Movies were just movies in the end.
Limited by special effects and camera work, they could only show the tip of the iceberg of what Diagon Alley truly was.
Now, stepping foot into it himself—
Ian realized it was nothing like the "county market" some joked about, nor some dilapidated relic of a bygone age. It was the most vibrant gathering place of witches and wizards in all the British Isles.
"It's… magical."
Ian couldn't help the awe in his voice.
He didn't even feel the nausea that usually accompanied one's first time Apparating—likely thanks to the greenish potion Snape had made him drink, which, surprisingly, tasted better than milk.
He never imagined Snape could be so… thoughtful.
It overturned Ian's entire perception of the professor's character, and inevitably reminded him again of Dumbledore's words.
Just what kind of debt…
Could cause Snape to act in such a way that defied his nature?
"Could it be that my parents in this life… were killed during some mission while he was a Death Eater?" Ian pondered, thoughts racing.
Just then—
"Keep up."
Snape had already let go of Ian's collar and was striding ahead without looking back. Ian hurriedly dragged his oversized suitcase and followed.
The street bustled with wizards and witches. Snape never looked back, yet always kept a pace just right—fast enough to get through the crowd, slow enough that Ian wouldn't get lost.
"Professor, where are we going? The bank?" Ian asked curiously.
"That's Gringotts," Snape replied curtly. "Don't use your foolish Muggle mindset to interpret the wizarding world's systems."
His tone was cold, but still served as a warning.
"Rein in your mind. Everyone here is a wizard. Don't expect leniency just because you're a child. A dark wizard might snatch you up for their experiments at any moment."
Classic Snape—threats and menace delivered with a smooth drawl. But Ian knew: he was warning him not to use [Thought Perception] so casually around others.
"I'll try…"
Ian attempted to clear his thoughts. Suppressing [Thought Perception] wasn't easy, but not focusing too hard did help dampen the ability somewhat.
To distract himself, Ian turned his attention to the magical creatures coexisting with witches and wizards.
Beyond the fantastic beasts,
There were also creatures like giants and goblins from fairy tales—things that truly existed in this magical world. He couldn't help wondering just how ugly real goblins might be.
But Snape didn't take him to Gringotts.
"Give me all first-year Hogwarts textbooks."
Their first stop was Flourish and Blotts.
This bookstore likely had a pure-blood family behind it; after all, they monopolized the entire British wizarding textbook market.
Just like in his previous life—schools assigning students to specific bookstores for textbooks—it was hard to believe no shady deals were involved behind the scenes.
"Yes, Professor Snape."
The clerk, clearly familiar with Hogwarts faculty, looked almost nervous in Snape's presence. Maybe he was a former student?
"I don't even know what books I need… I never even got my Hogwarts letter." Ian muttered quietly behind Snape.
"You really care that much about a useless piece of parchment?"
Snape gave him another sidelong look.
"I just feel like something's missing," Ian replied, blinking.
"Hah. How sentimental."
Snape sneered and pulled a crumpled letter from his robes, tossing it toward Ian like it was trash.
Ian hastily caught it.
On the top, emblazoned in the center, were a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a serpent forming the letter "H."
His Hogwarts acceptance letter.
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Order of Merlin, First Class)
Dear Mr. Prince,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.
Deputy Headmistress,
Minerva McGonagall
…The back included a long appendix of supplies and books for new students. Ian gave it a quick scan and got the general idea.
"Happy now, Mr. Fuss?" Snape's voice was still that long, lazy drawl—he'd even given Ian an annoying new nickname.
"I was kind of hoping to see one of the school's owls," Ian grumbled.
"Better to set aside vain expectations and focus on learning useful skills—so you don't end up like those pathetic Hufflepuffs," Snape said dryly.
Just then, a clerk came over with a large stack of books.
Judging by his expression—aggrieved but silent—Snape's words probably weren't just aimed at Ian.
The man really did have a horrible personality.
"Thank you," Ian said sincerely, not wanting to be lumped in with Snape and earn any grudges.
"Don't listen to him," the clerk whispered as he crouched down to pass Ian the books. "Hufflepuff has produced many great witches and wizards—like Newt Scamander, author of Fantastic Beasts. It's an honor to be a Hufflepuff."
"I think so too," Ian smiled and whispered back.
The clerk beamed, patting Ian on the head.
"That'll be fifteen Galleons," the cashier called out.
Before Ian could react, Snape stepped forward, pulled out a coin pouch, and paid.
"Is this… a student loan, Professor?" Ian joked, still hoping to make his own withdrawal at Gringotts.
"That's none of your concern."
Snape's response was frosty.
After paying, he noticed Ian struggling to fit the stack of books into his already full suitcase. With a flick of his wand, Snape cast a spell on the clothes and odds and ends inside.
"Reducio."
In an instant, Ian's clutter shrank down, and the books slipped easily into the case.
"That's amazing!" Ian exclaimed.
"Just a warning," Snape muttered, "The spell wears off in 24 hours. If you don't unpack everything by then… heh, you won't like what happens."
With that, he turned and strode out of the shop.
Ian hurried after him.
Honestly, with the spell, the suitcase felt way lighter—it was like Newton's laws no longer applied. Conservation of mass? Who needs it!
He loved it.
And his desire to learn magic only burned brighter.
"Professor! Wait!"
He had to jog to keep up.
They went on to purchase the rest of Ian's school supplies—and at every stop, Snape paid without complaint.
Even when buying a cauldron, the shopkeeper initially pulled out a standard first-year set.
But Snape instructed him to switch it for a brass one instead.
More expensive. Much more expensive.
"But the letter says to get a pewter, standard size 2 cauldron," Ian said uncertainly, clutching his letter.
Snape responded with a sharp sneer.
"So now, Mr. Prince thinks he knows better than the Potions Master himself?"
That venomous tone shut Ian up fast.
If Snape hadn't been footing the bill, Ian might've mustered the courage to talk back. But instead—
He just grew more confused.
Could Snape really have killed Ian's parents during his time as a Death Eater?
Was that why he seemed so unusually generous?
No matter how hard he thought about it—
He couldn't figure it out.
(End of Chapter)