Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

Ian's gaze was immediately drawn to the apple, gleaming like a meticulously crafted piece of art.

"Quick! Eat it now before the old witch sees it! She'll snatch it from you for sure!" Pandero urged, practically shoving the golden apple into Ian's mouth.

Ian coughed, caught off guard by Pandero's forceful excitement. It was the first time he'd ever tried eating something from the Limbo realm, and despite the rough delivery, the apple dissolved like silk on his tongue, its texture soft and ethereal.

"Ian, you're glowing!" Ariana gasped, her voice filled with awe.

Ian couldn't notice the radiance. He was overwhelmed by a warm, strange sensation overflowing through his body—a current of energy so pure, it felt like his soul was being washed clean. He closed his eyes instinctively, surrendering to the wave of vitality surging within.

Thud!

A metallic crash echoed through the hall. Not Ian exploding, thankfully, but something heavy slamming against the castle walls.

Through the haze, he barely caught Pandero's frantic voice:

"She heard me call her an old witch! Run! Run!"

Ariana's voice followed, fading like an echo in a dream. "Ian, we'll wait for you in the village!"

Time became meaningless as his surroundings began to distort and change.

When Ian finally opened his eyes, the hall had been restored. The furniture was back in place, and Mara the witch stood before him, her gaze showing curiosity, contemplation, and something faintly resembling nostalgia?

"I can't believe it... they actually found one!" she muttered, her tone laced with disbelief.

"Didn't you say you chopped down the last golden apple tree?" Ian asked, still unable to access his status panel within the Limbo realm, though his mind felt sharper than ever.

Mara's lips curled slightly. "Apparently, before I felled the last tree, someone managed to smuggle a seed here."

Ian blinked. "Someone did that before you? I thought I am the only one who could cross over like this."

Mara rolled her eyes. "Foolish child. No wizard is as unique as you. No one shares your peculiar... privileges. But bringing a seed here? That's different. There have been plenty of remarkable wizards throughout history, capable of defying logic."

Her gaze softened slightly, lost in distant thoughts. "After all, legends are legends because they achieve the impossible."

Ian tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe I can find some information in the Hogwarts library. Not many wizards reach legendary status, so there might be records."

Mara huffed. "You'd have better luck asking your butcher friend. If he brought you that apple, it means he already knows where it grew."

Ian sighed. "His memory's pretty fragmented. He barely remembers anything from when he was alive."

"Poor soul," Mara said with exaggerated sympathy, clearly mocking.

Trying to smooth things over, Ian added earnestly, "Teacher, I apologize on his behalf. He's always been a bit... reckless. I promise I'll find your mirror and anything else you need as compensation for his behavior."

Mara's scowl eased slightly. "I only care about my mirror." She paused, then added, "And the dragon he promised to bring me."

Ian forced a smile.

So she was eavesdropping the whole time.

"Of course! No problem!" He agreed quickly, though Mara couldn't resist muttering a few more insults under her breath:

"Wretched troublemaker. Vile butcher. Despicable scavenger."

Ian, seizing the chance, asked cautiously, "He must have been extraordinary when he was alive, right?"

Mara shot him a withering look. "My foolish apprentice, why do you ask such idiotic questions? The answer has always been right in front of you. You just choose to ignore it."

Ian frowned. Ignore what? He genuinely had no idea.

"Teacher, can you just tell me who he is?"

Mara laughed darkly. "I may tolerate fools, but I'm not one myself. Why would I tell you, only for you to tell him, and then watch him prance around here for eternity after he remembers? No, thank you."

She clearly couldn't stand Pandero or whomever he really was.

Changing the subject abruptly, Mara gestured around the hall. "Did you know? Everything here—the constructs, the abilities I've shown you—none of it is magic. It's all shaped by imagination."

"Imagination?" Ian echoed, puzzled.

"Yes. In this realm, far from the mortal world, imagination defines what's possible. I believe in the power of knowledge. He believes he can do anything. And three times, he's proven his perception is stronger than mine."

Her voice held a bitter edge, laced with reluctant admiration.

Ian stared, dumbfounded.

So he's basically using the 'I think, therefore I am' loophole?

Mara sighed deeply. "It's unblieveable. Knowledge, beaten by imagination? Totally absurd."

Before Ian could dwell on this revelation, Mara snapped her fingers toward the scattered armor fragments.

"You'll be responsible for rebuilding my guards."

Ian blinked. "Wait, wasn't Pandero supposed to bring you a dragon for that?"

Mara smirked coldly. "That is compensation. This is your duty as my apprentice."

She picked up one of Ian's copied potion textbooks, flipping through it with mild interest.

"I only know how to make a little statue, not full-blown armored soldiers."

"Then learn," she said simply.

Ah, the classic mentor line.

"Is this my new homework?" Ian asked, already resigned.

"I don't expect you to master it overnight, but I'll check your progress regularly." She tore another piece from her elaborate robe, covered in runes, and tossed it to him.

"Next time, stop by the village to see the girl before returning here."

Ian's form was already fading, the Limbo pulling away.

"I might not have enough time," he called out.

Mara didn't look up. "You will. Things are different now."

Her voice lingered as Ian was drawn back to the waking world.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He jolted awake, heart racing.

For once, he didn't glance at the clock or the rune-covered scrap in his hand.

Instead, he immediately opened his status panel.

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