10: Where Dreams Begin

The city was draped in a delicate veil. London’s fog seemed to hang like layers of sheer fabric in the air.

On the quiet streets, Ian remained immersed in the sadness of parting. Although he had long awaited the chance to truly learn magic, the moment he finally left the orphanage to pursue his studies, he still felt a deep reluctance to leave this place and the people here behind. After all, this was where he had lived for eleven years since his arrival in this world.

“Heh, it seems, Mr. Prince, you certainly know how to win people over,” Severus Snape’s voice broke the heavy silence. For some reason, despite the seemingly straightforward words, his slow, deliberate tone always carried a hint of sarcasm.

Ian did not respond. He simply dragged his suitcase and followed behind Snape. His mood was low, and he had little desire to devote energy to dealing with the professor before him. After all, no matter how well-behaved a student was, it would not earn favor from Hogwarts’ potions master.

Faced with Ian’s silence, Snape spoke again. “Leaving all your money to them is hardly the act of a wise person.” Clearly, Ian’s earlier subtle actions had not escaped the keen eyes of this wizard.

“I kept a little to... exchange at the appropriate place for currency in the magical world,” Ian glanced up at Snape, whose demeanor seemed at odds with his usual quiet reticence. “Aren’t you usually taciturn?”

“That’s not too foolish, then,” Snape snorted through his nose.

“You do realize you’re just an orphan being cared for here, right?” Snape slowed his pace, squinting at Ian beside him.

“When I was young, my health was poor—probably due to the awakening of magic, I was quite frail,” Ian did not answer Snape’s question directly. “Miss Elena would take me to the city hospital. Back then, the orphanage’s finances were much worse than now, yet she still bought me expensive medicine.”

“The food at the orphanage was scarce too. When I was ill, Catherine would split her bread with me, and Daniel would go out searching for wild herbs on my behalf.”

“Although Daniel’s grandmother, a witch doctor, had died from her own concoctions, it didn’t stop him from believing that if I took his medicine, I’d grow strong.”

“And Mia, a child even younger than me, would pray to God for me all through the night whenever I was sick. Everyone treated me with such kindness.”

Ian’s voice was calm and gentle.

“Tsk, tsk, are you trying to move me?” Snape remained unmoved.

“No, Professor,” Ian replied softly, not expecting Snape to understand his feelings. He had heard that those who became Death Eaters knew nothing of love, so he tried explaining it to Snape from a different angle.

“They cared for me so much, so when I’m able, I must consider them in return,” Ian said firmly. “It’s my rightful responsibility.”

The youthful voice echoed down the empty streets, and the small figure trailing behind Snape’s black robes lingered in the mist. His calm words left the potions master silent for a long moment.

---

“Tsk, tsk, you’re young but full of principles—worrying about things you shouldn’t,” Snape sneered after a long pause.

“Though an anonymous benefactor has been donating generously over the years, the purchasing power of pounds has dropped sharply lately. Without that money, life here would be very difficult.”

Ian’s daily street vending, aside from improving his psychology skills, was also to earn a little extra to ease the burden on Miss Elena, the headmistress. Even without Hogwarts in the picture, that money would eventually turn into eggs, milk, vegetables, and meat—things he would bring back to the orphanage by other means.

Honestly, an eleven-year-old child didn’t spend much on himself. Ian was no saint, but he was certainly no ungrateful brat.

“So, you want me to call you the orphanage’s savior?” Snape glanced sideways at Ian, his slow tone provoking the urge to punch him.

“No, Professor. If you showed some generosity and donated to the orphanage, *then* you’d be the real savior, the true hero.”

Indeed.

After all his rambling, Ian’s true intention finally showed. He turned his big, green eyes toward Snape, thinking that his eyes, much like Lily Potter’s, might have some influence.

Moreover, though Ian still didn’t understand what Dumbledore had meant earlier, from his perceptive thoughts, he could clearly sense Snape’s guilt.

If he could leverage that to get Snape to donate some money, it would be a blessing for the orphanage—Ian’s meager earnings could only last so long.

And the Snape standing before him, Hogwarts’ potions master, could easily provide far more than a few coins that would greatly benefit the orphanage.

One should never underestimate the financial clout of a master potion-maker.

“You really are a...” Snape stopped walking, his dark eyes fixed on Ian with a sharp and inscrutable intensity.

“A worthy Slytherin.”

Clearly, Snape saw through Ian’s little ploy instantly and understood exactly what Ian hoped to achieve with his emotional appeal.

“Too bad you don’t know me. I’m no good person. I wouldn’t donate a single knut to a ridiculous Muggle orphanage,” Snape sneered.

With Ian’s disappointed look, Snape resumed walking, leading him into a deserted alley.

“Drink this,” Snape said abruptly, producing a bottle of bubbling green potion.

The tone left no room for refusal.

---

“Hm?”

Ian, dragging his suitcase, blinked in surprise as he stared at the bubbling green potion. He swallowed nervously and gave a sheepish smile.

“Professor, what is this...?”

He suspected the professor might be trying to poison him. Even if it wasn’t lethal, it would likely leave a psychological scar. Everyone knew potions in the magical world were notoriously foul-tasting.

“You don’t think I’d want to harm you, so I’d have to trick you into drinking a potion, do you?” Snape looked at Ian with a disdainful glare.

Well, that made sense.

“It just tastes... not very good,” Ian replied weakly.

But Snape didn’t move, staring expressionlessly at him.

“Fine, fine,” Ian gritted his teeth, took the potion, and swallowed it all in one gulp—wait? The aftertaste wasn’t bitter at all. Instead, it was sweet, like coconut milk, smooth and delicious!

That couldn’t be right.

Wasn’t Snape’s potions supposed to be one of the worst-tasting in existence?

Ian was still savoring the potion’s flavor when Snape suddenly grabbed him by the neck with one hand and waved his wand with the other, casting a Disillusionment Charm. The two figures vanished instantly from the alley.

Ian’s vision blurred for a moment.

When it cleared, everything around him had transformed utterly.

Before him stretched a cobblestone street seemingly endless, lined with an array of diverse shops. People dressed in strange, lavish garments laughed and played in the street.

Feather dusters swept by themselves; brooms cleaned the streets unattended. Owls, snakes, mice—various creatures perched obediently on the shoulders of wizards.

Scenes Ian had only seen in movies now unfolded before his eyes with a grandeur dozens of times more breathtaking than any film.

He knew.

This was Diagon Alley.

Here, like many others, was where his dream began.