Chapter 32: A Web of Lies! Snape’s Fury!

The curtains were drawn tightly shut.

Torn oilcloth and scattered corpses littered the room. If Severus Snape hadn't known this was one of his own unused properties, he would have assumed he'd stepped into a dark wizard's lair.

"So, let me get this straight. You were walking down the street, minding your own business, when you just so happened to bump into a dark wizard. And this dark wizard, in his infinite clumsiness, conveniently dropped a piece of parchment."

"And this parchment, by sheer coincidence, contained instructions for a dark spell. Yet somehow, you—who claim to have had no knowledge of what it was—accidentally learned the spell out of curiosity?"

Snape's piercing black eyes locked onto Ian. His expression was as sour as crumpled parchment, his brow furrowed so deeply it looked like it might never smooth out.

"Yes, that's exactly what happened."

Ian nodded his head vigorously, like a bobblehead toy.

"Professor, I'm innocent. I'm the victim here! My poor, fragile heart was so terrified last night that I couldn't sleep a wink!"

His emerald-green eyes widened in an attempt to appear as pitiful as possible.

Of course, his story was only half true.

Even if he wasn't a native-born wizard, Ian knew that books like Advanced Dark Magic: A Comprehensive Study were basically the magical equivalent of highly illegal cult material.

Could he claim that Aurora had given it to him?

Even if that got him off the hook, the book would be confiscated in an instant, and worse, he'd probably face an investigation for possessing Advanced Dark Magic: A Comprehensive Study in the first place.

After all, Aurora had a grandfather named Gellert Grindelwald.

She could get away with owning it under family legacy.

Ian? He'd be branded as Voldemort 2.0.

"I had no idea this place was once a burial site, Professor! You have no idea how horrifying it was when those corpses started crawling out from beneath the floorboards—I nearly died of fright!"

Ian exaggerated his distress, doing his best to seem like nothing more than an unfortunate victim.

Unfortunately for him, Snape was not buying it.

"Do you take me for one of those gullible orphans you used to fool?" Snape's voice was razor-sharp, his tone bordering on a snarl.

"Do you think dark wizards are just wandering around dropping forbidden spells at random?"

It was clear he wasn't convinced.

"They definitely exist! I even ran into one in London once! He followed me around, probably planning to kidnap me for some evil experiment. For all we know, the one who showed up in the village could be the same person!"

Ian doubled down, reinforcing his fabricated story with past experiences.

That, however, only made Snape's expression darken further.

"Enough! You absolute fool!"

His sharp voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Tell me the truth!"

The sheer force of his presence intensified, pressing down on Ian like an iron weight.

"I am telling the truth…"

Ian's confidence wavered slightly.

It wasn't like he was a master liar—before being thrown into this world, he'd just been an ordinary university student. The kind who once got scammed with counterfeit money while trying to sell cold jelly desserts during summer break.

If not for his natural ability to sense emotions, which allowed him to feel Snape's escalating frustration, he probably would've cracked already.

"You expect me to believe that, with no formal training, a Muggle-raised orphan—who barely understood magic—just happened to teach himself a complex dark spell? All by himself?"

Snape let out a cold, mocking laugh.

"The Corpse Puppet Curse—a spell so advanced that even a fourth- or fifth-year student would struggle to master it in a matter of days."

He began pacing the wreckage-strewn living room, his cloak billowing behind him. His eyes never left Ian.

"I won't deny that you possess… certain natural gifts. A talent for Legilimency, perhaps."

His voice dripped with disdain.

"But there are many, many others in this world with far greater talent than you. Surely you don't fancy yourself more gifted than the Dark Lord himself?"

Ah. Classic Snape—sarcasm so thick it could suffocate a troll.

"I never said that, Professor," Ian murmured.

"At least you've done some reading in A History of Magic and know who the Dark Lord is… that's something, I suppose."

Snape studied him intently.

Then, all at once, his voice rose sharply.

"In that case, you should have enough sense not to insult my intelligence with such a moronic lie! You expect me to believe that you accomplished something even he couldn't at your age?"

Snape's glare could've melted steel.

"Let me make this abundantly clear—you may think yourself clever, but I could easily drag you to Azkaban this very moment. Let the Aurors pry into that little mind of yours and rip the truth straight from your thoughts. You'd spend the rest of your miserable existence in a cell, keeping company with Dementors."

"The only reason I haven't done so already is because you are a Hogwarts student. That alone is the reason you are being given a chance."

His voice was sharp, unwavering.

"Professor, I don't want to go to Azkaban."

Ian widened his eyes in a show of fear.

It wasn't entirely an act.

He wasn't actually worried that Snape would send him to Azkaban, but the professor's fury was very real. And Ian knew there had to be a reason why Snape was so invested in him—why he went out of his way to provide financial support, a home, and secondhand textbooks.

If not for something, Snape would've never spared him more than a passing glance.

"If you don't want to end up there, then tell me—who taught you dark magic?"

Snape's black eyes bore into him.

"It was a dark wizard. He dropped a note. Right in front of me."

Ian stubbornly clung to his original story.

There was no way he was giving up that Grindelwald-annotated copy of Advanced Dark Magic: A Comprehensive Study.

Knowledge was not a crime!

"Enough!"

Snape's patience finally snapped. With a sharp crack, his palm slammed against the table.

"Fine. Fine! You think I can't prove you're lying just because I can't find this so-called 'dark wizard' of yours?"

His voice was a low, menacing growl, every word practically spat through gritted teeth.

"I am telling the truth."

Ian kept his face carefully neutral, aiming for an expression of innocent confusion.

After all, it was the truth—just not all of it. A few… artistic liberties had been taken.

"You insufferable little brat," Snape sneered.

Then, in one fluid motion, he grabbed a quill and parchment, scribbling furiously.

"What are you doing?" Ian asked, curiosity piqued.

Snape finished writing, then shoved the parchment toward him.

"This is a note dropped by a dark wizard," he said mockingly. "Go on then, Mr. Prince—prove your extraordinary talents. Let's see you master a spell just from reading it."

His voice was dripping with sarcasm. His expression? Pure challenge.

Ian's eyes gleamed with interest.

"Wait, Professor… are you actually teaching me magic?"

His excitement was palpable as he eagerly leaned in to examine the parchment.

Sure enough, a detailed spell was scrawled across the page.