"I won't repeat myself."

Snape's tone was formidable.

"Yes, Professor,"

murmured Michael, shrinking away. Gathering his things, he slunk to a corner—where William was also hiding, alone.

****

"Go grab the ingredients, quick, before they get snatched,"

Ian suggested to Aurora while fiddling with his gleaming gold cauldron.

"Right,"

she answered, heading for the cupboards.

All around, students were picking out supplies. Notably, Snape skipped hurling any insults or deducting points; he merely patrolled. Eventually, he halted by Ian and Aurora.

By then, Aurora had fetched their potion ingredients with impressive speed—someone on the Slytherin side had even offered her the needed items.

"Mr. Prince, why haven't you started?"

Snape asked coldly, seeing that Ian's cauldron was still empty.

"We're dividing duties, Professor."

Ian answered earnestly.

"…"

Snape glowered a moment at Aurora's busy hands, clenched his jaw, and strode off.

Still,

he couldn't help glancing their way now and then—and soon found cause to grind his teeth again:

Aurora finished grinding snake fangs—

Ian lit the fire.

Aurora took care of the horned slugs—

Ian kept stoking the flames.

Aurora added porcupine quills and stirred—

Ian watched the fire.

After five stirs, they were done…

Ian extinguished the flames.

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