32: Ghost Stories Galore! Snape's Fury!

The curtains were drawn tight.

Shredded oilcloth and mangled corpses littered the entire house. If he had not known clearly that this was one of the vacant properties in his name, Snape would have thought he had wandered into some Dark Wizard's lair.

"So you were walking down the street, accidentally bumped into a Dark Wizard, and a note accidentally fell out of his robes."

"And that note just happened to record a Dark Magic spell. You failed to recognize it, yet out of curiosity, you accidentally learned the Dark Magic recorded on it?"

Snape fixed Ian with a vicious stare. His face looked as unpleasant as a crumpled sheet of paper, his brows twisted into what seemed like an unsolvable knot.

"Yes, that's exactly what happened."

Ian nodded his head like a bobblehead.

"Professor, I'm innocent. I'm the victim. My poor little heart was so frightened that I couldn't sleep at all Last night!" Ian widened his green Eyes as much as he could.

Naturally, his words were only half true.

Even though he was not a Young Wizard born and raised in the Wizarding World, Ian knew that a book like Secrets of the Darkest Art was practically equivalent to a cult manual in the Wizarding World.

Say Aurora had given it to him?

Never mind whether that would clear his name—his limited-edition study textbook would definitely be confiscated, and he might even be held accountable for coming into contact with Secrets of the Darkest Art afterward!

After all.

Aurora had a Grandfather named Grindelwald.

He did not!

If Aurora possessed Secrets of the Darkest Art, it could be called a family tradition. If he possessed Secrets of the Darkest Art, he would probably be branded Voldemort the Second!

"I never thought this place used to be a cemetery, Professor. You have no idea—when those corpses crawled out from beneath the floorboards, I was so scared my soul nearly left my body!"

Ian continued playing up his misery in an exaggerated tone, trying his best to look more innocent.

However.

Snape clearly was not buying it.

"Boy, do you think I am as easy to fool as those Children at the Orphanage?" Snape's expression remained ugly, and there was a trace of gritted fury in his voice.

"Do you think Dark Wizards grow on trees?"

He clearly did not believe Ian's absurd tale.

"It definitely was a Dark Wizard. I ran into one in London too—he followed me the whole time, trying to capture me for some evil experiment. For all we know, it might even have been the same one in the village!"

Ian tried to make his story more convincing, so he brought up his past encounter.

To his surprise.

Snape's face darkened even further.

"Shut up! You idiot!"

He directly berated Ian.

"Tell me the truth!"

The pressure radiating from Snape intensified considerably.

"It really happened that way..."

Ian's confidence began to waver. It could not be helped—before transmigrating, he had merely been an innocent college student, the sort who could get tricked with counterfeit bills while selling cold jelly noodles from a summer stall.

If Snape had not barged in and, due to his intense emotional fluctuations, allowed Ian to sense fragments of his emotions once again, Ian probably would not have dared to keep stubbornly sticking to his story.

"You expect me to believe that with no one teaching you, a Young Wizard fresh out of a Muggle Orphanage, one who did not even know what magic was, could teach himself such a complicated Dark Magic spell?"

"Heh. The Inferi Control Charm—students in Fourth or Fifth Year would not dare claim they could master magic of this level in only a few days!"

Snape gave a mocking sneer.

"Perhaps you truly do possess some gift from heaven, a natural Legilimens..." Snape began pacing back and forth through the wrecked living room.

His eyes never left Ian. "But there are many, many people in this world more talented than you. Surely you do not think you can be more formidable than The Dark Lord?"

A classic Snape-style sarcastic jab.

"I never said that, Professor."

Ian muttered a quiet rebuttal.

"It seems you have at least flipped through your A History of Magic textbook these past few days and know who The Dark Lord is... That is good." Snape continued studying Ian's reaction.

All of a sudden.

His tone shifted, and he raised his voice.

"Then you should not have used that troll-like brain of yours to fabricate such a stupid lie, trying to make me believe you could accomplish something even The Dark Lord could not."

"I can tell you directly: at your age, The Dark Lord did not know this Dark Magic." Snape glared at Ian as though he wanted to swallow him whole.

"Hiss, you know The Dark Lord's true identity?"

Ian tried to change the subject with feigned shock.

Unfortunately, Snape did not take the bait.

He continued glaring viciously at Ian.

"I could send you to Azkaban right now and let the Aurors use that Legilimency you are so proud of to dig out your secrets. Then you would spend the rest of your life there with Dementors."

"The only reason I have not done so is because I want to give you a chance... You should understand that it is only because you are a Hogwarts student that I am giving you this chance!"

Snape threatened Ian sternly.

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

Ian looked at Snape with a face full of panic.

That was half an act, half genuine.

He was certainly afraid.

But not so afraid that he truly worried about being sent to Azkaban—he was not an idiot. Of course he could tell that there had to be some sort of connection between himself and Snape.

Otherwise.

Never mind giving him money or arranging a place for him to live; even taking him to Diagon Alley to buy some secondhand textbooks would probably have counted as Snape being in a good mood that day.

"If you do not want to go to prison, then tell me who taught you Dark Magic."

Snape stared Ian down.

"It was a Dark Wizard. He had a note, and it fell right in front of me."

Ian still clung to his original explanation. He could not help it—he truly could not bear to part with the personally annotated Secrets of the Darkest Art by Grindelwald.

Knowledge was not a crime!

Smack!

Snape was furious enough to slam his palm onto the table.

"Fine! Very good! You think that because I cannot find that Dark Wizard, I cannot verify your utterly ridiculous story, is that it?" Snape sounded as if he had something stuffed in his mouth as he spoke.

He was grinding his teeth.

Every syllable seemed to be forced out through the gaps between them.

"I'm telling the truth."

Ian once again put on an innocent, slightly bewildered expression.

Well.

It did count as the truth, just not the whole truth, with a little artistic embellishment added... How could that not be called the truth?

"You little smart-aleck!"

Snape sneered.

Then.

He grabbed some paper and a pen from the table and rapidly scribbled a long string of words across the page.

"What are you doing?"

Ian asked curiously.

"This is a note dropped by a Dark Wizard. Come now, Mr. Prince. Prove that your talent is stronger than The Dark Lord's, perhaps even stronger than Dumbledore's... talent!"

Snape held the paper out before Ian.

His voice dripped with sarcasm.

His eyes had turned mocking and amused as well.

"Are you teaching me magic?"

Ian's eyes lit up.

He immediately looked eagerly at the paper in his hand.

Sure enough.

The note truly contained the detailed principles of a spell.