Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

Maybe I can use the Dreamscape for smuggling!

Only those who've truly been broke understand the sheer importance of money. And for Ian, that was the first outrageous idea that popped into his mind. If he could somehow exploit the Dreamscape for smuggling, who could possibly stop him from raking in mountains of Galleons?

Not the Aurors. Not even Muggle law enforcement. What were they going to do—chase him into his dreams?

The more he thought about it, the more brilliant the idea seemed. Sure, he could only enter the Limbo once a week, limiting his operations, but that just meant he needed to focus on high-value items.

Dragon eggs?

Dragon corpses?

Maybe even rob Gringotts itself!

Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration.

While the idea of becoming an interdimensional smuggler was tempting, Ian had enough sense to realize that wasn't what the witch meant by something "even greater." As revolutionary as his money-making scheme seemed, most wizards cared little for Galleons compared to power and knowledge.

It's not about bringing things in, Ian mused, frowning slightly. But I can't take anything out either...

Before he could spiral further into his thoughts, the witch interrupted, her voice cutting through like a sharp blade.

"Enough, my apprentice. You're not strong enough to linger here endlessly, and frankly, I don't enjoy watching you squat like you're constipated."

Ian winced. No matter how regal or mysterious she seemed, Mara always managed to shatter his inner thoughts with her bluntness.

"I was just contemplating your words, Professor Mara," he muttered defensively.

"Contemplate in the real world. You'll have plenty of time for that," she replied, waving her hand lazily. From the wall beside her, a ripple of liquid silver cascaded toward Ian, solidifying into the familiar shape of a wand in his palm.

"Now, show me what you've learned."

She turned her gaze toward the ornate kitchen, where a roasted pig—yes, a whole roasted pig—hovered into the room. It still emitted faint squeals, as if it hadn't accepted its fate as dinner.

Ian blinked. Was that pig... alive?

"I hope you haven't been slacking off," Mara said, resting her chin on her hand, her tone dripping with lazy indifference.

Understanding the unspoken challenge, Ian took aim with his wand.

"Fear Descent!"

A grayish beam shot from his wand, striking the squealing pig. Instantly, it erupted into terrified shrieks, flailing wildly as if facing its worst nightmare.

Even the enchanted furniture shuddered.

"Not bad," Mara remarked, her lips curling into a rare smile.

"All thanks to your flawless teaching," Ian quipped, not missing a beat.

Mara chuckled, clearly enjoying the praise. "Runic magic isn't easy. To master this spell in just seven days is impressive—even by the standards of my time."

Ian's grin widened. Compliments were one thing he never tired of.

"Exceptional wizards require exceptional teachers. I'm lucky to have you," he added smoothly, noting how Mara seemed to thrive on acknowledgment.

"Naturally," she replied, her pride unrestrained. "I mastered this spell in just two days. I always knew I was destined for greatness. History, of course, proved me right."

Ian wisely kept his mouth shut, resisting the urge to point out the humblebrag. Instead, he listened as she continued.

"The runes I left in your notes contained subtle guides. The fact that you grasped them means you've unlocked a deeper understanding of runic application. This will save you time with future spells."

With another flick of her hand, the roasted pig ceased its squealing, returning to its lifeless, appetizing form before zooming back to the kitchen.

"Mastering a spell is commendable, but understanding the magic beneath is what truly matters. Runes are the key to that understanding. At least, they are to me."

Ian nodded solemnly, absorbing her words.

Mara leaned forward slightly, as if about to delve into another lesson. "Regarding potions, we—"

She never finished.

Suddenly, the air outside the grand hall erupted with chaotic noises.

"There he is!"

"Ian's in there! I knew it! That evil woman has him!"

"I don't think she's evil… but those armored guards are terrifying!"

"Don't be scared! They're basically made of cardboard! Watch me take down three—no, four—at once!"

CRASH!

Ian froze, recognizing the voices instantly.

He turned to Mara, whose once serene expression had twisted into something dark and furious—an expression even Snape might have envied.

Before Ian could utter a word, the doors blasted open.

"Ah, the doors opened? Shame. You missed witnessing my heroic entrance!" announced a boy clad in ragged linen, striding in with the confidence of a conquering general.

Beside him, a pale, timid girl peeked around nervously, her wide eyes scanning the unfamiliar grandeur.

Ian gawked.

Pandero and Arianna?

His heart swelled with surprise and relief. But while Ian was thrilled, Mara was boiling in anger.

"You damned little butcher! Do you think I'm afraid of you?!" she roared, her voice echoing like a wrathful storm.

Ian couldn't help but notice… for all her fury, there was a distinct lack of conviction in her voice.

Oh boy, he thought, bracing for whatever madness would follow next.