An Encounter at Ivan's Bespoke Shop

Stepping out of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Madara found the afternoon sunlight of Diagon Alley lazily spilling down around him.

Madara narrowed his eyes slightly.

London's sunlight was mild and unhurried, completely unlike the Shinobi World's either violent or bitter chill. He could not say he liked it, nor could he say he disliked it. It was simply... different.

Behind him, the four Shadow Guards stood as quietly as shadows. Only their scarlet eyes occasionally shifted, sweeping over the shadows at street corners, the owls on the rooftops, and the wizards dressed in all manner of strange robes—everything was unfamiliar.

"Ivan's Bespoke Shop."

Madara spoke in a tone as flat as if he were saying, "The weather is nice today."

The lead Shadow Guard immediately bowed, moved half a step aside, and led the way ahead. The location had long been confirmed through intelligence. The clan head naturally did not need to concern himself with such trivial matters.

Unlike the warm, classical atmosphere of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Ivan's Bespoke Shop stood at a relatively secluded corner of Diagon Alley.

Its storefront was broader, while its decorations were colder and more luxurious.

Complex runes traced in Mithril glimmered faintly across the heavy black walnut doors—

Defensive magic, the kind with identity recognition.

The display windows held not mass-produced school robes, but several highly distinctive robes and outfits:

An evening gown that seemed woven from the night itself, seemingly dotted with fragments of starlight that gleamed dazzlingly.

A hunting outfit made from a mix of genuine leather and finely spun wool, its lines sharp and rugged, clearly intended for those who enjoyed adventure.

There was also a formal dark green wizard's robe, decorated with silver thread engraved with Ancient Runes, giving off a strong scholarly air.

Madara pushed the door open and entered.

The bronze bell above the door rang with a low "ding," unlike the crisp chime found in ordinary shops—this was the echo of detection magic.

The shop was much deeper than it appeared from outside. Beneath its lofty vaulted ceiling, both walls were lined with dark solid-wood wardrobes stretching all the way to the ceiling.

The air was filled with the musky scent of old parchment, the lacquer-like smell of special dyes, and the faint fragrance unique to premium magical fabrics. Blended together, they created a... carefully maintained sense of age. As though the place were saying: I have heritage. I have quality.

A middle-aged wizard in a well-fitted dark gray waistcoat of crisp fabric, his hair meticulously combed, hurried out from the back room. It was the shop owner, Mr. Ivan.

His gaze first swept over the four members of the Shadow Guard, lingering briefly on them before falling upon Madara.

A flicker of understanding passed through his eyes.

Young. Far too young.

Yet the nearly tangible magical fluctuations around the boy, along with the look in his eyes that seemed to regard everything as mere insects, instantly made Ivan discard any thought of slighting him.

"Good afternoon, honored guest. Welcome to Ivan's Bespoke Shop. We provide the finest bespoke services in the entire Wizarding World. Whether it is magical enhancement, protection, comfort, or taste... we can fulfill every one of your requirements." Ivan gave a slight bow, his posture impeccable and his tone respectful without being fawning.

Madara did not respond.

He walked to the center of the shop, casually sweeping his gaze over the surroundings.

One Shadow Guard stepped half a pace forward and spoke in a voice as steady as if delivering a report:

"My master requires custom everyday wear and formal attire. They must reflect the family's style."

Ivan immediately took out a magical notepad.

"The base colors should be dark: black, navy, and deep purple. The family crest—a fan design—must be incorporated. Its presentation should be understated and resonate with magic, not merely be simple embroidery."

The Shadow Guard spoke at an unhurried pace, but every point was clear:

"The cut must allow for wide-ranging movement without sacrificing dignity. The fabrics must be of the highest grade, possessing the best physical and magical resistance, temperature regulation, self-cleaning properties, and permanent basic defensive spells. The cuffs, collar, and hem must reserve interfaces for engraved runes that channel and amplify magic..."

As Mr. Ivan rapidly recorded everything in his magical notepad, he clicked his tongue inwardly.

These requirements... were far too professional. The emphasis on combat practicality and magical compatibility was not something an ordinary scion of a noble family would consider. It was more like an ancient battle family, or... some unspeakable force.

As for the "fan" crest...

He ran through the heraldry of every pure-blood family in the United Kingdom and even Europe—nothing. He had absolutely no recollection of it.

Could they be some reclusive foreign family?

Before long, the discussion between the Shadow Guard and Ivan entered the detailed stage: the fabric would preferably be Eastern fire silkworm silk blended with Mithril fibers, and three masters from different fields would need to collaborate on the rune engraving...

Just then—

The shop door was pushed open again.

The bronze bell chimed softly.

The newcomer wore the same unchanging black wizard's robes, their hems billowing like a bat's wings.

His complexion was waxy, his hair greasy, and his large hooked nose made his profile appear even more gloomy.

He headed straight for the area on the other side of the counter that displayed potion-resistant protective clothing. He seemed utterly uninterested in anyone else in the shop, radiating an intense aura of "keep away."

Severus Snape.

Madara's gaze naturally shifted from the conversation between the Shadow Guard and the shop owner to this new customer.

The corner of his mouth lifted imperceptibly.

Oh?

So this was the "Potions Master," Voldemort's former confidant, Hogwarts' Potions professor and Head of Slytherin?

The intelligence report described him as gloomy, harsh, supremely capable, and unfathomably deep-minded. He was especially skilled in Occlumency—the foremost technique in this world for resisting mental intrusion.

His scarlet Sharingan quietly opened.

His vision changed.

In Madara's eyes, the outer edges of Snape's mind were wrapped in a dense, frigid magical barrier that constantly flowed and shifted. Its structure was exquisite and complex, like a fortress woven from the toughest spider silk and the coldest ice crystals.

This was the tangible manifestation of Occlumency.

It truly was far more solid and structured than the scattered aura surrounding ordinary wizards. Even within the present-day Uchiha Clan, few could construct mental defenses of this level.

But—

Before the Sharingan, this fortress was not without flaws.

Madara could clearly "see" the subtle patterns in the barrier's magical flow. More importantly, he could sense the bottomless darkness, pain, regret... and a twisted yet stubborn obsession hidden behind it.

A very complicated inner world. One filled with contradictions and self-torment.

Madara's interest rose slightly.

Compared with the wizards of this world, most of whose minds were like undefended villages, Snape... was indeed more like a qualified "ninja."

Though this method of resisting intrusion differed in essence, it was somewhat interesting.

By then, the preliminary discussion between the Shadow Guard and Ivan was nearing its end.

Madara withdrew his gaze and spoke flatly:

"Do it to those standards. Two sets each of everyday clothing for all four seasons and formal attire. Use the best materials your shop has, and apply every available and effective enhancement and protective spell."

He paused, then added three words:

"Spare no expense."

Ivan's breathing immediately quickened.

The best materials—those priceless, scarce treasures.

Every enhancement and protective spell—requiring the cooperation of several master-level runesmiths and enchanters.

The price... would be enough to make many ancient families wince.

Suppressing his excitement, he confirmed, "Honored guest, are you certain? The cost..."

Madara could not even be bothered to answer. He merely glanced at a Shadow Guard.

The Shadow Guard immediately took over. "Cost is not an issue. How much is required as an advance payment?"

Ivan quoted a figure—five times the original price.

The Shadow Guard nodded expressionlessly, took out a pouch bearing an Undetectable Extension Charm, and tossed it over without even counting.

Ivan did not dare delay. He had an employee bring over a huge Galleon basin, then poured out the bag—

Clink, clink, clatter!

Galleons poured forth like a waterfall, piling into a small mountain in the basin. The gleam of gemstones mixed with the golden shine of the coins, illuminating an entire corner of the shop.

The commotion finally drew Snape's attention.

He turned his head slightly, his black eyes coolly sweeping over the mountain of gold before resting for a moment on Madara and the Shadow Guards.

There was no greed in his gaze, only deep confusion.

A... boy with such immense wealth, strange and suppressed magic, demands for custom top-tier magical clothing, and attendants with an unmistakably non-British Wizarding World style?

The combination was far too unusual.