Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

The sun rose and set, time flowing like a river.

Hogsmeade always seemed to remain tranquil and peaceful, untouched by the chaos of the outside world.

Beyond the village, the trees stood tall, their branches lush with leaves, their trunks entwined with the creeping vines of time. Ian, carrying a newly purchased axe, was steadily chopping at a moderately sized tree.

"Young man, do you need any help?"

Madam Puddifoot, the plump proprietress of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, happened to be returning from outside the village. Her round figure was accentuated by the tightly wound black bun at the back of her head.

Seeing the small boy struggling to fell a tree, she did not scold him. Instead, she pulled out her wand with a warm smile and offered, "Shall I lend you a hand?"

"Miss Puddifoot, that would be wonderful. I could certainly use your help." Ian had not only underestimated his own talent for the Dark Arts but also overestimated his physical strength.

Who would have thought that chopping down a single tree would take over half an hour and still not fall? It wasn't just that his axe was too small—he simply didn't have the strength or endurance of an adult.

"You always know just what to say."

Madam Puddifoot was clearly pleased with his form of address. Anyone who had stepped into her tea shop, decorated in overwhelmingly girlish tones, would recognize her fondness for youthful charm.

"Would you like me to cut it into smaller pieces for you?"

Without reciting an incantation, she merely flicked her wand, and with a sharp crack, the partially chopped tree snapped cleanly at the notch. The severed log then floated into the air under the effects of a Levitation Charm.

"If possible, I'd like wooden planks, piece by piece."

Ian watched in admiration as magic worked its wonders before him.

Those who could run businesses near Hogwarts might not all be prodigious spellcasters, but they were certainly skilled witches and wizards in their own right.

"As you wish."

With a gentle wave of her wand, the once-whole tree split apart in precise sections, transforming into neat wooden planks that stacked themselves orderly before Ian.

"You truly are a master of magic!"

Ian's praise was heartfelt.

"Hahaha! I was top of my class, you know!"

Madam Puddifoot beamed with pride.

"I hope I can be as talented as you someday."

Ian was quick to offer flattery, making the plump witch laugh heartily. Her laughter was full and unrestrained, embodying the confidence of a formidable woman.

"Hufflepuff would surely welcome you."

She revealed the house she had once belonged to.

"I'd be honored to be a great Hufflepuff," Ian responded smoothly. In truth, he had no objection to joining that house.

Who wouldn't love living near the kitchen, indulging in hotpot whenever they pleased or grabbing a steak on a whim?

"Shall I help you transport these planks back?"

Madam Puddifoot's good mood made her even more eager to assist.

"The distance isn't far. I can carry them in batches—it'll be good exercise." Ian didn't want to trouble her too much. Instead, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at some of the planks.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The spell worked successfully, lifting a portion of the planks into the air. As a result, Ian's status panel flickered with an update:

[Successfully cast Levitation Charm. Magic proficiency +3.]

A natural talent in the Dark Arts did not mean he was lacking in other forms of magic—after all, the Dark Arts were merely a branch of magic itself.

Of course, given his limited time for study, his first-level Levitation Charm wasn't strong enough to control objects that were too heavy.

"Impressive spellwork," Madam Puddifoot remarked as she watched Ian carefully guide the floating planks toward the village. She was genuinely surprised.

"You'll grow into a fine wizard."

That was her sincere belief. Casting a Levitation Charm wasn't particularly difficult, but maintaining its stability required considerable skill.

Many second-year students at Hogwarts still struggled with it—let alone an incoming first-year.

"I certainly hope so. Thank you for your help."

Ian focused entirely on maintaining his spell, raising a hand to wave goodbye as he carefully maneuvered the floating planks toward his small cabin.

Snape had arranged for him to stay in a house at the edge of the village. The distance wasn't far.

Along the way:

[Successfully maintained Levitation Charm. Magic proficiency +1.]

After four or five trips, Ian finally transported all the planks to his cabin.

However, he still lacked a shovel, a deodorizing potion, plastic sheets, and—most importantly—nails.

***

Hogwarts, Slytherin Head of House's Office

Severus Snape's expression was dark and stormy.

As the Potions Master of Hogwarts, a world-renowned expert in the field, he had somehow managed to botch a batch of Felix Felicis—a potion so simple it was practically foolproof!

"It's all Dumbledore's fault!"

His recent sleepless nights had led him to miss a crucial stirring phase, ruining what should have been a perfect batch of Liquid Luck.

And Snape laid all the blame on Dumbledore. The reason? That meddling old man had recently uttered a single, infuriating sentence:

"It's not that he needs you—it's that you need him."

Snape had dismissed the words as utter nonsense at the time. Yet, for days, the phrase haunted his thoughts, refusing to dissipate.

"I don't need anyone!"

Snape still firmly believed that.

But he knew—if he wanted to silence this lingering doubt, he needed to prove himself.

Thus, staring at the imperfect potion still simmering in the cauldron, his expression flickered with indecision. After a long moment, he finally seemed to reach a decision, pulling on his ever-present, perpetually unwashed black cloak.

"If he can't even take care of himself, how can he expect to study magic properly…?"

It sounded like an excuse to himself.

Snape strode swiftly out of his office, passing Argus Filch, who was inspecting school equipment.

"Good morning, Professor Snape!"

Filch, Hogwarts' Squib caretaker, was ever eager to ingratiate himself with the faculty.

Snape, however, didn't even spare him a glance, brushing past without a word.

Filch's forced smile wavered slightly. He didn't dare complain but muttered under his breath as he clutched Mrs. Norris closer and returned to his work.

***

Snape arrived in Hogsmeade.

Standing before the small cabin, he didn't need a key. With a flick of his wand, he easily unlocked the triple-layered locks.

Triple locks?! The boy was paranoid.

Hogsmeade had never had security issues.

Expressionless, he stepped inside.

Then—

The ever-stoic Potions Master nearly lost composure.

"WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING!?"

His voice shot up in a sharp, near-hysterical pitch.

No wonder the door had been locked three times.

A massive hole had been dug into the floor.

A young wizard was crouched over a hastily built, lopsided coffin, struggling to stuff two horrifically decomposed corpses inside.

Around the already-dilapidated cabin, several other bodies lay scattered in various states of rot.

This… this wasn't something one expected to find in Hogsmeade!

Ian looked up in shock, startled so badly that he accidentally tore an arm off one of the corpses.

Snape's face darkened even further.

"Give me one good reason not to send you straight to Azkaban!"