The weather was a bit cold.
Ian glanced back at the gradually closing door, then looked up at the faded lettering of "Ollivander's Wand Shop." He felt as if he had discovered the greatest scam in the magical world.
"Truly cunning villains," Ian muttered, criticizing Ollivander. He even suspected that Voldemort's army of followers wasn't solely the result of the Imperius Curse.
Surely, Ollivander shared some of the blame.
Think about it.
If, when you were ten, a fortune teller told you that you were destined to become a great general—and then you happened to meet Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar when you grew up—who could resist that?
Most people would probably mistake tragedy for destiny.
"I've found the root cause of the magical world's chaos!"
Ian believed that with this discovery, he could write an excellent paper—if only Hogwarts had a journal to publish such clever insights.
"Maybe I should try the Daily Prophet. The pay for such a famous newspaper must be decent."
He pondered this while scanning the crowd for Snape.
The unreliable professor hadn't abandoned him. Ian spotted Snape standing outside a nearby shop and quickly hurried over.
"Professor! I've discovered a shocking secret!"
Ian thought that if he could include a Hogwarts professor in his article, the chances of getting published—and perhaps even earning some money—would be much higher.
"Mr. Prince, I have no interest in your childish and foolish ideas. You should focus on choosing a pet to assist with your studies."
Snape glanced coldly at the wand poking out of Ian's pocket.
Then he knocked on the glass window of the shop in front of him. Only then did Ian realize it was a pet store. Inside were cages full of cats, toads, owls, lizards, and rats—some of them even had magical bloodlines.
None of them appealed to Ian.
Admittedly, he had a soft spot for owls.
But Hogwarts already had plenty of owls. Ian figured that petting them for free was a better deal than spending money and taking care of one himself.
In comparison, Ian wanted something special.
"Professor, can I choose the pet I want?" he asked tentatively.
"Hmph," Snape grunted.
"Then… can I have a phoenix?" Ian blinked innocently.
Lions—well, lions at least knew their limits, so that was out of the question.
Snape's eyes twitched at Ian's outrageous request.
"Are you sure you haven't drunk too much Calming Draught and lost your senses?"
Snape was genuinely shocked. He had never seen someone so shameless.
A phoenix?
I want one too! Who's going to give it to me?!
"A bird with phoenix blood is fine too. That wand shop uses phoenix feathers to make wands," Ian added, clearly implying that phoenixes must be common.
It was natural for a child raised in a Muggle orphanage to think so. But Ian really wanted one.
How cool would that be?
"Apart from the Dumbledore family, no wizard in this century has earned a phoenix's favor. I suggest you let go of such delusions."
Snape rolled his eyes.
He continued dryly, "Of course, maybe Mr. Prince has enough influence to convince Dumbledore to give you his phoenix."
Obviously, he was mocking Ian.
"Why don't you speak to him for me, Professor? Dumbledore would definitely listen to you!"
It wasn't shamelessness—it was strategy. Ian had figured out how to deal with Snape.
Sure enough, with just that one sentence, Snape was speechless.
"You sharp-tongued brat!"
He finally glared at Ian.
"If your brain were any better than a troll's, you'd stop fantasizing and pick a cat or a rat. They're your best partners in potion experiments."
He was clearly suppressing his anger as he offered that advice.
But to most people, that didn't sound like a pet—it sounded like a test subject.
"You mean test subjects, not pets," Ian sighed.
"Is there a difference?"
Snape sneered. "Maybe you'll end up in Gryffindor. Only those sentimental fools care about love and sympathy for animals."
A classic jab at his least favorite house.
Ian ignored it.
"Forget it. I've spent enough today. I don't want a pet. I can't even take care of myself." Ian leaned against the glass, watching the animals.
None of them appealed to him.
He had the soul of an adult.
Naturally, his idea of a pet was different.
"This is your choice," Snape said with a shrug.
He flicked his robe and turned to leave.
"Since I can't have a phoenix, can I raise a snake?" Ian quickly followed, dragging his suitcase. Snape had been helping with that all along.
"First-years aren't allowed to keep dangerous pets." Snape slowed his pace, glancing at Ian with his usual contemptuous squint.
"Didn't you say you gave up? Changing your mind already? Too bad—you missed your chance."
The corners of Snape's mouth curled ever so slightly. His usually blank expression stirred with amusement.
"No, I mean in second or third year." Ian wasn't sure if Harry Potter was in the same year as him. He wanted to wait for the right time—and the right pet.
Yes.
Ian wanted to raise a basilisk.
Now that's a proper pet for someone with an adult soul.
Big is best.
"Heh. So it's not that Mr. Prince doesn't want a pet—it's that he thinks none of these pets are worthy of him. I hope you don't regret this foolish decision."
Snape's tone turned cold again.
"Don't say I didn't warn you. Even a pet with a trace of magical blood costs more than a young wizard like you can afford."
He gave Ian a knowing look.
"Thanks for the reminder, Professor."
Ian nodded, expression calm—far from the embarrassment Snape expected.
That made Snape frown slightly.
Ian, meanwhile, looked around the magical shops without a care.
"Get ready," Snape said suddenly.
Before Ian could ask what for, Snape grabbed the back of his neck.
In the next moment, Ian felt dizzy.
Apparition.
Unlike before, when he felt nothing, this time he felt slightly nauseous.
Maybe the potion's effects were wearing off.
Just as his thoughts were drifting…
Whirr—
Suddenly, his vision cleared.
The bustling Diagon Alley had disappeared, replaced by a peaceful village.
The sound of a flowing stream mingled with distant owl calls, and the air was sweet with the scent of magical treats.
This was Hogsmeade Village—nestled in the Scottish Highlands.
"You'll stay here until school starts," Snape said, leading Ian to a quiet cottage.
Before Ian could even ask, Snape tossed him a key and the rest of the Galleons.
"If I catch you sneaking off again, you won't like the consequences."
And with that, he turned and left.
His stride was quick, almost hurried.
Did he forget to turn off the burner under a precious potion before leaving?
"Wait, did he just tell me not to run off again?"
Ian noticed something unusual in Snape's words.
But looking at the textbooks in his suitcase, Ian's mind was already somewhere else.
He had one goal now:
To become a real wizard.
Everything else could wait.
"Magic… here I come!"
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