The city was veiled in a light mist.
On London's smoggy days, it seemed as though layer upon layer of gauzy curtains floated through the air.
On a quiet street.
Ian was still immersed in the sadness of parting.
He had always looked forward to truly learning magic, but now that he was actually leaving the orphanage to pursue his studies, he still felt reluctant to part with this place and the people in it.
After all, this was where Ian had lived for eleven years since crossing over.
"Heh, it seems, Mr. Prince, that you know how to make people like you."
Snape's voice broke the heavy silence. For some reason, even when his words seemed perfectly normal, his unhurried tone always made them sound sarcastic.
Ian didn't respond.
He simply dragged his suitcase behind Snape.
His mood was rather low.
He didn't feel like putting any effort into dealing with the professor in front of him. After all, no matter how well-behaved a student was, they wouldn't win the favor of Hogwarts' Potions Master.
Faced with Ian's silence,
Snape spoke again.
"You left all your money with them. That wasn't something a clever person would do." Clearly, Snape's wizarding eyes had not missed Ian's little maneuver earlier.
"I still kept a little. I can go to... the appropriate place and exchange it for the wizarding world's currency." Ian looked up at Snape, who seemed a little out of character.
What happened to being taciturn?
"At least you're not completely stupid."
Snape gave a snort through his nose.
"You do know that you're an orphan who was taken in here, someone who needs to be looked after, right?" Snape slowed his pace and glanced sideways at Ian.
"I wasn't very healthy as a child. Maybe it was because my magic was awakening. I was sickly and often ill." Ian didn't answer Snape's question directly.
"Miss Elena would take me to the hospital in town. The orphanage was in a much worse financial state back then than it is now, but she still bought expensive medicine for me."
"There wasn't much food at the orphanage, either. When I was sick, Catherine would give me half of her bread, and Daniel would run off to find wild herbs for me."
"Daniel's grandmother, the healer, was poisoned by her own medicine, but that didn't stop Daniel from believing that if I took his medicine, I'd grow strong and healthy."
"And Mia was even younger than me. Whenever I got sick, she'd pray to God for me all night long. Everyone was very, very good to me."
Ian's voice was gentle and even.
"Tsk, tsk, are you trying to move me?"
Snape remained unmoved.
"No, Professor."
Ian didn't expect Snape to understand how he felt. He'd heard that people who became Death Eaters didn't understand love, so he could only try explaining it to Snape from another angle.
"They've done so much for me, so now that I'm able to, of course I should think about them, too." Ian spoke softly, his voice resolute.
"It's only right that I do my part."
The child's voice echoed along the deserted street. His small figure followed Snape through the smog, and his calm words left Snape, cloaked in black, silent for a long time.
"Tsk, tsk. You're just a kid, but you've got plenty to say. Really sticking your nose into things that aren't your concern."
After a long while,
Snape sneered without changing his expression.
"Though a kind, wealthy person has been donating anonymously all these years, the pound has lost a lot of its purchasing power lately. Without that money, everyone would be having a very hard time."
Ian had started selling things on the street every day not only to improve his [Psychology] proficiency, but also to earn a little extra money and ease Miss Elena's burden.
Even if Hogwarts hadn't entered the picture, the money would eventually have gone toward eggs, milk, vegetables, and meat, which he would have brought back to the orphanage by some other means.
Honestly, an eleven-year-old child didn't need much money for himself. Ian wasn't some saint, but he certainly wasn't an ungrateful Sea God Douluo, either.
"So you want me to call you the orphanage's Chosen One?"
Snape still looked at Ian sidelong, his slow speech making Ian want to punch him.
"No, Professor. If you'd show some generosity and donate a little money to the orphanage, then you'd be the real Chosen One. You'd be the real hero."
Yes.
After all that rambling,
Ian's ulterior motive had finally shown.
He turned his big green eyes toward Snape. He thought his eyes were the same color as Lily Potter's; perhaps that might have some effect?
Besides,
although he still didn't understand what Dumbledore had meant earlier, he had definitely sensed Snape's guilt through [Thought Perception].
If he could use that to get Snape to donate some money, it would be a stroke of luck for the orphanage—Ian's own few pennies would only last them a little while.
But the Snape standing here now was Hogwarts' Potions Master. Even a tiny bit trickling through the gaps between his teeth would be enough to benefit the orphanage immensely.
Never underestimate the wealth of a Potions Master.
"You really are a..."
Snape stopped walking.
His black eyes fixed on Ian.
They held a sharp, complex expression that was difficult to read.
"A proper Slytherin."
Clearly,
there was no way Ian's little trick could fool Snape. He'd realized almost instantly what Ian was ultimately trying to achieve after all that heart-tugging talk.
"It's just a pity that you don't know me. I'm no good person. I wouldn't donate even a single Galleon to a ridiculous Muggle orphanage."
Snape sneered.
Then, as Ian looked on in disappointment, he started walking again.
He led Ian into an empty alley.
"Drink this."
Snape suddenly pulled out a bottle of bright green potion.
His words left no room for refusal.
"Hm?"
Ian, still dragging his suitcase, froze for a moment. He looked at the green potion bubbling in the bottle and swallowed nervously, forcing a sheepish smile.
"Professor, what is this...?"
He suspected Snape wanted to poison him. Even if it wasn't enough to kill him, he'd probably be left with psychological scars. Everyone knew potions in the wizarding world tasted awful.
"You don't think I'd need some trick to make you drink a potion if I wanted to hurt you, do you?" Snape looked at Ian with contempt.
Well...
He did have a point.
"I just thought it might taste bad."
Ian's reply was rather feeble.
But
Snape simply stopped and stared at him without expression.
"Fine, fine."
With a grimace,
Ian took the potion.
He gulped it down in one go, like medicine—huh? The aftertaste wasn't bitter at all. It was sweet, like coconut milk, and went down easily!
That couldn't be right.
Wasn't Snape's Potions supposed to taste awful?
Ian was still savoring the potion.
"I've never seen such a cowardly fool!"
Snape suddenly grabbed Ian by the neck with one hand and raised his wand with the other, casting Apparition. Their figures vanished from the alley in an instant.
Ian's vision blurred.
When his sight cleared again,
everything around him had changed beyond recognition.
Before him stretched a cobbled street that seemed to reach all the way to the horizon. Shops of every kind lined both sides of the road, each one different. People in strange, beautiful clothes laughed and played in the street.
Feather dusters swept away the dust by themselves. Brooms with no one holding them cleaned the rubbish from the road. Owls, snakes, rats... all kinds of animals perched obediently and adorably on the wizards' shoulders.
The scene he'd once seen only in movies now appeared before Ian without warning, in a way dozens of times more breathtaking than anything on the screen.
He knew.
This was Diagon Alley.
For him, and so many others... this was where the dream began.
(The End)