Chapter 3: Snape Storms Off in a Torn Sleeve
"And that's the gist of it."
In the living room, Ezio poured Snape a cup of black tea—unadulterated. He was well aware that a Potions Master of this caliber would not fall for any tricks. Every person who could be called a 'Master' possessed extraordinary and uncommon talents.
"My father is dead. The only clue I have is that he may have died in 'the place where the twelve moons rise'."
"This must be related to what you told me about... wizards."
"You don't know about the wizarding world?" Snape's brow furrowed. He was skeptical of Ezio's answer, which was a natural reaction. After all, the spearhead the boy held was clearly imbued with magical power. "Where did you get that weapon? You know how to use it, yet you tell me you don't know about wizards."
"It's an heirloom my father left me. Perhaps one of his ancestors was a wizard, or maybe he acquired it from somewhere else. I'm his adopted son; there are some things I can't be certain about."
"I can use it, but I don't know why I can."
Ezio's words were a mix of truth and lies. The hardest lies to expose are those woven from truth, but Ezio couldn't manage that entirely. Still, his words were believable enough to Snape's ears. Ezio's attitude was cooperative, his tone sincere, and it was clear he wanted something from him.
The only problem was that Snape had no clue what 'the place where the twelve moons rise' could possibly mean. If he did, he would have already revealed his nastier side. The moment Snape had leverage, he wouldn't hesitate to be ruthless with this little brat.
"I will tentatively believe your story. Now, for the second question." Snape's demeanor became more aggressive. "You must have received the acceptance letter from Hogwarts. If you knew a professor was coming, why did you suddenly attack me?"
Snape didn't bother asking, 'What did you and your dead old man do for a living?'
The answer was obvious. This boy was clearly a professional in a special line of work, one who had received expert training. If Ezio didn't have that broken spear, a prepared Snape with his wand in hand wouldn't have given him a second thought.
While clever Muggle tricks weren't entirely useless, in the eyes of a wizard, they were nothing special. After all, wizards possessed magic that could freely manipulate and alter the minds of Muggles. With a flick of his finger, he could wipe Ezio's memory clean.
The disdain wizards held for Muggles was not without reason, and Snape currently embodied that wizarding arrogance. He didn't believe for a second that he could fall into Ezio's hands again.
"I never received any so-called acceptance letter from Hogwarts. Otherwise, I wouldn't have mistaken you for the dangerous individual who killed my father and tracked me to my home. The knives I threw at you were aimed only at your joints. From the beginning, I never intended to take your life. Otherwise, your head would already be separated from your body. I would have given you no chance to speak."
Ezio's tone was cold, offering Snape not an ounce of pride. "I intended to take you alive. I don't like to kill the innocent, but that doesn't mean I'm incapable of being ruthless."
A muscle in Snape's brow twitched, but upon reflection, he knew it was true. At that moment, Ezio's spearhead had been at his throat. With the slightest movement, he would have been decapitated. No potion could have saved him then; not even Merlin himself, reincarnated on the spot, could have helped him.
"Impossible! I only receive the report to come here after the letter has been accepted. You cannot have failed to receive the letter delivered by owl."
"Owl?" Although Ezio knew about this, he still managed a look of confusion. "You use owls to deliver mail?"
"Of course," Snape replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Owls that possess magic in their bodies can deliver items with absolute accuracy into the hands of the intended recipient. It is their own innate magic. The wonders of the wizarding world are beyond your imagination, boy."
"I think I might know what happened."
Ezio stood up and walked to the window. After opening it, he let out a sharp whistle and extended his right arm. A moment later, a beautiful and formidable bird of prey landed on his forearm.
"Neil, what did you catch earlier?"
Ezio stroked the head of the magnificent bird he had raised himself, a creature with which he shared a spiritual resonance. It was a gyrfalcon, found across Northern Europe, Asia, and North America. It was a medium-sized raptor, extremely fierce in nature.
It was no surprise at all that a domesticated delivery owl would fall prey to it; a gyrfalcon's diving speed is more than six times faster than an owl's top flight speed.
The great bird, Neil, of course understood Ezio's words. It hopped onto the windowsill, then took flight. A dozen seconds later, it returned, clutching the skeletal remains of something it had nearly devoured completely.
"The letter is here."
Ezio untied a blood-stained envelope from the leg of the unlucky owl and waved it at Snape.
"Sorry about that. I don't have any neighbors nearby, so Neil spends all day playing outside. If he sees another bird approaching the house, he just catches it. But he doesn't harm people, I've trained him well."
Snape's face was now so dark it looked as if it might start dripping ink. He couldn't find a way to refute the excuse, but he keenly spotted a blind spot in the logic.
"If the delivery owl was caught by your bird, the magic should not have registered the letter as received." Although this wasn't Ezio's fault and fell into the category of a magical anomaly, Snape was determined to find fault with him. "I suspect you..."
"Do wizards have any other special abilities? Besides casting magic?" Ezio interrupted, asking a question to which he already knew the answer.
"Yes," Snape said after a brief pause, nodding. "A very small number of wizards possess certain unusual abilities. Are you trying to tell me you are one of them?"
"I can communicate with Neil telepathically. Sometimes I feel as though I become Neil, flying in the sky, seeing the world through his eyes."
"Your eagle has been suffused with your magic. That is indeed a plausible explanation, hmph." Snape snorted. The cause of the problem had been found, but he was far from satisfied.
"Hogwarts will have to reconsider your admission."
Having figured things out, Snape turned and stormed away, flicking his sleeve. However, his torn robes made the dramatic gesture look somewhat comical. Realizing this, he didn't even bother walking out the door, simply Disapparating on the spot.
"Heh."
Ezio let out a cold laugh, unconcerned by Snape's threat. Now that he knew of the wizarding world's existence, even in the worst-case scenario where he couldn't enter Hogwarts, he would find another way.
Besides, given Dumbledore's character of always willing to give someone a chance—a man who dared to accept even Voldemort—how could he possibly refuse a Muggle Assassin?
Done wasting his thoughts on the matter, Ezio headed for the stairs. Whether it was Templars or wizards, he could no longer remain in this house.