Face to face with a character of this magnitude, Soren’s breathing hitched.
His heart pounded without permission.
Fortunately, given the circumstances, his “apparent age” made such a reaction perfectly natural to anyone watching.
A moment of mental chaos, then reason returned.
He ducked his head fast, playing the shy, skittish child, though the real reason was avoiding eye contact.
This man was a genuine master of Legilimency.
Contrary to Soren’s expectations, Snape did not look at him immediately upon entering.
Instead, those dark eyes swept across the director’s office, pausing briefly on the old-fashioned fireplace before settling on Director Brent.
She offered a polite smile to the rather intimidating faculty member and introduced herself.
Snape listened in silence, then returned the courtesy.
“Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts and Head of Slytherin House.
A pleasure, Mrs Brent.
As arranged, I’m here to collect the incoming student.”
Soren caught the slight pivot of Snape’s shoes and knew the man’s attention had shifted.
He steadied himself, looked up with a composed smile.
“A pleasure to meet you, Professor Snape.
I’m Soren Reed, this year’s incoming student.
Thank you for coming all this way to answer our questions.”
“Hm.”
A low nasal sound.
Snape’s lips pressed together, which might generously qualify as a smile.
Then those eyes fixed on Soren’s face, studying him with careful intensity.
Soren endured the inspection, pulse hammering beneath the surface.
The agonizing seconds stretched on for what felt like an eternity.
When Snape finally looked away, his expression seemed to have shifted, though Soren couldn’t be certain.
He hadn’t dared keep watching.
The introductions concluded, Snape wasted no time on pleasantries and got straight to business.
His first order of business: drawing his wand to prove magic was real.
One elegant flick, a flawless silent incantation, and Director Brent’s European-style settee transformed into a cushioned banquet chair, its upholstery plush and ornate.
She ran her fingers over the soft cushioning, marveling at the texture, genuinely awed by the magic on display.
Snape pocketed his wand without a change in expression.
“That was Transfiguration, a core subject for young witches and wizards.
The effect lasts approximately six hours.”
Her mouth still slightly open, Director Brent realized belatedly that he had been standing the entire time.
“Please, sit down, Professor Snape.
I’m fully convinced this magical school exists, but I have quite a few other questions.
And, well, Soren…
he’s an orphan.”
Snape declined the invitation.
From his pocket he produced a slim bound notebook and slid it across the desk toward her.
“Everything you need to know is in here.
Hogwarts prepares these for Muggles, that is, ordinary people unaware of the magical world’s existence.
Sign your true name in the bottom right corner of the cover and it will open for you.
I should mention, the notebook carries a Secrecy Charm to prevent you from revealing the magical world’s secrets.
Also-” his tone sharpened ever so slightly, “you don’t seem particularly surprised by any of this.”
The rapid-fire explanation left Director Brent blinking for a few seconds before she gathered herself.
“Oh, yes, well, when we received that rather special letter yesterday, Soren actually demonstrated magic for me.
It really is extraordinary.”
“Oh?” Snape’s gaze cut back to Soren, something calculating swimming in those deep-set eyes.
He gave a small nod.
“If you wouldn’t mind, show me as well.
Consider it confirmation of your magical ability.”
Like hell Soren trusted that request.
But given that other young wizards produced all sorts of phenomena during magical surges, he decided to reveal a sliver of talent rather than be underestimated.
He had rehearsed for this exact situation since yesterday.
Composure restored, he pointed at the teapot and put on another show.
Wrapped in magical force, the teapot rose slowly.
Its lid slid aside of its own accord, allowing clear tea to pour gracefully into a cup.
Then the lid drifted down and swept gently across the surface, skimming away stray bits of foam, as though an invisible hand were performing an elegant tea ceremony.
Simple in appearance.
Anything but in execution.
Soren poured every ounce of focus into the performance and pulled it off without a hitch.
He set the teapot back on the table with steady hands, let out a breath, picked up the cup, and offered it with the picture of a well-mannered child.
“Professor Snape, please, have some tea!”
“…”
Snape said nothing.
Those dark eyes studied him for a long moment before he gave a curt nod, gesturing for him to set the cup down.
Once he had, Snape continued.
“Per school regulations, the faculty member assigned to collect a new student must accompany them to Diagon Alley to purchase their school supplies.
While Mrs Brent reads through the introductory materials, we’ll handle the shopping.
We should be able to wrap up before noon.”
Soren nodded obediently, then let a troubled expression creep across his face.
“But…
Professor, I don’t really have any money.
Does the magical world use pounds sterling?”
“Hogwarts charges no tuition, and for students in your circumstances, there is a bursary available.
You needn’t worry about that.
The bursary isn’t extravagant, however.
I’d recommend secondhand textbooks.
That should leave you with a bit of savings.”
From his coat pocket, Snape produced a small, bulging pouch and held it out.
“Thank you, truly.
Thank you so much, Professor Snape!”
Soren accepted it with both hands, respectful and deliberate.
He knew this pouch held wizarding currency, his entire starting capital.
Snape waved it off with a casual nod and glanced up at Director Brent.
“Mrs Brent, does this arrangement suit you?”
The director, still staring blankly at the notebook in her hands, snapped to attention.
“Of course, no problem at all.
Whatever you think is best.”
“Excellent.
If you don’t mind, I’ll also need to use your fireplace.”
“…The fireplace?” Director Brent blinked.
“Uh, of course, go right ahead.”
Snape nodded, then produced a smaller pouch from another pocket.
He untied the cord and showed Soren the gritty grey powder inside.
“This is Floo Powder.
Used correctly, it allows rapid travel from one fireplace to another.
Around this time of year, the Leaky Cauldron keeps a hearth set aside specifically for young witches and wizards making their first visit to Diagon Alley.”
He gestured for Soren to follow and strode to the fireplace, casting a spell that seemed to temporarily add this hearth to the Floo Network.
“Pinch a small amount, toss it into the flames.
When the fire turns green, step in and speak your destination clearly and loudly: the Leaky Cauldron.” He folded his arms.
“Don’t worry, it’s safe.
I’ll be right behind you.”
“Understood, Professor Snape.”
Soren drew a deep breath, reached into the pouch, and tossed a pinch of powder into the hearth.
The flames roared upward, blazing a vivid emerald green.
Soren ignored the blast of heat rolling toward him and stepped boldly into the fire.
“The Leaky Cauldron!” His voice rang out, and he vanished.
Snape watched the space where the boy had stood.
In his mind, he filed Soren away with a quiet label: composed, adaptable.
One last look around the orphanage director’s office.
Looks like…
Really looks like…
No wonder Dumbledore had insisted he come personally.
This orphan boy carried an uncomfortable sense of familiarity in more ways than one.
Hopefully not another…
_____________________________
_____________________________
Yes, It is translation of an ongoing Harry Potter fic on ciweimao.
Raw: 从霍格沃茨走出的魔法皇帝