Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

Roughly three hours had passed, and under Professor Snape's watchful eye, Ian had managed to acquire most of the items he'd need for his first year at Hogwarts.

The required list wasn't particularly extensive: essential textbooks, basic Potions and Herbology supplies, three plain work robes, a pointed hat for daytime wear, and a pair of protective gloves. While these items were straightforward enough, Snape's approach to shopping was anything but ordinary.

The gloves, for instance, could be made of any material comparable to dragonhide. Yet Snape went above and beyond, purchasing a pair crafted from Hungarian Horntail dragonhide—an outrageously expensive option with unrivaled protective qualities.

Since Ian didn't have a single Knut to his name, he had no say in these purchases. He could only watch as Snape, without hesitation, pulled out his coin pouch to cover the costs. To Ian's credit, he'd left the bulk of his savings with Mrs. Elena to help his younger siblings make it through the winter. He had set aside a modest amount of pounds for himself, intending to exchange them at Gringotts for wizarding currency. However, Snape showed no intention of taking Ian to the goblin-run bank.

And so, Ian, clutching a currency useless in the magical world, could only watch as Snape decided on everything he'd need for school. What stood out most, though, was the extravagance of the items Snape chose. Many were far more luxurious than the standard items on the school's required list. Yet every time Ian dared to question the professor's selections, Snape silenced him with his trademark sarcasm.

"Expensive things are expensive for a reason," Snape would say, his tone dripping with disdain.

Ian, lacking the confidence—or the courage—to argue with the intimidating professor, could only watch as Snape finalized the purchases. Still, each time Snape reached into his coin pouch, Ian's curiosity grew. This didn't align with the Snape he thought he knew.

In many fanfiction stories Ian had come across, Snape was often depicted as a charismatic yet deeply flawed wizard. At Hogwarts, his reputation as a professor wasn't exactly stellar. His sharp tongue and blatant favoritism towards Slytherin earned him no shortage of criticism. Yet during this trip to Diagon Alley, Ian couldn't help but notice Snape's meticulous attention to detail—especially when it came to Ian's education.

The cauldron? Top-tier brass, worth dozens of Galleons.

The robes and gloves? The finest quality available.

Even the textbooks were brand-new editions, with not a single discount applied. These weren't the kinds of items a typical Hogwarts financial aid package could cover. In fact, every purchase Snape made was top-tier, luxurious, and far beyond the means of an average first-year student.

Ian's skepticism deepened.

Hogwarts' financial aid program couldn't possibly support this level of spending. If it could, the economic ripple effects across the wizarding world would be monumental. Consider Ron Weasley—a pureblood wizard who would undoubtedly qualify for financial aid. By his second year, Ron was still using a hand-me-down wand from his brother, and Ginny Weasley started her first year with second-hand supplies. If Hogwarts' aid program was so generous, why were the Weasleys—a family of pureblood wizards—so strapped for resources?

Ian couldn't shake the feeling that Snape's extravagance wasn't simply a matter of school funding.

What kind of guilt could Snape possibly harbor that would prompt him to spend so lavishly on me? Ian wondered. If his parents weren't already gone, he'd feel too embarrassed to even accept those dragonhide gloves.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Ian finally blurted out, "Professor, is Hogwarts really this committed to this degree of support?"

Snape barely spared him a glance, his expression as cold and impenetrable as ever.

"As a student, you'd do well to focus on how you'll absorb knowledge at Hogwarts rather than waste your time pondering pointless matters," Snape retorted sharply.

With that, he turned and strode briskly toward their next destination.

***

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.

The legendary wand shop. The sole establishment of its kind in Diagon Alley—and likely all of Britain. Time had not been kind to its façade; the shop's weathered, unassuming appearance gave no indication of the magical legends it had birthed. Compared to the grandeur of Gringotts or the bustling energy of Flourish and Blotts, Ollivanders seemed utterly ordinary. Yet its significance was unparalleled.

Some businesses transcended time and power, much like ancient noble families. Their legacies endured, unaffected by the rise and fall of empires. Ollivanders was one such institution.

"This is the final stop," Snape announced curtly. Though his willingness to spend had been surprising, his words and demeanor remained as sparse as ever.

Ian's heart raced as he stared at the shop's faded sign. A mix of excitement and nervousness filled his gaze. It was hard to blame him. After all, beyond Harry Potter and the ever-lovely Hermione, this place ranked among the most mysterious locales in the wizarding world.

***

The entire Harry Potter saga was steeped in prophecy, and Ollivanders held a uniquely unsettling role in that narrative. It was here that Harry's eventual triumph over Voldemort had been foreshadowed. The shop had witnessed Dumbledore's demise.

Unlike other prophecies, which often carried an air of theatrical ambiguity, the destinies revealed by wand pairings at Ollivanders carried an eerie sense of certainty. Even the most powerful wizards, like Dumbledore and Voldemort, couldn't escape the destinies their wands foretold.

Ian couldn't help but shiver at the thought. Who else but Ollivander could make such creepily mysterious predictions?

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