There were no surprises.

  After returning to the Ravenon room, Ian stashed the box securely in his trunk and cast a cealment Charm over it. He ended up missing the entire Hogwarts dinner hour.

  The wind howled outside the castle.

  Ian was not the sort of young wizard who would willingly go hungry. The kits beh the Great Hall could easily solve that problem, but instead, he took a detour to the castle's lower levels.

  'Knock, Knock!'

  Ian knockedon the door after reag his destination.

  But there was no response from the inside.

  "It's me, Professor Snape. Ian," he called. "The one you personally awarded first p today's Potions lesson."

  'Click.'

  A momehe door creaked open and a disheveled Severus Sood in the doorway, his fareadable.

  Behind him, the room was as untidy as his appearance— arched shelves lihe curved walls, brimming with gss jars of dubious substahe space resembled a cavernous ir, fitting for the Potions Master of Hogwarts.

  "Mr. Prince, curfew is approag," Snape drawled. "If you don't want to be caught and giveion, you should be in your Ravenon room now." He stressed 'Ravencw' with a note of dry derision, his voice carrying a hint of lingeriment.

  "Would detention teach me something beyond the standard curriculum?" Ian asked, tilting his head, green eyes alight with anticipation.

  Snape's eye twitched. "If you ot correct your attitude tootions, you will never learn anything worthwhile from me."

  His voice remained cold as ever.

  "Then allow me to apologize and adjust my attitude." Sensing an opportunity hidden in Snape's words, Ian immediately straightehe into a perfeiy-degree bow, maintaining the position in absolute silence.

  A dispy of 'dedication to the craft.'

  Snape's expression twisted oddly, his mouth opening as if to deliver a biting remark— only to close again. He scrutinized Ian, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

  "If this is the purpose of your visit…" Snape finally turned and strode into the room. He pulled open a drawer in his desk arieved an aged, bck-bound book.

  "Take it. And leave." He tossed the book at Ian, his tone clipped and stiff.

  "This book was inally intended for a different recipient, but since you've wormed your way into possession of it through sheer audacity, you'll face a separate examination at the end of term."

  "If you fail to impress me… hmph." He left the implication hanging, his voice ced with ominous i. But Ian did not react as Snape had perhaps expected.

  "Who is a Half-Blood Prince?" Ian asked, catg 'Advanced Potion-Making' mid-air. His gaze fell upon a small inscription on the back cover.

  Was this the same book Harry Potter had found?

  Ian's deliberately i question made Snape's face darken with unmistakable irritation.

  "That's 'the' Half-Blood Prince, you fool!"

  Sormed forward, snatched the book from Ian's grasp, and, with a flick of his quill, aggressively scratched out the offending words.

  "I thought you had more wit than your insufferable father!" He scrutihe cover o time before practically shoving the book back at Ian.

  "It beloo my father?" Ian feigned curiosity, watg Snape's rea closely.

  He had long suspected a e between them, but this… this was ued.

  So that's how it is.

  Ihat's how it is.

  The specution he had harbored was now firmed. Before, it had been mere jecture, nothing more than shadows on the wall.

  "'Tsk tsk,' your father's intellect was as dense as a troll's— strictly fio the sylbus, just like you," Snape sneered, clearly uimating Ian's knowledge. He slipped in the insult without the slightest hesitation.

  "Then, Professor, didn't you just obliterate a Master's signature?" Ian tered smoothly.

  Snape hesitated. His mog expression faltered ever so slightly.

  "I surpass him," Stered curtly. "That gives me the right."

  This was a rather flimsy justification.

  But Ian merely nodded, pretending to accept it.

  "If you spent more time in the library rather than meddling with the creation of hazardous objects alongside 'certain' students, you might begin to uand the legacy of your lineage." Snape's sarcasm returhough there eculiar note in his voice— disappoi?

  "I borrowed 'A Brief History of Hogwarts,' but I haven't read it yet," Ian remarked, readiween the lines of Snape's words. Ohing was clear now: Snape was 'not' his father.

  "Are there any living members of my family?"

  His quiet question made Snape's expression falter, if only for a fra of a sed.

  "If there were," Snape said, voice slightly stiff, "do you think you'd have ended up in an orphanage?"

  "Who did it?"

  Ian had no memory of his parents, but that didn't mean he could overlook their fate. Someone was responsible.

  "Do what you must. Learn what you must." Snape refused to answer, moving to usher Ian toward the door.

  "Wait."

  Ian stepped forward, blog the door's closure.

  "I've already answered enough of your questions. What more do you want, 'Mr. Trouble?'" Snape's gaze bore down icily.

  "I actually came to return your money." Ian pulled a pouch of Galleons from his pocket and, under Snape's narrowed gaze, pressed it into his hands.

  "You sold the Felix Felicis?" Sone sharpehe only expnation Snape could think of for such a rge sum was that Ian had sold the potiohought selling Felix Felicis was exactly the kind of thing Ian would do..

  Even after Ian shook his head, Snape's suspi did not wane.

  "I'm not that stupid." To avoid Snape's rese, Ian had no choice but to show the inside of his pockets and the small hidden partments in his robes.

  There were still quite a few gold s glowing ihanks to Winky.

  "I found a secret treasure in Hogwarts and achieved positive growth in personal wealth." Ian lowered his voice, and Snape ihe door looked utterly incredulous.

  "Hidden treasure in Hogwarts?" Snape's skepticism was evident.

  How had he not known about this?

  "I'll look into it," Stered darkly. "If I find out you've resorted to theft or extorted gold through magic, I'll personally see you escorted to Azkaban. Where you 'belong.'"

  "You don't appreciate the art of medieval treasure-hunting, do you?" Ian sighed theatrically.

  Snape's gre intensified.

  "It 'better' be true."

  Sempted to shove the gold back at Ian, but the boy swiftly dodged.

  Snape sossing the pouto the floor instead. "Do you think I care for this paltry sum?"

  The arrogance of a Potions Master— wealth meant nothing to him. But Ian already knew how to handle someone like Snape.

  "Do you think a few Galleons buy me favor? Dream on." He he pouch back toward Snape's office with the tip of his boot.

  A vein pulsed at Semple.

  "'OUT!'"

  The door smmed shut with a resounding 'BANG.'

  A few seds ter.

  The door opened a crack— just wide enough for 'Advanced Potion-Making' to be hurled out.

  Another 'BANG!' The door closed even harder.

  "A Potions family, huh…"

  Ia down, brushing dust from the book's worn cover. He stared at the spot where Snape had obliterated the name.

  "Was my family's massacre Voldemort's doing, or…?"

  His only remaining uncle.

  The empty corridor held no answers.

  (End of chapter)

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