HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

July 1971, Flipping Alley.

The rain in London had just stopped when a brown-haired boy wrapped in a travel cloak stepped out of the doors of the Borgin-Bock shop.

He turned and raised his voice toward the figure inside the shop who was engrossed in wiping a silver box: "Mr. Bogin, I'm going to Diagon Alley! I need to finish the items on my list today."

Mr. Borkin didn't even look up, but replied in his slow, leisurely tone, "Go on, little Borkin, and remember, come back before sunset—your father told me to 'leave' you here before you go to school."

He paused, then gently brushed the surface of the silver box with the soft cloth in his hand. "The air in Tumbler Alley... tsk, I should take a few more breaths to make the trip worthwhile."

Ian smiled. The past month had been less of a "placement" and more of a lesson carefully arranged by his parents. Through a distant relative, they had squeezed him into this shop, ostensibly to "see what the real magical world is like."

Mr. Bokin was not polite at all. He let Ian serve the "safe" guests and allowed him to take a closer look at the "not too dangerous" things.

After a month, Ian felt that his ability to spot flaws in dark magic objects might have improved faster than his ability to memorize "Elementary Magic Theory".

He glanced one last time at the withered head in the shop window that seemed to always be looking down on the world, tightened his cloak, and turned to merge into the sparse and inconspicuous flow of people in Knockturn Alley.

"Diagon Alley," he said to himself, his voice filled with light-hearted anticipation. His Hogwarts shopping day was finally about to begin.

The crowds in Diagon Alley excited him: wizards in colorful robes, magical items glittering in shop windows, and people queuing outside the Owl Post Office.

He bought items one by one according to the list: a black pointed hat, dragon leather gloves, brass scales, and then had his clothes tailored at the Madame Malkin's Robe Shop.

Ian was a chatterbox; while taking measurements, he had already chatted with Mrs. Malkin about everything from the weather and Quidditch to the latest flying broomsticks.

"My dear, you'll definitely be sorted into Gryffindor," Mrs. Malkin said with a smile, her pins twirling in her hand.

“My family all bet it’s Slytherin,” Ian said, adjusting his sleeve. “My dad said he’d accept it as long as it’s not Gryffindor.”

After purchasing the necessities, only books and a magic wand remained on the list.

Ian hesitated for a moment, then decided to go to a used bookstore first.

He loves reading and has a large collection of books at home, but he prefers the feeling of treasure hunting in piles of old books.

The "Forgotten Scrolls" secondhand bookstore is located in a corner of Diagon Alley. It has a narrow storefront and a few tattered magic books are displayed in the window.

But the bookstore is much larger inside than it appears from the outside, with towering bookshelves almost touching the ceiling.

Ian wandered through the bookshelves, pulled out a spellbook with a blurred cover, and casually flipped through it.

Just as he was engrossed in reading, a thin, dark-haired boy walked into the bookstore.

He looked about Ian’s age, wearing an old coat that was obviously too big, with a pale face, sunken eyes, and tightly pursed lips.

The boy looked around warily, then walked toward the shop owner behind the counter.

"Excuse me, where are the first-grade textbooks?" His voice was a little hoarse.

The shop owner glanced at him casually and lazily pointed to the back of the bookstore: "Third row on the left."

The boy nodded and quickly walked in that direction.

Ian observed him; the boy walked with his shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to make himself less conspicuous.

He stopped in front of the bookshelf, his gaze sweeping over the spines of the books, his brow furrowed.

Ian put down his book and walked over. "What are you looking for? Maybe I can help."

The boy turned around abruptly, his dark eyes fixed on him warily. "I'm just looking for a book."

"I know, I'm a freshman too." Ian smiled warmly. "My name is Ian, Ian Burke. Are you also enrolling this year?"

The boy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Severus Snape."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Severus." Ian extended his hand, but Severus didn't take it, instead continuing to stare at the bookshelf.

"I need first-grade textbooks, but it seems there aren't any complete ones here." Severus frowned slightly as he scanned the bookshelf.

Ian glanced at the bookshelf and indeed, several books were clearly missing.

"Some books might be placed elsewhere, let me see..." He began to search through the surrounding bookshelves, talking as he searched, "Are you from a wizarding family or a Muggle family? I am from a wizarding family, but my family is not a prestigious one, just ordinary wizards."

"My father works in the Department of Magical Creatures Control at the Ministry of Magic, and my mother is a healer. What about your parents?"

Severus did not answer immediately, but reached for a copy of "The History of Magic" on the high shelf, but he was too short and could not reach it even on tiptoe.

"I'll take it." Ian easily took the book and handed it to Severus.

"Thank you," Severus said softly, turning the page to check.

"You're welcome. Look, here's another 'Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration,' though this one's a bit worn." Ian pulled a book with a tattered cover from another shelf. "But the contents should be complete. Ah, here it is! 'A Thousand Magical Herbs and Mushrooms'! This one looks almost brand new."

Severus carefully examined each book to make sure there were no missing pages.

He moved with extreme care, gently pinching the edge with his fingertips as he turned the pages, as if handling some precious treasure.

"You really like potions?" Ian noticed that Severus's eyes were shining as he flipped through the herbalist's book.

"It looks interesting," Severus replied succinctly, but Ian could hear the suppressed interest in his tone.

"To be honest, I know absolutely nothing about potions," Ian said with a laugh. "Once, I tried to help my mom stir a potion to treat boils, and I ended up turning myself purple. It took me a whole week to recover. My dad said I'm a bottomless pit when it comes to potions, the kind that can never be filled."

Severus seemed amused, a three-pixel smile appearing on his lips. "Potions require precision and patience."

"I'm not very good at either of those," Ian admitted. "But I'm better at spells. Look at this—" He pulled out his practice wand, whispered "Flicker," and the tip of the wand immediately emitted a soft glow.

Severus stared at the light, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "A silent spell?"

"Oh, no, I just chanted it very softly." Ian smiled sheepishly and turned off the light. "But I'm practicing silent casting. My uncle said it's easier to master if you understand the essence of a spell, rather than just chanting it."

"He is right," Severus nodded. "The essence of magic is the extension of will and intention."

Ian looked at him in surprise. "Wow, you speak so professionally. It seems you really understand magic theory."

Severus seemed to realize he had said too much and resumed his previous wary demeanor. "I've just...read some books."

"That's impressive too," Ian said sincerely. "Among the freshmen I know, very few can offer such insightful opinions. Hey, do you need 'Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense'? I just saw a copy over there."

Together they found the last book they needed.

As Severus carried the stack of books to the counter, Ian noticed that he carefully counted the coins before paying, making sure every nut was counted precisely.

"Alright, I should go buy a wand now." Ian clapped his hands. "Want to come with me? Ollivanders Wand Shop is at the end of this street."

Severus shook his head. "I have other things to buy."

"Alright, see you at Hogwarts then!" Ian said with a smile. "Hopefully we'll be sorted into the same house, but no matter where we are, we can still be friends, right?"

Severus stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded slightly. "Perhaps."