Hogwarts Raven

There were no surprises.

After returning to the Ravenclaw common room, Ian stashed the box securely in his trunk and cast a Concealment Charm over it. He ended up missing the entire Hogwarts dinner hour.

The wind howled outside the castle.

Ian was not the sort of young wizard who would willingly go hungry. The kitchens beneath the Great Hall could easily solve that problem, but instead, he took a detour to the castle's lower levels.

'Knock, Knock!'

Ian knockedon the door after reaching his destination.

But there was no response from the inside.

"It's me, Professor Snape. Ian," he called. "The one you personally awarded first place in today's Potions lesson."

'Click.'

A moment later, the door creaked open and a disheveled Severus Snape stood in the doorway, his face unreadable.

Behind him, the room was as untidy as his appearance— arched shelves lined the curved walls, brimming with glass jars of dubious substances. The space resembled a cavernous lair, fitting for the Potions Master of Hogwarts.

"Mr. Prince, curfew is approaching," Snape drawled. "If you don't want to be caught and given detention, you should be in your Ravenclaw common room now." He stressed 'Ravenclaw' with a note of dry derision, his voice carrying a hint of lingering resentment.

"Would detention teach me something beyond the standard curriculum?" Ian asked, tilting his head, green eyes alight with anticipation.

Snape's eye twitched. "If you cannot correct your attitude toward Potions, you will never learn anything worthwhile from me."

His voice remained cold as ever.

"Then allow me to apologize and adjust my attitude." Sensing an opportunity hidden in Snape's words, Ian immediately straightened, then bent into a perfect ninety-degree bow, maintaining the position in absolute silence.

A display of 'dedication to the craft.'

Snape's expression twisted oddly, his mouth opening as if to deliver a biting remark— only to close again. He scrutinized Ian, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

"If this is the purpose of your visit…" Snape finally turned and strode into the room. He pulled open a drawer in his desk and retrieved an aged, black-bound book.

"Take it. And leave." He tossed the book at Ian, his tone clipped and stiff.

"This book was originally intended for a different recipient, but since you've wormed your way into possession of it through sheer audacity, you'll face a separate examination at the end of term."

"If you fail to impress me… hmph." He left the implication hanging, his voice laced with ominous intent. But Ian did not react as Snape had perhaps expected.

"Who is a Half-Blood Prince?" Ian asked, catching 'Advanced Potion-Making' mid-air. His gaze fell upon a small inscription on the back cover.

Was this the same book Harry Potter had found?

Ian's deliberately innocent question made Snape's face darken with unmistakable irritation.

"That's 'the' Half-Blood Prince, you fool!"

Snape stormed forward, snatched the book from Ian's grasp, and, with a flick of his quill, aggressively scratched out the offending words.

"I thought you had more wit than your insufferable father!" He scrutinized the cover one last time before practically shoving the book back at Ian.

"It belonged to my father?" Ian feigned curiosity, watching Snape's reaction closely.

He had long suspected a connection between them, but this… this was unexpected.

So that's how it is.

Indeed… that's how it is.

The speculation he had harbored was now confirmed. Before, it had been mere conjecture, nothing more than shadows on the wall.

"'Tsk tsk,' your father's intellect was as dense as a troll's— strictly confined to the syllabus, just like you," Snape sneered, clearly underestimating Ian's knowledge. He slipped in the insult without the slightest hesitation.

"Then, Professor, didn't you just obliterate a Master's signature?" Ian countered smoothly.

Snape hesitated. His mocking expression faltered ever so slightly.

"I surpass him," Snape muttered curtly. "That gives me the right."

This was a rather flimsy justification.

But Ian merely nodded, pretending to accept it.

"If you spent more time in the library rather than meddling with the creation of hazardous objects alongside 'certain' students, you might begin to understand the legacy of your lineage." Snape's sarcasm returned, though there was a peculiar note in his voice— disappointment?

"I borrowed 'A Brief History of Hogwarts,' but I haven't read it yet," Ian remarked, reading between the lines of Snape's words. One thing was clear now: Snape was 'not' his father.

"Are there any living members of my family?"

His quiet question made Snape's expression falter, if only for a fraction of a second.

"If there were," Snape said, voice slightly stiff, "do you think you'd have ended up in an orphanage?"

"Who did it?"

Ian had no memory of his parents, but that didn't mean he could overlook their fate. Someone was responsible.

"Do what you must. Learn what you must." Snape refused to answer, moving to usher Ian toward the door.

"Wait."

Ian stepped forward, blocking the door's closure.

"I've already answered enough of your questions. What more do you want, 'Mr. Trouble?'" Snape's gaze bore down icily.

"I actually came to return your money." Ian pulled a pouch of Galleons from his pocket and, under Snape's narrowed gaze, pressed it into his hands.

"You sold the Felix Felicis?" Snape's tone sharpened. The only explanation Snape could think of for such a large sum was that Ian had sold the potion. He thought selling Felix Felicis was exactly the kind of thing Ian would do..

Even after Ian shook his head, Snape's suspicion did not wane.

"I'm not that stupid." To avoid Snape's resentment, Ian had no choice but to show the inside of his pockets and the small hidden compartments in his robes. 

There were still quite a few gold coins glowing inside, thanks to Winky. 

"I found a secret treasure in Hogwarts and achieved positive growth in personal wealth." Ian lowered his voice, and Snape inside the door looked utterly incredulous. 

"Hidden treasure in Hogwarts?" Snape's skepticism was evident.

How had he not known about this?

"I'll look into it," Snape muttered darkly. "If I find out you've resorted to theft or extorted gold through magic, I'll personally see you escorted to Azkaban. Where you 'belong.'"

"You don't appreciate the art of medieval treasure-hunting, do you?" Ian sighed theatrically.

Snape's glare intensified.

"It 'better' be true."

Snape attempted to shove the gold back at Ian, but the boy swiftly dodged.

Snape sneered, tossing the pouch onto the floor instead. "Do you think I care for this paltry sum?"

The arrogance of a Potions Master— wealth meant nothing to him. But Ian already knew how to handle someone like Snape.

"Do you think a few Galleons can buy me favor? Dream on." He nudged the pouch back toward Snape's office with the tip of his boot.

A vein pulsed at Snape's temple.

"'OUT!'"

The door slammed shut with a resounding 'BANG.'

A few seconds later.

The door opened a crack— just wide enough for 'Advanced Potion-Making' to be hurled out.

Another 'BANG!' The door closed even harder.

"A Potions family, huh…"

Ian bent down, brushing dust from the book's worn cover. He stared at the spot where Snape had obliterated the name.

"Was my family's massacre Voldemort's doing, or…?"

His only remaining uncle.

The empty corridor held no answers.

(End of chapter)

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