The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 72, Section 71: The Mystery of My Origins, the Cause of a Blood Debt [Second Update]

No accidents.

Ian, who went back to the common room to hide the box in his suitcase and then cast a concealment spell on it, completely missed the entire dinner time at Hogwarts.

A cold wind was blowing outside the castle.

Ian wasn't the kind of wizard who would choose to go hungry; the kitchen directly below the Great Hall could easily solve the problem.

However, he still chose to take a detour to the castle's basement first.

"Knock knock!"

Ian found his destination and knocked on the door.

No one responded.

"It's me, Professor Snape! I'm Ian, the one you personally chose for Potions class today!" Ian shouted into the office through the door.

"Click~"

After a while.

The office door was opened.

Snape, disheveled and expressionless, stood at the front door.

Behind him was a room as messy as his personal image, shaped like three huge hemispheres joined together, with shelves along the walls filled with all sorts of glass jars.

"Prince, it's almost bedtime. If you don't want to be caught and put in solitary confinement, the only place you can be right now is the Ravenclaw common room." The old bat emphasized the word "Ravenclaw," his sarcasm carrying a hint of lingering resentment.

"Can solitary confinement teach me something new? Something I can't learn from textbooks?" Ian looked up at Snape's green eyes, full of anticipation.

Snape's eye twitched. "If you can't get your attitude toward potions right, you'll never learn anything real from me."

His voice was as cold as ever.

"Then I'll apologize now and straighten out my attitude." Ian realized there was surprise in Snape's words, so he immediately stood outside the door, bent over at a ninety-degree angle, and held the position for several minutes.

This is the awe-inspiring spirit of craftsmanship.

Snape opened his mouth with a strange expression, but couldn't find the words to utter. He scrutinized Ian repeatedly, his complex eyes flickering slightly.

"If this is why you came here." Snape turned and went into the room, opened the drawer of his desk, and took out a very old-looking black book.

"Take this and get out of my office right now." He tossed the old book to Ian, who had followed him in, and said in an extremely curt tone.

"This book was originally intended for another purpose, but you've taken it away through shameless means. Therefore, for the final exam, you will receive a different set of questions than the other young wizards."

"If you don't satisfy me—humph." Snape used enough silence to create tension, but he couldn't see the effect he wanted from Ian.

"Who is the Half-Blood Prince?" Ian caught the book "Advanced Potions Making" that Snape tossed to him, and saw a small line of text in a prominent position on the back cover.

Is this the book that Harry Potter got?

Ian's feigned surprise caused Snape's face to visibly flush red.

"That's Prince, the mixed-race kid, you idiot!"

Snape stormed over, snatched the black book from Ian's hand, and used a quill pen on his desk to roughly erase the words on the back cover.

"I thought you were much smarter than your bastard father!" After repeatedly checking until he could no longer make out any writing, Snape shoved the "Advanced Potions Making" book back into Ian's hands.

"It belongs to my father?"

Ian asked the question he already knew the answer to.

He had always been wondering about his relationship with Snape, and now the answer seemed to have been revealed to him in a way he had never expected.

It turned out to be the case.

As expected...

Ian's suspicions were finally confirmed. Before evidence, some things remain mere conjectures, like castles in the air.

"Your father's troll head can only be as rote as you. This is one of my collection items, from a generation of outstanding potions masters in your family." Snape clearly underestimated the amount of information Ian possessed, and he shamelessly slipped in his own private information in front of Ian.

"Then Professor, didn't you just ruin a master's signature?" Ian's sudden remark left Snape, who had been wearing a mocking expression, speechless for a moment.

"I am better than him, so I am naturally qualified."

A very weak reason.

Ian pretended to believe him.

"If you spent more time in the library instead of discussing the creation of dangerous objects with some junior wizards, you would understand what kind of family you were born into."

Snape tried to change the subject, reverting to his slow, sarcastic tone, with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"I borrowed 'A Brief History of Hogwarts' Introductory Students,' but I haven't had a chance to look at it yet." Ian was certain from Snape's words that Snape was not his father.

"Are there any living people left in our family?"

His sudden, low voice startled Snape, causing him to pause slightly.

"If you did, do you think you'd still be in the orphanage?" Snape's expression was somewhat unnatural, and he avoided Ian's pale green eyes.

"Who did it?"

Ian has no memory of his parents in this life, but that doesn’t mean he can ignore it. The hatred of his family’s massacre still needs someone to take responsibility.

"Do what you're supposed to do, and study what you're supposed to study." Snape didn't answer Ian's question, but instead tried to drag Ian out of his office.

"etc!"

Ian stopped the door that Snape was about to close.

"I've already answered so many questions for you, aren't you satisfied, Mr. Nosy?" Snape looked down at Ian outside the door, his attitude even colder than before.

"I'm actually here to return the money to you." Ian said, pulling a large bag of gold coins from his pocket and stuffing it into Snape's hand under Snape's utterly bewildered gaze.

"You sold Felix Felicis?" Such a huge sum of money was the only thing Snape could think of. He felt that selling Felix Felicis was the kind of despicable thing Ian would do.

Snape stared intently at Ian.

Even though he saw Ian shaking his head in denial, his angry eyes were still full of disbelief.

"I'm not that stupid." To avoid incurring Snape's wrath, Ian had no choice but to show his trouser pockets and the few small pockets inside his robe.

There were still quite a few gold coins inside, glittering brightly.

"I've found the secret treasure of Hogwarts and achieved positive growth in my personal wealth." Ian lowered his voice, while Snape inside the door looked on incredulously.

Can you find hidden gold coins in Hogwarts?

How come he didn't know?

"I'll go and find out more about you. If I find out you've committed a shameful theft, or used magic to threaten other young wizards into handing over all their gold coins, I'll personally send you to Azkaban for imprisonment. You should have been there long ago." It's unclear what kind of image Ian held in Snape's mind.

"Don't you even know what the romantic legacy of the medieval treasure hunt is? How can finding treasure and gold coins be called stealing!" Ian had an urge to jump up and knock Snape on the head.

"That would be best."

Snape tried to hand the money pouch back to Ian, but Ian jumped back slightly to avoid it. Snape chuckled dismissively and tossed the pouch to Ian with a contemptuous look.

Do you think I'd care about such a small amount?

The Potions Master's confidence was indeed extraordinary; his extravagant attitude made him treat money like dirt. Little did he know, Ian had already gleaned practical experience in dealing with such a character.

"You think you can do me a favor for such a paltry sum? You wish!" Ian rolled the money pouch under Snape's arm into the office, his words causing the veins on Snape's forehead to bulge.

"Get out of here!"

Enraged, Snape slammed the door shut.

A few seconds later.

A gap appeared in the door, and the book "Advanced Potions Making," which had been accidentally dropped to the ground when Snape had somewhat rudely lifted Ian, was thrown out.

"!"

The door was slammed shut even harder.

"The Potions Family, Number One—"

Ian sighed softly, his expression hardening. He calmly picked up the precious book from the ground and stood there, staring at the area that Snape had completely erased.

"Was the massacre of my family after my birth orchestrated by Voldemort, or—?" He recalled Snape's unnatural words and actions from many moments earlier.

"My only remaining uncle."

An empty, deserted corridor.

Unable to respond to the little wizard's inner murmurs.

[P.S.: No more angst in the future, so read with confidence.]