The sun rose and the moon set; time flowed on.
Hogsmeade Village seemed forever peaceful and tranquil.
Outside the village, trees stood lush with foliage, their trunks wrapped in the vines of time. Ian held the ax he had just bought and kept hacking away at a tree that wasn't particularly thick.
"Little Ian, do you need my help?"
Madam Puddifoot, the owner of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, happened to be returning from outside the village. She was plump, with her glossy black hair swept into a bun at the back of her head.
Seeing little Ian chopping down a tree, the tea shop owner didn't scold him. Instead, she pulled out her wand and asked with a warm smile, "Would you like some help?"
"Madam Puddifoot, sorry for the trouble. I really could use your help." Ian had underestimated his talent for Dark Magic, and he had also overestimated the strength and stamina of a boy barely ten years old.
Who would have thought that a tree could be so tough? He'd been chopping for half an hour, and it still hadn't fallen. It wasn't just because his ax was too small. Ian simply didn't have the strength or stamina of an adult.
"You're still such a sweet talker."
Madam Puddifoot was very pleased with how Ian addressed her. In fact, the way she had decorated her tea shop in a thoroughly girlish style made it easy to guess at some of the thoughts in the plump witch's mind.
"Would you like me to cut it into smaller pieces?"
Madam Puddifoot didn't say an incantation. She merely gave her wand a gentle wave, and the tree snapped at the notch Ian had made. Then she used the Levitation Charm to make it float in midair.
"If you can, I'd like it cut into planks."
Ian watched the spectacle before him with envy.
The witches and wizards who lived near Hogwarts and ran shops might not have been prodigies or renowned masters, but they were certainly among the elite of the wizarding world.
"As you wish."
Madam Puddifoot flicked her wand, and the crude tree began to split apart. Before long, it had become a stack of neatly arranged planks in front of Ian.
"You really are a master of magic!"
Ian exclaimed sincerely.
"Hahahaha, I used to be top of my year, you know."
Madam Puddifoot couldn't help showing off a little.
"I hope I can be as excellent as you someday."
Ian quickly played along, making Madam Puddifoot laugh heartily. The plump witch's laughter was bold and genuine, giving her the air of a woman of great spirit.
"Hufflepuff would be happy to have you."
Madam Puddifoot revealed which house she had once belonged to.
"I hope I can become an outstanding Hufflepuff, too." Ian always tailored his words to whoever he was speaking with, but he didn't actually mind ending up in Hufflepuff.
Who wouldn't want to live next to the kitchens, where they could eat hot pot whenever they felt like it and beef whenever they wanted?
"Would you like me to help you carry these planks back?"
Madam Puddifoot was delighted, and immediately became even more eager to help.
"It's not far. I can take them back in batches... It'll be good exercise, too." Ian didn't want to trouble her too much. He took out his wand, pointed it at some of the planks, and recited the spell.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Ian successfully cast the spell, and some of the planks floated into the air. His status panel changed along with them.
[Successfully cast Levitation Charm, Magic Proficiency +3]
Someone with exceptional talent for Dark Magic couldn't possibly lack talent in other areas of magic. After all, Dark Magic was still a kind of magic.
Of course.
He'd only been learning for a very short time.
His Level 1 [Levitation Charm] couldn't help Ian control anything too heavy.
"What an impressive piece of spellwork."
Madam Puddifoot watched Ian carefully guide the floating planks toward the village, and she couldn't help voicing her surprised admiration.
"You'll definitely become an excellent wizard someday."
That was Madam Puddifoot's opinion of Ian now. After all, successfully casting the [Levitation Charm] wasn't difficult, but maintaining it so steadily was.
And it wasn't just young wizards who hadn't started school yet.
Many second-years couldn't do it, either.
"I hope so, too. Thank you for your help."
Ian focused all his attention on controlling the spell. He waved goodbye to Madam Puddifoot with his free hand, then cautiously set off toward the little wooden house.
The house Snape had arranged for him was already on the edge of the village.
It wasn't far.
Along the way.
[Successfully maintained Levitation Charm, Magic Proficiency +1]
Ian gained another point of proficiency. After making the trip back and forth four or five times, he finally carried all the planks into the little wooden house.
However.
He still needed a shovel, deodorizer, plastic sheeting, and, most importantly, nails.
Hogwarts.
The Slytherin Head of House's office.
Snape looked deeply displeased.
As a Potions Class professor at Hogwarts and a world-renowned Potions Master, he had somehow managed to ruin a simple batch of Felix Felicis that even a foolish Gryffindor could have brewed!
"It's all Dumbledore's fault!"
Snape hadn't been sleeping well lately. That was why he had missed the time to stir the Felix Felicis that day, leaving an irreparable flaw in what should have been a perfect potion.
Snape blamed the mistake on Dumbledore. The reason was simple: he couldn't sleep because of something Dumbledore had said to him a few days earlier.
"He doesn't need you. You need him."
Snape had immediately rebuked Dumbledore for talking nonsense, but those words had lingered in his mind for days, impossible to dispel.
"I don't need anyone!"
Snape still firmly believed that.
But he also knew.
If he wanted to banish the nightmare haunting him, he had to do something to prove himself.
And so.
Looking at the Felix Felicis that was no longer perfect but was still brewing, Snape's expression shifted again and again. After a long while, he finally seemed to make up his mind and put on his coat.
The same old robe that looked as if it had never been washed.
"If you can't even look after yourself, what's the point of learning magic..."
Snape seemed to be making excuses for having neglected Ian these past few days. He hurried out of his office and passed Argus Filch, who was inspecting some equipment along the way.
He was Hogwarts' caretaker, a Squib who patrolled at night and fancied himself a disciplinarian—a man who might have been pitiful, but certainly didn't deserve anyone's pity.
"Good morning, Professor Snape."
Filch was always very enthusiastic toward professors.
However.
Snape didn't even look at him.
He walked straight past him.
The smile on Filch's face grew a little awkward, but he didn't dare make a scene. Only after Snape had gone did he grumble to himself, clutching his cat as he went back to work.
"I hope he hasn't starved to death yet."
Snape arrived in Hogsmeade Village.
He stood in front of the little wooden house.
He didn't need a key. He pulled out his wand and easily opened the locked door... It had been locked three times? Snape was somewhat puzzled by the caution of whoever lived inside.
Hogsmeade Village had always been safe.
He stepped inside without changing expression.
The next moment.
The Slytherin Head of House at Hogwarts immediately understood why the door had been locked three times. His usually impassive face twisted as he struggled to keep his composure.
"What are you doing?!"
Snape's voice shot up to the shrill pitch of an oboe.
It wasn't his fault.
He had just seen something he couldn't believe, something he had never imagined he would find in this little wooden house. A huge pit had been dug into the floor!
A young wizard was sprawled over a crooked, apparently hastily made coffin, struggling to shove two thoroughly rotten-looking corpses inside.
In the already dilapidated house.
Three or four more corpses lay scattered about, each in a different stage of decay, silent and still. Damn it! How could anyone expect to see such a horrifying scene in Hogsmeade Village!?
"Mr. Prince!"
Snape's face turned livid.
He saw the young wizard look up in terror. Startled by the sudden fright, the boy had even torn the arm off one of the corpses, making Snape's face turn even more livid.
"I need a reasonable explanation for why I shouldn't send you to Azkaban!!"
It was practically a roar.