The Diagon Alley shopping trip went off without a hitch.
Soren dangled parcels of every shape and size from his arms, right hand clutching his new wand, turning it over and over like a prized treasure.
Snape dutifully carried the heaviest load, the potion-making kit, and strode ahead without a flicker of expression.
Being forced to chaperone a new student had clearly drained the Potions Master’s patience.
He walked in grim silence, making a beeline for the Leaky Cauldron and ignoring Soren’s best puppy-dog eyes aimed at a roadside ice cream cart.
Once inside, he didn’t even slow down, stepping into the fireplace first.
Soren swallowed his disappointment, cast one last longing glance toward Diagon Alley, then scattered the Floo Powder from his palm into the flames and spoke clearly: “Brent Orphanage.”
His second ride through the Floo Network was considerably calmer.
He stepped into the fire with composure.
That wild, spinning, world-upside-down sensation swept over him again.
After an indeterminate stretch of dizzying motion, the lurching scenes steadied.
Through the door-shaped opening in the flames, he spotted the familiar director’s office.
One step forward and the rich aroma of black tea filled his nose, unknotting the tension that had coiled in his chest.
His first real contact with the wizarding world was behind him.
No disasters, no catastrophes.
He had secured crucial information and a wand of his own.
A good start by any measure.
The only wrinkle: his background bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a certain infamous war criminal, which meant he might catch stray fire through no fault of his own…
While Soren drifted in thought, Snape exchanged rapid words with Director Brent.
Satisfied that the director already understood basic wizarding knowledge, he turned to face the new student and launched into a flat recitation of the rules.
Since Soren came from the Muggle world and lacked even the most basic magical knowledge, the list of rules and precautions ballooned into something far more tedious.
Among other things, it included the prohibition against revealing one’s wizarding identity to Muggles.
Snape also “encouraged” him with a few well-placed warnings: no casual spellcasting, no unsupervised potion-brewing, no practicing charms in secret.
A serious enough incident could cost him his place at Hogwarts and land him straight in wizard prison.
“Don’t think I’m trying to frighten you.
The moment an underage wizard casts a spell outside school, the Ministry of Magic detects it and dispatches an investigator.
At minimum, you’ll receive a formal warning.”
Soren nodded obediently.
Internally, he didn’t break a sweat.
He was, after all, a genuine “prophet”… Putting aside the fact that the Ministry’s so-called Trace system was riddled with question marks, whether it even truly existed, whether it worked half as well as the Ministry claimed, that was a debate for another day.
The simple fact that he was a pre-enrollment underage wizard suggested a grace period.
A beginner’s protection window during which he could practice spells freely.
Besides, if you understood the British government as a glorified circus act, as depicted in Yes, Prime Minister and Yes, Minister, then applying that same lens to the Ministry of Magic wasn’t an unreasonable approach.
Following that logic, the Ministry’s public boasts about the Trace’s reliability might serve a different purpose entirely: convincing wizards they were being watched, so they’d police themselves…
Soren couldn’t be certain his theory was correct.
But he’d been practicing magic in private for four years, and no one from the Ministry had ever come knocking.
Something definitely didn’t add up.
Having patiently discharged his teaching duties, Snape licked his dry lips with visible discomfort and pressed a slim booklet into Soren’s hands.
“This is the Hogwarts First-Year Handbook.
It includes the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, among other regulations.
Read it yourself.
Don’t do anything rash.”
“I understand, Professor.
Thank you for your guidance.”
Soren accepted the handbook with both hands and tucked it into the parcel containing his textbooks.
“Good.
You’re dismissed.
Go sort out your belongings.” Snape gave Director Brent a small nod.
“I’ve discussed matters with your guardian.
It’ll give you space to study and prepare for the start of term.”
A private room?
Soren was entirely on board.
He thanked them again without hesitation.
He could tell Snape wanted him gone, likely needed to discuss something with the director in private.
After a moment’s hesitation, he slipped in one last question: “Professor, does Hogwarts have any work-study programs that younger students can participate in?”
Noticing the probing glint in Snape’s eyes, he quickly explained: “I am an orphan, after all.
At our orphanage, most of the kids spend their free time delivering newspapers or walking pets to earn a bit of pocket money.
For a rainy day, you know.”
Director Brent nodded along, lending credibility to his story.
Snape didn’t seem particularly suspicious.
He considered for a few seconds, then shook his head decisively.
“No.
School rules prohibit first- and second-years from leaving the grounds without permission, and there’s virtually nothing to spend money on inside the castle.”
“But I have a pet to feed…”
“Owls stay in the Owlery.
They earn their keep delivering school post in exchange for food and shelter.
No additional expense required.”
“But…”
“No buts.
First- and second-year wizards have limited ability.
You’re still building foundations.
Magic is wondrous, but it’s also dangerous.
Allowing a child like you to cast spells unsupervised would be irresponsible toward your own safety.”
Snape delivered this verdict at breakneck speed, cutting off any further argument before Soren could mount another attempt.
Though he’d expected as much, a wave of disappointment still washed over him.
He bid the two adults a glum farewell and left the director’s office.
Snape waited in silence until the boy’s footsteps had faded well down the corridor.
Then he turned and met the director’s gaze directly.
“Mrs.
Brent, the new-student intake process is nearly complete.
Before I go, I’d like to confirm the details regarding Soren Reed one more time.
I trust you’ll cooperate.”
“A background check?
Of course, no problem.
The children at our orphanage are all very well-behaved, especially Soren.
He’s… he’s… ah…”
The request was perfectly reasonable.
Director Brent saw no cause to refuse.
She looked up earnestly and met his eyes.
Then her whole body went rigid.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
Those black eyes were bottomless, as though they possessed some soul-stealing enchantment.
A single moment of eye contact and her mind was no longer her own.
Her expression turned vacant, her movements sluggish.
This was Legilimency.
Snape’s signature technique.
Soren Reed was a boy with no shortage of suspicious points.
To obtain the truth, Snape had resorted to the direct approach: magical extraction of information.
“Don’t be nervous, Mrs. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Brent.
Let’s continue.” Snape slowed his cadence, guiding the subject’s thoughts with words even as he sifted through her memories.
“Let’s start with the first question.
In your impression, what sort of child is Soren?
What is his personality like?”
“Soren is clever and hardworking, and very brave.
His grades are always the best in his year.
He’s popular at school and at the orphanage…”
“Good.
How does he get along with the other children?
Does he have close friends here?
He told me he thinks of this place as home.
From an adult’s perspective, do you believe him?”
“Soren… he does clash with some of the older boys sometimes, but only because those boys are unruly.
They form gangs and pick on the younger ones.
He steps in to lay down the rules, to correct their behavior.
He has a close friend, a poor girl who lost both parents and was transferred to the orphanage at age eight.
Her name is Ayla.
He looks after her.
Doesn’t let anyone bully her.
As for whether he considers this place home, I don’t think there’s any doubt.
He chooses to stay here.
He’s turned down multiple adoption offers.
In my mind, he’s always been a bright, sensible child.
Rarely causes worry.
The other staff and I are all very fond of him.”
Director Brent remained in her trance, pouring out her honest thoughts one by one.
Snape confirmed the Legilimency was holding, then probed further, asking about Soren’s character, his habits, his temperament from every angle he could think of.
A full quarter of an hour passed before he finally released the spell and raised a hand to massage his temples.
Judging by the director’s account, Soren Reed was, at his core, a decent kid.
His background shared uncomfortable parallels with a certain Dark wizard, but he hadn’t gone off the deep end in childhood.
He hadn’t tumbled down that dark path.
With proper guidance after enrollment, he could become a fine new-generation wizard.
Someone this bright and studious would likely end up in Ravenclaw.
No.
Considering the boy had dared to practice magic on his own at age seven, and had the nerve to stand up against older kids’ bullying, that quality, whether you called it bravery or recklessness, might just as easily land him in Gryffindor.
Hufflepuff seemed unlikely.
His wand test results had already ruled that out.
As his thoughts wandered, only one House never crossed Snape’s mind: his own.
Soren was a Muggle orphanage child.
Almost certainly not a pure-blood.
Half-blood, though… His mind drifted back to a certain person whose name could not be spoken.
His gaze drifted unconsciously to his left forearm, and for a phantom instant, he could almost feel the old scars ache.
It couldn’t be that much of a coincidence.
If it were, someone else would be pulling his beard out in anxiety…
In the end, Snape departed with a detailed mental report, erasing the magical markers he’d placed on the orphanage’s fireplace before he left, a temporary privilege granted by the Floo Network Authority, available only during the enrollment period.
Director Brent’s mind now held a gently edited memory, and she noticed nothing amiss.
She saw him to the door with warm courtesy.
And so, Soren’s path to Hogwarts was clear.
Nothing more stood in the way, only the wait for September the first, when he would make his way to the legendary Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and set off on an entirely new journey.