King's Cross Station, Platform 9 3/4.
The scarlet steam engine lay across the tracks like a dragon, puffing out plumes of white smoke. The noise of chatter, hooting owls, and clashing luggage created a deafening cacophony.
Ivan Potter stood with one hand in his pocket, the other elegantly holding a black leather suitcase—a second-hand buy from Diagon Alley. It looked retro, but inside it was packed with dangerous alchemy materials and his copy of Intermediate Potion Making.
He wasn't panicking like the other first-years. He even had the leisure to buy a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from a trolley, picking out a "Bogey-flavored" one and chewing it without changing his expression.
"Excuse me, coming through."
A red-haired boy with a face full of freckles was struggling to drag a large trunk, followed by a small boy with messy black hair (Harry).
Ron Weasley.
"Hey! Are you a first-year too?" Ron paused when he saw Ivan's jacket—old, but worn with an undeniable air of style. "You look... different. You're going to Hogwarts too?"
Ivan glanced at him, then at Harry, who was peeking out from behind Ron.
"Obviously," Ivan said flatly, casually flicking away a Chocolate Frog that tried to jump into his mouth. "Also, Mr. Weasley, if you don't move, your trunk is going to crush my shoes. I bought these in Knockturn Alley. They were expensive, and bloodstains are a pain to wash out."
Ron shrank back in fright. For some reason, this boy his age gave off a chill that was scarier than his brother Percy on a bad day.
"Sorry... I'm Ron. This is Harry."
"I know." Ivan didn't offer a handshake, just nodded. "The Potter Savior and the Weasley... well, mascot. A fascinating combination."
With that, Ivan walked straight past them, leaving a bewildered Ron and a thoughtful Harry behind.
"Harry, why do I feel like he just insulted us?" Ron muttered.
"No," Harry stared at Ivan's back, his scar prickling slightly. "I think... he seemed to know us."
---
Ivan found an empty compartment.
Inside sat a boy with pale skin and slicked-back hair. Blaise Zabini.
Seeing Ivan enter, Blaise instinctively showed a trace of pure-blood arrogance. But the moment he met Ivan's dark green eyes, his smile froze.
It was the instinctual fear of prey meeting a top-tier predator.
"Mind if I sit here?" Ivan asked politely, though he was already sitting down.
"No... not at all." Blaise involuntarily scooted over.
Ivan set down his case and pulled out a thick copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, but didn't read it. Instead, he took out the "Fragment of the True Eye" pocket watch.
The eye on the dial opened a slit.
> [True Eye Activated. High-intensity mental fluctuations detected within ten meters.]
> [Source: Approaching Black-Robed Professor.]
"He's here." Ivan smirked.
The compartment door was yanked open.
A cold wind rushed in. Severus Snape stood in the doorway, black robes billowing behind him like a giant bat. His hollow black eyes scanned the compartment, pausing for a split second on Harry's face (a memory of Lily) before shifting away and locking onto Ivan.
Snape's pupils contracted slightly.
Why isn't this boy wearing school robes? And why did my Legilimency hit a wall the moment I got near him?
"Potter," Snape's voice sounded like scraping the bottom of a cauldron. "And Zabini. Why haven't you changed into your robes? Furthermore, what are you doing?"
Blaise turned pale and stammered, "P-Professor Snape, we just got on..."
"Silence." Snape cut him off coldly, his gaze fixed on Ivan. "Potter, I'm asking you. Why aren't you looking at me? Is this your idea of manners?"
Ivan slowly closed his book and looked up.
He didn't lower his head or dodge like other students. He looked Snape straight in the eye.
And there was no fear in his gaze, only... scrutiny. Like a teacher looking at a student who got a question wrong.
"Professor Snape," Ivan's voice was impossibly steady. "According to Hogwarts School Rules, Section 12, Clause 3, new students have the right to wear casual clothes before arriving at the school. Furthermore, I wasn't ignoring you. I was observing you."
Snape's eyebrows shot up, a sneer curling his lip. "Observing me? Does the Potter family produce Squib astronomers in addition to Saviors? What were you observing?"
"I was observing your complexion," Ivan said seriously. "Your forehead is dark, there's slight congestion in the corners of your eyes, and your breathing is deep but irregular. If I'm not mistaken, you suffered a high-intensity Dark Magic backlash last night while trying to break through Headmaster Dumbledore's firewall, didn't you?"
Dead silence in the compartment.
Blaise felt like he was going to faint. Was Ivan Potter insane? What was he talking about? Professor Snape was the youngest Head of House!
Snape froze.
He stared at Ivan, his right hand already gripping his wand.
Last night... he had indeed tried to peek into Dumbledore's Pensieve, and had burned his mental pathways on a trap the old bee left behind! No one else knew about this!
How did this child know?
> [System Alert: Snape is experiencing severe emotional fluctuation!]
> [Emotion Analysis: Shock (40%), Killing Intent (30%), Humiliation of Being Exposed (30%)]
> [Congratulations Host! Emotion Value +400!]
> [Current Total: 1920 Points!]
"Are you guessing with your pitiful Squib intuition, Potter?" Snape's voice was low, like a snake ready to strike. "Or are you spying on me?"
"Spying is a strong word." Ivan pulled a bottle of "Sobriety Potion" he'd swiped from Borgin and Burkes out of his pocket, placed it on the table, and slid it over. "A greeting gift. This potion is laced with a bit of 'Reverse Scale Powder.' It alleviates headaches caused by mental backlash. No need to thank me; I'm a Slytherin, I respect my teachers."
Snape looked at the potion, then at Ivan's half-smiling face.
For a moment, he wondered if he was under the Imperius Curse.
This child... not only knew he was injured, but knew exactly what medicine to use! And "Reverse Scale Powder" was an obscure ingredient Snape had only seen in books!
"Who exactly are you?" Snape hissed through clenched teeth.
"Ivan Potter, your student." Ivan smiled, then suddenly leaned in, whispering so only the two of them could hear. "Or, you can call me... a friend of 'R.A.B.', the one who wrote to you about potion improvements?"
Boom!
Snape's brain felt like it had been struck by lightning.
R.A.B.! Regulus Arcturus Black! The Death Eater who stole the locket and died!
Although Snape didn't know exactly who R.A.B. was, he knew the mysterious figure had been communicating with the Dark Lord! How could this child know that code name?!
> [System Alert: Snape is mentally overwhelmed! Emotion Value +500!]
> [Snape's Current State: Questioning reality, extremely confused, contemplating kidnapping you for dissection.]
Snape took a deep breath, snatched the potion off the table, and shoved it up his sleeve.
He had to leave this compartment immediately, or he feared he might actually pry this little monster's skull open to see what was inside.
"Five points from Gryffindor!" Snape suddenly snapped at Neville, who had just walked into the wrong compartment, then turned back to stare at Ivan. "Potter... for your... 'thoughtfulness,' five points to Slytherin."
With that, Snape turned and fled, forgetting to even close the door.
Blaise Zabini's jaw hit the floor.
"Merlin's beard..." Blaise murmured. "You made Professor Snape... back down? And he gave points to Slytherin? How did you do that?"
Ivan leaned back in his seat, popping another bean into his mouth. "Standard procedure. As long as you know Dark Magic better than the demon, the demon will respect you."
However, it wasn't over yet.
The train announcement suddenly blared: "Attention all first-years. The train is arriving at Hogwarts. Please wait for Professor McGonagall to conduct the Sorting Ceremony upon arrival."
Moments later, the compartment door was pushed open again.
This time, it was Professor McGonagall. She looked stern, holding a roll of parchment.
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall looked at Ivan with a complicated expression. "Please come with me. And... Mr. Zabini, you too."
"Where to?" Ivan asked.
"To the Prefects' compartment at the front." McGonagall took a deep breath, seeming to suppress some emotion. "There are matters... that need to be confirmed before we reach the castle."
---
The Front Compartment.
Usually reserved for fifth-year Prefects and above.
When Ivan entered, two people were already seated.
One was a boy looking as arrogant as a peacock—Draco Malfoy.
The other was a stern-looking girl—Pansy Parkinson.
Seeing Ivan, Draco frowned. "Professor McGonagall, why bring a first-year brat here? Especially this... rag-wearing Potter."
Pansy giggled behind her hand. "Yes, Professor, this is against the rules."
McGonagall ignored their mockery. She cleared her throat and spoke in an almost dreamlike tone:
"Quiet. According to the latest order from the Headmaster's office, and Professor Snape's... 'strong recommendation,' we need to appoint a first-year Slytherin Prefect."
Draco blinked. "Prefect? Shouldn't it be me... or Blaise?"
"Blaise lacks seniority." McGonagall looked at Ivan with probing eyes. "After emergency consultation, considering Mr. Ivan Potter's 'exceptional insight' in Potions and Ancient Runes (actually Snape panic-nominating him to buy his silence), and his demonstrated... 'Slytherin qualities'."
McGonagall produced a silver badge and handed it to Ivan.
"From now on, Ivan Potter is the first-year Slytherin Prefect. Furthermore, he possesses 'Special Exemption' in Professor Snape's classes—meaning he does not need to follow textbook procedures for brewing potions, as long as the result is correct."
Clang.
The book in Draco's hand hit the floor.
Pansy's smile froze.
Blaise, following behind, almost knelt.
First-year Prefect?
Personally recommended by Snape?
With Potion class exemption?!
This was unheard of in Hogwarts history! Since when was that biased old bat Snape so generous?!
Ivan took the badge and pinned it to his battered jacket. The gleaming silver badge contrasted sharply with the old clothes, yet somehow looked harmoniously decadent.
"I appreciate the faculty's trust," Ivan said coolly, then turned to the dumbstruck Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, please move your feet. You're blocking my way."
Draco instinctively pulled his legs back, his face flushing red. "You... on what grounds..."
"On these grounds." Ivan pointed to the badge, then pulled out his ebony wand and twirled it. "Also, if you don't mind, I can demonstrate the novice version of 'Sectumsempra' right now. On your expensive robes, of course."
Draco shuddered. He smelled a danger on Ivan far more potent than his father.
"Good." Ivan nodded in satisfaction, opened the compartment door, and looked out the window.
In the distance, the lights of Hogwarts Castle were visible through the rainy night, looking like a slumbering beast.
Meanwhile, in the Highest Tower of the Castle.
Dumbledore stood by the window, holding an urgent message just delivered by owl.
It was from Ollivander.
"Albus, that child... Ivan Potter. He not only tamed a Thestral wand but understands 'Chaos Magic.' Even more terrifying, he seems to know what we are doing... Watch Quirrell tonight."
A trace of worry flashed in Dumbledore's blue eyes, but it quickly turned into the twinkle of an old prankster.
"What an interesting little fellow..." the old bee muttered. "Severus called him a 'little demon'... It seems Slytherin House is about to get lively."
"However," Dumbledore whispered as he watched the train entering the tunnel, "I hope you are not a second Tom, my boy."
---
The train came to a halt.
Ivan stepped off onto the muddy ground.
The rain was still falling.
He looked up at the massive oak doors.
In his mind, system notifications were scrolling madly.
> [Massive Emotion Value Income Detected!]
> [Source: Draco Malfoy (Jealousy +100)]
> [Source: Snape (Confliction +200)]
> [Source: Professor McGonagall (Curiosity +50)]
> [Source: First-Year Snakes (Awe +150)]
> [Current Total: 2800 Points!]
"Hogwarts," Ivan whispered, a wild grin curling his lips. "My playground is open."