Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

It was obvious.

Snape intended to recreate the peculiar scene Ian had described, determined to expose his claims as nothing more than ridiculous fabrications.

However, Ian remained unfazed.

While Snape's recorded spell wasn't as advanced as the annotations Grindelwald had left in Secrets of Advanced Dark Magic, it was clearly not a particularly difficult spell to master.

"Is this dark magic?" Ian read through the notes carefully.

He didn't grasp the entire spell at once.

Perhaps it wasn't dark enough?

Having acknowledged his own aptitude for Dark Arts, Ian mused on this thought.

At that moment—

"Still putting on an act..."

Snape was merely waiting for Ian to admit defeat.

While Ian was engrossed in reading, Snape pulled out his wand. With a flick of his wrist, the stacked wooden planks in the corner began to assemble into coffins, and the scattered corpses, guided by an invisible force, floated into their respective caskets beneath the shrouds of oilcloth.

Swish—

One by one, the coffins were buried in the soil.

The dirt piled inside the house was drawn back into the ground as if time itself was reversing.

In mere minutes, the entire room was restored to its previous state.

What Ian had struggled with for an entire afternoon was completed effortlessly in moments through magic. The corpses were laid to rest without the need to be packed together in a single coffin.

Had Ian not summoned them so forcefully, causing them to break free from their original graves, he wouldn't have had to reconstruct coffins to compensate for the damage. 

One could say he had a conscience.

But not much of one.

After all, nailing coffins shut was an exhausting task. Ian had simply wanted to save time by burying multiple corpses together. In the end, they had still found a new home, hadn't they?

"Mr. Prince, I do not have time for your stalling."

Having finished tidying up the mess, Snape's expression turned dark as he reminded Ian, who was standing in the corner.

"Professor, this spell of yours—it's a Dark spell, isn't it?" Ian asked again with apparent hesitation.

"Obviously."

Snape narrowed his eyes at him.

"Will I get into trouble if I learn it?" Ian continued.

Snape's face twisted with irritation.

"You weren't worried about trouble when you learned the Corpse Control Curse, were you?" Snape sneered, his eyes piercing into Ian with a knowing gaze. "Don't try to give me ridiculous excuses as a pretense for failure. Didn't you just pick up a random scrap of paper and, out of sheer curiosity, master the Corpse Control Curse?"

"That wasn't even proper Dark Magic. Given how excessively you boast about yourself, I'd think a minor spell like this wouldn't pose a challenge for a so-called 'magical genius' like you."

Snape put particular emphasis on the words "magical genius," his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm not making excuses, Professor. You've misunderstood me." Ian blinked and glanced at his status panel, where a new level-one skill had just been added.

"I was merely thinking..."

Ian drew his wand and pointed it at the remaining stack of wooden planks.

"Sectumsempra!"

He murmured softly, and as the words left his lips, an imperceptible ripple spread through the air. An invisible blade, as if guided by an unseen force, slashed through the space before him like a ghostly sword. Anything in its path was shredded into fragments.

A piercing shrrkk! filled the room.

Splinters and dust burst into the air, scattering like rain.

"It wasn't that difficult to learn."

Covered in flecks of wood, Ian casually dusted himself off, offering Snape an apologetic smile.

"Perhaps, Professor, you should pick a more difficult spell. That way, I might actually fail, and you'd get to witness my frustration and despair."

His voice brimmed with anticipation, as though he was genuinely considering Snape's feelings.

However, no response came.

Across the room, Snape's sneer had frozen on his face.

A strange silence settled in the air.

"Professor?"

Ian pressed further, unwilling to let it drop.

"Really, just a little difficult, and I promise—I won't be able to learn it."

His thirst for knowledge was so pure that even when he lied, his words carried an unsettling sincerity.

"..."

Snape's head was now dusted with wooden splinters. His greasy hair caused the bits to cling stubbornly to him, but it was clear he had no mind to fix his appearance.

"What the hell are you!?"

Snape's face twitched violently.

"As you can see, I nearly failed."

Ian feigned a look of lingering fear.

Just like his earlier absurd explanation.

But Snape wasn't taking the bait.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the professor—who could spend half an hour mocking someone without repeating himself—found himself speechless.

Who could have expected this?

A boy he had only recently taken from an orphanage.

A boy who had only just acquired his wand days ago.

Had actually proven him wrong.

And not just that. In less than twenty minutes, he had single-handedly validated his outrageous claim of "self-taught proficiency."

Was he even human?

What was this monstrosity?!

Even Voldemort himself would have gone speechless at this point!

Snape's expression turned dazed.

"Professor, professor, have you decided yet? I suggest no more Dark Magic. How about testing me with Fiendfyre instead?" Ian chirped enthusiastically.

"Shut up!"

Snape just needed a moment to breathe.

For Merlin's sake!

Fiendfyre?!

Could this little rat be any more audacious?!

"Alright, alright..." Ian shrank back slightly.

Snape, still grappling with the sheer disbelief of the situation, took a long moment to compose himself. He scrutinized the boy before him, reevaluating Ian's claims.

Perhaps.

Perhaps there had been a scrap of parchment left behind by a Dark wizard?

"Where is this paper you found?"

Snape refused to admit his misjudgment so easily.

"Gone. Last night was a mess—corpses crawling everywhere—I have no idea where the paper ended up." Ian instantly adopted a regretful expression.

"You are not to speak of last night. Or today. To anyone!" Snape ordered, his face a storm of complex emotions. He no longer pressed for the paper's whereabouts.

Beyond the shock and disbelief, there was something else in his gaze—concern.

Displaying such remarkable magical talent at a time like this was dangerous.

Voldemort was returning.

Grindelwald's disciples and descendants were stirring near Hogwarts.

A thought struck Snape like lightning.

Perhaps.

Perhaps the scrap Ian had found belonged to one of Grindelwald's followers? A note intended for a future Dark wizard's apprentice?

The more he pondered, the more plausible it seemed.

Unknowingly.

Snape's hesitancy began to wane.

Because he had seen it with his own eyes—

Ian's talent was utterly unfathomable.

"Term starts soon. You will not use that spell on any of your classmates. Not even on those who provoke you!"

Snape already regretted teaching him Sectumsempra.

Who could have predicted this?

He had actually learned it!!

"Of course, Professor. I always seek peace and harmony."

Ian nodded eagerly.

Snape's words were etched into his memory.

After all—

Snape had only forbidden him from using Sectumsempra on classmates.

But he hadn't said anything about using the Corpse Control Curse on their ancestors' graves.

Surely, this was the Professor's tacit approval!