Chapter 15: Magic, Here I Come!

The weather was a bit chilly.

Ian glanced back at the slowly closing door before looking up at the weathered sign of Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. At that moment, he felt as if he had just discovered the biggest scam operation in the magical world.

"A bunch of cunning swindlers."

Muttering under his breath, Ian cast a critical eye toward Ollivander's shop. He couldn't shake the feeling that Voldemort's vast following wasn't just a result of his threats and coercion. No, there had to be something else at play.

And when Ian thought about it, the real culprit seemed obvious—Ollivander himself.

Imagine it:

You're just a kid, barely ten years old, and you walk into a shop where a mysterious old man tells you that you're destined for greatness. He hands you a wand and proclaims that it was "meant for you." Then, years later, you meet someone like Napoleon or Julius Caesar, and before you know it, you're swept up in a revolution.

Who could resist?

Most people would mistake such coincidences as fate and march straight into disaster with open arms.

"I've figured out the root of the magical world's chaos!"

Ian was certain that his revelation deserved a full academic paper. If only Hogwarts had a journal that could properly appreciate his brilliance.

"Maybe I should consider The Daily Prophet. A newspaper that famous surely pays well."

Ian mused over the idea while scanning the street for Snape.

Thankfully, the notoriously unreliable professor hadn't abandoned him. Ian quickly spotted him standing outside a shop. Without hesitation, he picked up his pace and hurried over.

"Professor, could you teach me how to write a proper wizarding paper?"

Ian figured that having a Hogwarts professor's name attached to his work would significantly increase his chances of getting published in The Daily Prophet—maybe even boost his payment.

Snape, however, barely spared him a glance.

"Mr. Prince, I have no interest in the childish and idiotic musings of a first-year. Now, choose a pet that will actually assist in your studies."

His tone was cold, but his gaze briefly flickered toward Ian's wand, still tucked into his pocket.

Then, without another word, Snape rapped his knuckles against the glass of the nearby shop.

It was only then that Ian realized—this was a pet store.

Through the window, he saw countless creatures locked in cages: cats, toads, owls, lizards, and even a few animals with magical bloodlines. But none of them truly caught his interest.

To be fair, Ian did have a soft spot for owls.

However, considering that Hogwarts already had plenty of school owls available for free, he saw no reason to spend money on one. Why pay when you could borrow?

"Professor, am I allowed to choose any pet I want?" Ian asked tentatively.

"Hmm."

Snape merely grunted in response.

"Then... I'll take a phoenix."

Ian blinked innocently.

A lion would have been his first choice, but even he knew that was pushing it.

Snape's eye twitched.

"Are you sure you haven't overdosed on your calming draught and lost all sense of reality?"

He was genuinely baffled. Never before had he met someone so utterly shameless.

A phoenix?

Who did Ian think he was?

"How about a bird with phoenix ancestry?" Ian suggested. They use phoenix feathers in wands, so phoenixes can't be that rare, right?

His logic was sound—for someone who had grown up in a Muggle orphanage. From his perspective, if phoenix feathers were common enough to be used in wand-making, then surely, getting an actual phoenix couldn't be that hard.

"No wizard in this century—aside from the Dumbledore family—has ever gained the favor of a phoenix," Snape sneered. "I suggest you abandon this ridiculous fantasy."

Then, after a pause, he added mockingly, "Unless, of course, you believe Albus Dumbledore would be willing to gift his phoenix to you."

It was an obvious jab.

Ian, however, was unfazed.

"How about you ask for me, Professor? I'm sure Dumbledore would be more than happy to grant you such a favor."

Snape's lips parted slightly.

Then he shut them again.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if he had lost the ability to form words.

"You insufferable little brat," he finally hissed.

His glare could have burned a hole through Ian's skull.

"If your brain functioned at a level higher than that of a mountain troll, you'd realize the sheer idiocy of your request. Instead of chasing impossible dreams, you should be choosing something practical—like a toad or a rat."

Ian raised an eyebrow.

"That's not a pet. That's a test subject."

"Is there a difference?"

Snape smirked coldly.

"Perhaps you belong in Gryffindor, where fools waste their time on sentimentality and pointless affections."

Ian ignored the blatant jab.

After a long moment of contemplation, he sighed.

"I think I'll pass. I've spent enough money today, and I can barely afford to take care of myself, let alone a pet."

Pressing his forehead against the glass, Ian scanned the animals one last time before stepping away.

Nothing caught his eye.

He was an adult at heart, after all. His idea of an ideal pet was quite different from that of an ordinary child.

"Suit yourself."

Snape didn't argue. With a dramatic swish of his robes, he turned and strode off.

Ian quickly followed, dragging his suitcase behind him.

"If I can't have a phoenix, what about a snake?"

Snape's pace slowed slightly, allowing Ian to catch up.

"First-years are prohibited from keeping dangerous creatures as pets."

Then, he cast a sidelong glance at Ian, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Besides, you already declined your chance to purchase a pet. Too late to change your mind now."

He sounded almost gleeful.

Ian wasn't bothered.

"That's fine. I'll just wait until my second or third year."

After all, Ian wasn't interested in just any snake.

He wanted a basilisk.

Bigger was always better.

Snape narrowed his eyes.

"I see. It's not that you don't want a pet—it's that you believe the ones in this shop are beneath you."

His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Let's hope you don't regret your foolish decision. You should know that magical creatures—even those with only a hint of mystical blood—are far beyond the financial reach of a mere first-year student."

"Thanks for the warning, Professor."

Ian nodded politely.

Snape frowned. He had expected a reaction—any reaction—but Ian remained completely unfazed.

With a final, scrutinizing glance at the boy, Snape turned his attention forward.

"Prepare yourself."

Ian barely had time to register his words before Snape's hand clamped onto the back of his neck.

Then—

A sudden pull.

Ian's stomach lurched as the world blurred around him. Unlike last time, the sensation of Apparition was far less comfortable. The nausea was minor but noticeable—perhaps the potion Snape had given him earlier was wearing off.

Before he could dwell on it—

Whoosh!

With a rush of air, the sensation ended.

Gone were the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. In their place stood a quiet, picturesque village nestled among the Scottish Highlands. A gentle stream babbled in the distance, and the air carried the warm, sugary scent of magical sweets.

Hogsmeade.

The only all-wizarding village in Britain.

"You'll be staying here until the start of term."

Snape led Ian to a small wooden cabin on the outskirts of the village. Before Ian could ask, the professor wordlessly handed him a key—along with a small pouch of Galleons.

"If I catch you wandering off, you'll regret it."

With that, Snape spun on his heel and strode away, his robes billowing behind him.

His movements were unusually brisk—almost like he was in a hurry to deal with something important.

"Did he just tell me not to run away...?"

Shaking his head, he turned toward his suitcase.

But right now, there was only one thing on his mind—

"Magic! Here I come!"