The sun rises and the moon sets, time flows.
Hogwarts Village always seems so tranquil and peaceful.
The trees outside the village are lush with leaves, vines named time winding around their trunks, Ian, holding a newly bought axe, is continuously chopping down a tree that's not particularly thick.
"Little Ian, do you need my help?"
The owner of Lady Puddifoot's tea shop, Lady Puddifoot, happens to return from outside the village, she is plump, with shiny black hair tied in a bun behind her head.
Seeing little Ian chopping wood, the tea shop owner doesn't scold him; instead, she pulls out her magic wand and asks Ian with a smile.
"Miss Puddifoot, thank you, I do need your help." Ian not only underestimated his Dark Arts talent, but he also overestimated his physical stamina at just over ten years old.
Who would have thought that it's just a tree, and after half an hour of chopping, it still hasn't fallen? This isn't just because the axe is too small, but also because Ian doesn't have an adult's strength and stamina.
"Your sweet words never change."
Lady Puddifoot is very pleased with Ian's way of addressing her. In fact, from the way she decorates her tea shop with youthful colors, it's not hard to see some of the thoughts inside the heart of this chubby Witch.
"Do you need me to help you break it into smaller pieces?"
Lady Puddifoot doesn't chant an incantation, she just gently waves her magic wand, and the tree split at the chopped section, followed by the application of Wingardium Leviosa, making it float in mid-air.
"If possible, I'd like it in planks."
Ian gazes admiringly at the spectacle before him.
Lifestyle near Hogwarts and those Wizards running shops nearby may not be outstanding masters, but they are definitely considered elite among Wizards.
"As you wish."
Lady Puddifoot gently shakes her magic wand, and the very primitive tree begins to split, finally turning into neatly aligned planks, stacked neatly before Ian.
"You truly are a Magic Master!"
Ian gives an earnest exclamation of admiration.
"Hahaha, I always was the top of my class in the past."
Lady Puddifoot proudly boasts.
"I really hope I can be as excellent as you."
Ian quickly offers compliments, making Lady Puddifoot laugh heartily, her laughter bold and straightforward, reminiscent of a heroine.
"Hufflepuff would definitely welcome you."
Lady Puddifoot reveals the house she studied in.
"I also wish to become an outstanding Hufflepuff." Ian always says what people want to hear; however, he actually has no resistance to studying in Hufflepuff.
Who doesn't like living next to a kitchen, having hot pot whenever they want, or beef whenever they want?
"Do you need me to help you take these planks back?"
Lady Puddifoot, very happy, immediately becomes more enthusiastic.
"It's not far, I can take them back in batches... it's also a kind of exercise." Ian doesn't want to overly burden others. He draws out his magic wand and casts a spell on some of the planks.
"Expelliarmus!"
Ian's spell is successfully released, making some planks float up, and his panel changes accordingly.
[Successfully cast Wingardium Leviosa, magic skill level +3]
Having exceptional talent in Dark Arts naturally implies not having bad talents in other magic areas since Dark Arts are also a form of magic.
Of course.
Due to the short learning time.
Just Level 1 {Wingardium Leviosa} cannot help Ian control overly heavy objects.
"Truly commendable casting."
Lady Puddifoot watches Ian carefully, steering the floating planks towards the village, and she sincerely gives unexpected praise to Ian.
"You will definitely become an excellent Wizard."
That's Lady Puddifoot's inner thought now, after all, successfully casting a {Wingardium Leviosa} isn't difficult, but maintaining it like this definitely holds some difficulty.
Not to mention Wizards who haven't started school.
Even many second-year Wizards can't do it.
"I hope so too, thank you for your help."
Ian wholeheartedly focuses on the magic spell's control, signaling with his other hand to Lady Puddifoot with a farewell gesture, cautiously starting to walk towards the little wooden house.
The house arranged by Snape is originally at the village's edge.
It's not far.
Along the way.
[Successfully maintain Wingardium Leviosa, magic skill level +1]
Ian gained another increase in skill level—after shuttling back and forth four or five times, he finally managed to bring all the wooden boards back to the small cabin.
However.
He was still missing a shovel, deodorant, plastic sheets, and most importantly, nails.
...
Hogwarts.
Slytherin Headmaster's Office.
Snape's face was extremely unpleasant.
As the Professor of Potions at Hogwarts, a world-famous Master of Magic Potions, he actually managed to ruin a batch of the simplest Blessing Potion today, just like those foolish Gryffindors!
"It's all Dumbledore's fault!"
Snape hadn't been sleeping well lately, and for this reason, he missed today's stirring time for the Blessing Potion, leaving what should have been a perfect potion with an irreparable flaw.
Snape blamed this mistake on Dumbledore. The reason was simple, he couldn't sleep because of something Dumbledore had said to him a few days ago.
"It's not that he needs you, but that you need him."
Although Snape had angrily rebuked Dumbledore for talking nonsense at the time, this phrase had lingered in his mind ever since, impossible to dispel.
"I don't need anyone!"
Snape still firmly believed this.
But he was also aware.
To dispel the nightmare haunting him, he had to do something to prove himself.
So.
Looking at the now imperfect, still brewing Blessing Potion, Snape's expression changed continuously, and after a long time, he finally put on his coat, as if he had made up his mind.
That cloak that seemed never to be washed.
"Can't even take care of oneself, how can you talk about learning magic…"
Snape seemed to be making excuses for his neglect in the past few days. He walked out of the office in a hurry, encountering Argus Filch, who was checking some equipment along the way.
He's the caretaker of Hogwarts, patrolling at night, a Squib who fancied himself as the deputy headmaster—a perhaps pitiable, but definitely not deserving of pity fellow.
"Good morning, Professor Snape."
Filch was always enthusiastic when facing a professor.
However.
Snape didn't even glance at him.
He walked right past him.
Filch's smile turned slightly awkward, but he didn't dare to make a fuss, only daring to mumble as he held his cat and continued his work after Snape had gone far away.
"Hope he hasn't starved to death."
Snape arrived at Hogwarts Village.
Standing in front of the small cabin.
He didn't need a key; he took out a magic spell and easily opened the locked door... Locked three times? Snape was a bit puzzled by the resident's cautiousness.
The security in Hogwarts Village has always been good.
Expressionless, he lifted his leg and walked in.
The next moment.
This Slytherin Headmaster of Hogwarts immediately understood why the door was locked three times. That perennial stiff face of his transformed greatly, unable to maintain its usual composure.
"What are you doing!!?"
Snape's tone sharpened into something akin to an oboe.
This was not his fault.
Because he saw something unbelievable, which he would never have imagined seeing in this small cabin—the floor of the room had been dug into a very large pit!
A little wizard was leaning over a makeshift coffin, struggling to stuff two seemingly rotting bodies into it.
The house, already in shambles.
Contained three or four more scattered corpses, decaying to varying degrees, just lying there quietly—damn it! Could such a horrifying scene be witnessed in Hogwarts Village?
"Mr. Prince!"
Snape's face turned ashen.
He saw the little wizard raise his head in terror, and startled so suddenly, the little wizard even tore off an arm from one of the bodies, making Snape's face resume its ashen hue even more.
"I need a reasonable explanation not to send you to Azkaban!!"
This was almost a roar.