Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

Ian's sudden arrival clearly disrupted the witch's meal. Not only had her table and utensils fled the scene, but even the food on her plates had scampered away. The grand, palace-like hall, glowing with an almost divine brilliance, was now eerily bare. Even the ornate chandelier that had hung from the ceiling had disappeared. The knife and fork she had been holding moments before sprouted wings and fluttered off into the distance.

"S-Sorry," Ian stammered, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

As Ian's eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar scene, he recognized the witch seated not far away. It was the mysterious woman he had encountered in the village—the same one who had invited him to something he couldn't quite fathom at the time. She still wore her elegant black dress, a garment so refined and imposing it seemed woven from the very fabric of the night itself. A quiet aura of mystery and depth surrounded her, making her seem untouchable yet undeniably compelling.

"Although your entrance was rather rude, I'll forgive the interruption," the witch said, her voice as smooth as velvet. "After all, it was I who extended the invitation. There's no need to feel too apologetic."

With a flick of her wrist, a napkin materialized in her hand. She dabbed her crimson lips with an elegance so effortless it spoke to an inherent nobility. This wasn't a pretense—it was a grace that seemed etched into her very being, cultivated over a lifetime of refinement.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your meal," Ian replied, still somewhat dazed. He wanted to clarify that he hadn't even decided whether to accept her invitation. However, he realized that voicing such thoughts might come across as rude.

The witch chuckled softly. "Souls in the Limbo Realm have no need for sustenance. I partake merely out of habit from my mortal days. Those fleeing plates and cutlery? They bring me no joy, I assure you."

Her casual words sent a shiver down Ian's spine. Her amusement at the situation only heightened his tension, his unease creeping into every corner of his mind. Food didn't bring her joy? What, then, did?

Could it be... toying with innocent boys?

The witch's gaze wasn't exactly piercing, but it held an unsettling weight. Ian felt as though a swarm of ants was crawling over his skin, leaving him awkward and fidgety as he stood frozen in place. Thankfully, the witch broke the silence before it grew unbearable.

"It seems you have embarked on the path of magic," she observed.

Ian was caught off guard. He hadn't brought his wand into this realm, yet her words carried the certainty of someone who saw far beyond surface appearances.

"Yes, madame," he admitted, nodding cautiously. Her gaze felt as penetrating as Dumbledore's, if not more so. This wasn't a truth he could hide—and something deep within him warned against attempting to deceive her. His instinct, sharpened by his Mind Perception trait, urged honesty.

The witch's lips curled upward in satisfaction. "You should address me as... Teacher."

Her tone was firm but not unkind. Whether she truly misunderstood Ian's intentions or was simply playing a game, he couldn't be sure. Her correction left no room for argument.

"I... I..." Ian hesitated before speaking. "Honestly, I don't know why I'm here. Usually, I find myself on the grassy field outside the village."

He paused, unsure how much he should reveal. Yet, his living status wasn't exactly a secret. Both Ariana and Pandero had instantly recognized him as a living soul, and this witch was undoubtedly sharp enough to do the same.

The witch tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. "And?"

Ian took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "I've been considering studying magic under you, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I came here tonight just to see if my friend has returned."

He tried to force a simple, harmless smile, though his gut screamed that this woman wasn't a benevolent white witch. With only a handful of beginner spells in his arsenal, Ian knew better than to provoke her.

"They haven't returned. Only three days have passed since your last visit," the witch replied, resting her chin delicately on one hand while her other tapped idly on the armrest of her golden chair. Her voice carried a languid elegance as she continued, "The Limbo Realm is a peculiar place. It responds to the deepest desires and obsessions of those who enter it. That's why your destination changed."

Her explanation only deepened Ian's confusion.

"Uh, sorry, but I still don't get it," he admitted, furrowing his brow.

The witch's perfectly arched brow twitched, and she sighed in mock exasperation. "What a slow little piglet. Never did I imagine my eventual pupil would be so... sluggish."

Though her tone lacked Snape's venomous bite, her pride was far more pronounced. Every word and gesture radiated an air of superiority, not in an overbearing way, but in a manner that made her station unmistakably clear.

Ian, recalling his hard-won experience with Snape, decided on a simple counter. "Then should I leave?"

His question hung in the air, deceptively innocent yet pointed enough to provoke. For a brief moment, the witch's composed demeanor cracked. Her eyes twitched slightly—a response all too reminiscent of Snape's when Ian managed to outwit him.

"You cheeky little rascal," she muttered, shaking her head in bemusement.

Her gaze softened, though her words remained deliberate. "In the past, you longed for companionship. Now, you yearn for mastery of magic."

Her statement struck Ian like a thunderclap. It aligned perfectly with his current situation, yet he couldn't fathom how she had deduced so much.

"Why does a desire to learn magic bring me here?" he asked, voicing the question that gnawed at him.

The witch leaned forward slightly, her presence commanding yet calm. "Because, deep down, you know I can teach you magic far beyond what Hogwarts would dare. Here, you can gain the power to face the dangers looming over you."

Ian froze. Her words resonated deeply, yet he hadn't spoken his thoughts aloud.

"Can you read minds?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion. For the first time, he felt a glimmer of understanding for Snape's constant irritation.

The witch chuckled, her laughter a melody of amusement. "Mind-reading? No, that's hardly difficult magic. But in the Limbo Realm, I no longer possess the powers I held in life. My magic has faded here, just as yours would."

Her smile deepened, equal parts mysterious and sincere. "I simply observe, my dear boy."