Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

 Hogwarts.

This majestic castle, with its towering spires, labyrinthine corridors, and the omnipresent hum of magic, stood as the dream of countless young witches and wizards.

Its outer walls, built from colossal gray stones, had weathered centuries of storms yet remained unyielding, as if each stone had borne witness to generations of magical growth and triumphs.

Spacious halls, winding staircases, a library brimming with ancient tomes—and, of course, the unique headmaster's office—these were the childhood memories etched into the hearts of many witches and wizards, unforgettable even in the twilight of their years.

Every new school year, the castle would stir from its quiet slumber, filled with life once again.

"Fawkes, you've been flying out quite a lot these days. Is there something out there that has piqued your interest?" Dumbledore mused, his gaze following the fiery silhouette of his phoenix as it soared gracefully through the window.

The castle was unusually silent, owing to the summer break.

Most students were away, and even many professors had returned to their homes… except, perhaps, for those like Snape and Dumbledore.

Not because they had nowhere else to go.

But because they no longer felt the warmth of what one would call home.

Trill~

Fawkes let out a clear, melodious cry, the sound echoing through the empty office.

"School will start soon. Try not to startle the new students with your sudden appearances," Dumbledore chuckled, gently smoothing the ruffled feathers on Fawkes's neck—one of his few simple pleasures.

For Snape, staying at Hogwarts felt no different from staying anywhere else.

For Dumbledore, it was the only place he had the courage to face.

Yes, courage.

Many saw only the brilliance and might of Albus Dumbledore, seldom recognizing the profound loneliness hidden beneath his many accolades.

When a Gryffindor loses their courage, it is proof that they have fallen into an abyss, utterly lost.

"If you're truly eager for something to do, perhaps you could help me search for the Chamber of Secrets again," Dumbledore said lightly, though he knew Fawkes could understand him, even if he didn't speak Phoenix.

Trill! Trill!

Fawkes chirped in agreement.

Dumbledore smiled softly, sensing the phoenix's response more through emotion than words.

"Thank you, old friend."

He offered a small treat, which Fawkes disdainfully ignored, instead letting out another sharp cry, this time toward the castle gates.

"Severus."

Dumbledore looked up to see Snape entering the castle, his face clouded with heavy thoughts. Judging by the direction he'd come from, Dumbledore had a fair idea of where he'd been.

"So, you finally went to visit the poor boy," Dumbledore remarked, disappearing from the office window and reappearing beside Snape in the corridor—a feat achieved through Fawkes's magical powers.

Though the castle's enchantments could restrict many forms of magical travel, Dumbledore seldom broke Hogwarts' ancient rules unless absolutely necessary.

"That damn child is anything but poor," Snape snapped, visibly startled but quickly regaining his composure. The memory of what he'd just witnessed clearly unsettled him.

Dark magic, he thought bitterly. How could that be done by a poor?

"You always suppress your emotions, Severus. That child needs your care," Dumbledore said softly, his voice carrying that inexplicable power to soothe and guide.

Many believed Dumbledore simply used Snape or pitied him. The truth was far more complex: Dumbledore saw his own past reflected in Severus Snape.

Their circumstances differed, but their pain was kindred.

Both had pursued dangerous ambitions.

Both had been forced to awaken from tragic mistakes.

But unlike Dumbledore, Snape still had a chance at redemption.

"I admit I was harsh before. He has no one else. If even you reject him, he'll be left completely alone in this world," Dumbledore added gently, hoping to inspire in Snape the compassion he himself could never fully reclaim.

Snape's eyes flickered with a rare vulnerability.

Uncharacteristically, he didn't argue.

"Ian is a child capable of love. Don't let him grow up without it," Dumbledore urged, his tone shifting from gentle persuasion to heartfelt plea. He was thinking not just of Ian, but of Snape as well.

Snape hesitated, his expression conflicted.

"He's doing fine in Hogsmeade. He seems perfectly… adapted to wizarding life," Snape muttered, though his words felt strained, as if masking deeper concerns.

Dumbledore smiled knowingly.

"If he can take care of others, he certainly knows how to look after himself," Dumbledore replied, having done his own thorough investigation into Ian's background.

"Ha! That reckless brat looks after himself too well!" Snape grumbled, his teeth clenched as memories of the boy's exploits raised his blood pressure.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Dumbledore chuckled softly, clearly unaware of the full extent of Ian's antics.

Snape shot him a strange look but said nothing more, shaking his head as he moved to leave.

He had a cauldron of potions simmering that required his attention.

"Perhaps you should bring him here, to the castle, to live with you," Dumbledore suggested as Snape walked away.

"I'd rather not die of a heart attack," Snape replied coldly, his robes billowing dramatically as he strode down the corridor.

Then, as if reconsidering something, he stopped.

Turning back, he called out, "Albus."

Dumbledore remained where he was, his phoenix perched elegantly on his arm.

"When did you learn advanced composite spells? How long did it take you?" Snape asked, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

The question surprised Dumbledore.

"Though the world tends to exaggerate my magical prowess, I merely had a slight aptitude," Dumbledore replied modestly, though it was hardly the full truth.

"If my memory serves me, I believe it was during my second year. It took me an entire afternoon. Not the usual curriculum for someone that age, mind you," he added thoughtfully.

For most wizards, this would have been Dumbledore's humblebrag moment.

But Snape's response was unexpected.

"Well. Seems some has surpassed you already," Snape muttered, not out of mockery but with genuine exasperation. His frown deepened as he turned to leave, visibly troubled.

Dumbledore stood there, puzzled.

Then, realization dawned.

Behind the twinkle of his glasses, his eyes flashed with something rare and unsettling—

Shock… Excitement!