Heaven and Earth Reversed!
Snape might be an expert in being hung upside down and getting others hung upside down, but there was no way he had the power to reverse cause and effect. Ian was convinced he had uncovered the truth.
Snape was a plagiarist!
This was definitely a massive piece of dirt on Professor Snape. Maybe it couldn't top his whole history with Lily Potter, but it was certainly enough to make him socially implode at Hogwarts.
It would be just like when a middle schooler's embarrassing online alias—"King's Scorn"—and signature—"Let the world know pain"—got exposed to the entire school.
"You look idiotically pleased."
The witch had no idea why Ian was grinning like an idiot.
"I just thought of something funny," Ian replied, quickly snapping out of it under her gaze.
"Threatening people makes you happy?"
Her gaze was as deep and cutting as ever, as though she saw straight through him.
"Professor Mara! And you said you couldn't read minds!"
Ian recoiled in dramatic shock again.
"You asked me about that line a moment ago, and now you're standing here grinning. Anyone with a brain could figure out what kind of plan you're scheming."
The witch rubbed her temples, clearly struggling to endure Ian's so-called "stupidity."
"Well then, tell me—who has my book?"
It seemed she still cared quite a bit about what was left of her legacy in the living world.
"It's one of my professors. Every year when he starts class, he opens with the exact line you wrote in that book."
Ian answered right away.
"The professor who teaches you Potions at that school called Hogwarts?" the witch asked lightly, her voice betraying little emotion as Ian nodded.
"Not exactly an insult."
The implication was clear.
It would take quite a lot to be worthy of her knowledge.
"Can potions really stop death?" Ian asked, voicing a question that had haunted many Hogwarts students for years.
"Of course. Just not by your professor." She laughed softly, her tone full of certainty that sparked curiosity.
"Why not?"
Ian pressed eagerly.
"Because I chopped down the last golden apple tree in the mortal world. And the primary ingredient for a potion that can stop death—or even reverse it—is the golden apple."
Mara's explanation was calm and patient. "Of course, if your professor were truly a genius, perhaps he could find an alternative ingredient in your world."
She said it as a technical possibility, but her tone dripped with disdain. She clearly had no faith in modern potion masters finding a viable substitute.
Ian didn't, either.
Let's be real—
If Snape could brew a potion to defy death, people wouldn't be joking about how all he did was bluster. Even in the original story, it was obvious that he couldn't.
Still—
Now that Ian knew the origin and era of that oft-repeated line, he finally understood where Snape's iconic intro had come from.
He couldn't do it.
But once upon a time… someone had.
"Professor Mara, why did you chop down the golden apple tree?" Ian had heard her mention cutting down a tree more than once, and he was curious whether that was tied to the obsession keeping her in the Limbo Mirage.
"Because I wanted to."
Mara smiled sweetly.
Her expression gave away nothing.
"Fair enough."
Ian knew better than to push any further.
"Potions are different from spells. Ingredients are constantly changing. If you want to study this art, you'll need to bring me some potion books from your time."
She smoothly changed the subject.
"Not ingredients?"
Ian blinked.
"My dear apprentice, I may have been dead a long time, but even in your era, potion ingredients are hardly cheap."
"So even if I needed them, could you afford them?"
Lies don't hurt.
The truth is the blade.
Ian's cheeks reddened slightly as she called out his lack of funds.
"Well… if it's something stocked at school, I can probably get a little," Ian admitted. He might be broke, but Hogwarts wasn't.
"Hmm, I'd rather not have you hunted down by your Potions professor."
As a master herself, she clearly understood how potion ingredients were sacred to potion-makers.
"Professor Snape's actually been kind to me. Maybe if I look especially pitiful and beg him, he'll lend me a few materials. I already owe him a bunch of money."
Ian scratched his head uncertainly.
"He's that good to you, and you're still planning to blackmail him? Tsk tsk. You really do have a bit of a dark wizard's mindset."
Mara gave him a curious look.
"..."
Ian didn't know how to explain it.
Having dirt on someone was like having a nuke—you didn't have to use it, but having it was always better than not.
"Alright, I'll stop teasing."
Mara waved it off with a grin. "Don't underestimate your teacher. I may not have kept up with the field, but all I need are some modern books…"
"And before long, I'll be up to date—and then far beyond it."
Her overwhelming confidence radiated from every word. Mara's pride was on full display.
Ian couldn't help but feel fired up.
Who wouldn't want a teacher this cool?
The stronger the teacher,
The more a student could learn.
He felt like he could already see a bright future ahead.
"All praise to you, Professor Mara!"
Ian burst into applause, throwing in some well-placed flattery.
"Heh. You'll go far."
The witch smiled, offering her own assessment.
"Of course! After all, I have such an amazing teacher!"
Ian jumped to respond.
Smooth as butter.
However—
"I meant your talent for flattery. It'll take you far on the path to power."
Still smiling, Mara delivered the line like a dagger in silk.
Was that a compliment?
Did not sound like one.
"Genuine praise from the heart—how could that be called flattery…" Ian widened his eyes with feigned sincerity, as though shocked she'd suggest such a thing.
"See? What did I say? So much potential."
Mara clearly wasn't buying it.
Even Ian, normally thick-skinned, felt a bit embarrassed.
"Study magic well. Once you're strong enough, you won't need to wear a mask."
The witch offered her parting wisdom, words laced with meaning.
"I understand."
Ian's expression turned serious.
"Well then, my dim-witted apprentice… let's begin with something simple."
Mara suddenly stood from the bench, her long legs carrying her elegantly toward Ian.
"You're far too weak right now."
Standing beside him, she towered over him by a full head, radiating the kind of natural authority that made Ian instinctively shrink back.
"I don't have a wand."
Ian admitted nervously.
"A wand is just a tool."
She looked at Ian's uncertain expression and sighed.
"Your era… truly bizarre," she muttered. Then, she raised her hand and snapped off the metal frame of a nearby painting.
In the next instant—
No incantation.
No flourish.
Nothing at all.
The metal twisted as she passed it to Ian, reshaping into a standard wand before his eyes—though he couldn't tell what wood it was made from.
"Magic?"
Ian stared in awe.
"Knowledge."
Her voice was calm and steady.
Even as Ian tried to figure out whether this mysterious teacher was conning him, she had already stepped behind him, one finger touching the back of his head.
"Let's start with something simple."
The words had barely left her lips—
When Ian was seized by a cold, terrifying chill.
"Feel this killing intent."
Her voice was soft, but Ian immediately sensed something was off.
What kind of "simple" magic involved sensing killing intent?!
"Focus—and repeat after me…"
As Mara's fingertip pressed to the back of his head, some kind of emotion pulsed through his mind. Ian felt a violent surge rising within him.
"Avada Kedavra."
In the opulent hall,
Fire flickered in the hearth.
And the witch passed on her first spell to her student.
(End of Chapter)