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Severus stroked his shin grimly. Mmm. He was prepared for this. For being blind, the girl was annoyingly perceptive when he underhandedly called her names.
"Listen, Lils. You're special, and that's as self-evident as the fact that you're du... Erh, I mean, you're definitely special, really amazing. There are a lot of Gryffindors who come from prestigious families, and you've beaten dozens of them in professors' evaluations, and the fact that you were appointed prefect means they didn't explicitly vote against you, which is even more exceptional. Once you're prefect, you're prefect the next year, and the next. Besides, Dumbledore loves Gryffindors, and none of the kids who're prefects in our year are as talented as you. So in our seventh year, you'll likely be the Head Girl. Think about it. Head Girl and Boy of Hogwarts, a position held by only two out of hundreds of graduates. Your classmates, a thousand students, will all remember you."
Severus's jet-black eyes shone with pure admiration. It was only once or twice a month that the reticent boy opened his mouth and spoke at such length. The light from the dark eyes were genuine, without a hint of falsehood.
Lily finally smiled. She knew her Slytherin friend's focus was a little off from her own, but she couldn't help but let the corners of her mouth curve upward at the boy's sincere praise.
"You really think I'll be the Head Girl in two years?"
"You will, unless you lose your mind supervising the Gryffindorks and crucio them, or unless Headmaster Dumbledore goes blind in two years."
She stuck her tongue out. He was a natural at insulting people, as naturally as he breathed oxygen.
Severus ignored her expression and nodded, pretending to weight the situation.
"Of course, I'll sympathize with you well enough even if the former happens, Lils, but if you can't take it anymore, come talk to me first before doing anything rash. I can find you a curse that's far less conspicuous than a Cruciatus..."
"Oh, please shush, Sev!"
Ignoring her rolling her eyes, Severus turned grave.
"But come to think of it, isn't it very much possible that Dumbledore could go blind in the near future? Do you remember the robes the Headmaster wore at the End-of-Year Feast? Mauve robes embroidered with orange unicorns, with gold sash, turquoise hat, and-"
"...A fluorescent hot pink star ornament on the end of the hat. Scattering glitters every ten seconds."
Severus nodded vigorously.
"I say, either he's going blind, or he's seriously trying to blind others."
Lily nodded, her expression as grave as Severus's.
"I've once read of an ancient spell from the German region that slowly renders a person color-blind. I wonder if that's what he was hit with when he fought Grindelwald?"
The two friends continued their chat. Both of them had a keen eye for color as Potions students go, and the Headmaster's creative visual terrorism, which had been going on since their first year, was a fascinating topic.
"...Headmaster's tastes in clothes. What an interesting discussion you're enjoying."
"Eeek!" "Urh!"
They didn't even hear the door open. The boy and girl exclaimed in unison and looked back at the cabin door.
Through the half-open door, a dark-haired man peered down at them, arms crossed, smirking.
An adult.
A professor, probably.
...Caught red-handed, prattling about the headmaster's fashion tastes behind his back.
...Completely screwed.
Coming to their conclusions in a flash, the kids immediately dropped their eyes as one and gave him a look of deep regret. They were good students, and had a knack for looking repentant in front of professors.
"Your name and house?"
"...Lily Evans, Gryffindor, sir."
"...Severus Snape, Slytherin house, sir."
"..."
The man was quiet for a moment, not saying anything. Severus slowly lifted his gaze to look at him.
Dark hair cropped short in a soldier's style. A smooth, but somehow coldly sculpted face.
In his mid-twenties, maybe? The green eyes, shining beneath black lashes, could be as young as a teenager, or as old as a man in his mid-fifties, so it was hard to tell.
Those green eyes were staring down at them, pupils wide open, unmoving. Severus blinked, feeling the strangeness of the gaze.
He'd never seen the face before, but it was somehow familiar. What could it be?
The next moment, the boy was on his feet.
"...Master Henry Peverell!"
"...Do you know me?"
"Yeah! I saw your picture in the latest issue of Contemporary Potions!"
Severus was excited and pulled out a used magazine he had tucked between his textbooks. The picture was black and white, so he didn't recognize him immediately, but it was definitely the same person.
The young master glanced back and forth between the magazine, which proudly displayed his picture, and the boy, whose eyes sparkled, and then pressed a hand to his brow.
"That magazine is not for someone your age... No, never mind. Just tear up the interview with that picture. The rest is okay."
"What?!"
Severus stared in disbelief as he unfolded the feature article, "Youngest Dual Master! Genius Inspiration Revealed by the Last Descendant of a Famous Family!" shimmering in boldface. How wonderful it would be to be the subject of an article like this, a fantasy he'd had since his first year at Hogwarts.
The man lowered his hand from his brow and sighed.
"Who wrote this should make a formal apology to the tree that made up the paper for the article. The interviewer was worthy of the Prophet than the Contemporary Potions."
"Uh...?"
The Master snorted lowly.
"A complete trash, I mean. Anyway, you must be interested in potions, Snape, to read that magazine. I'll look forward to seeing your performance in Potions this year."
"...Yes, sir."
The boy replied softly; his Potions grades were excellent, but he was somehow not confident enough to boast it in front of this stern-looking young Potions Master, who looked more like an Auror than a scholar.
Master Peverell, his expression unchanged, bluntly changed the topic.
"I have heard your theory that when the Headmaster chooses the robes for the Start-of-Term feast, he sees the color of the hat he will wear at the End-of-Term feast through divination and matches the color. A true 4th-dimensional styling that transcends time. A crazy theory, but an interesting one."
"...Uh... I..." "...That is..."
"And Evans. That ancient color-blindness curse you mentioned was pretty plausible hypothesis, and if you ever find a counter-curse, be sure to let me know. I'd like to try it out behind the Headmaster's back."
"Eh... pardon?"
Before Lily could stammer out a reply, Master Peverell had closed the cabin door shut and was walking to the next compartment. The two students stared at each other, their jaws dropping.
"...He heard the whole thing from the beginning!"
"We're so fucked."
"He's the new professor, right? Potions, probably? Our points turn negative from day one?"
"Yeah, that's my bet."
"...Who'd closed the cabin door?"
"Not me. You came in later."
"...Sorry."
The bemoaning of the two pussies continued for several more minutes.
Then, unable to resist her curiosity, Lily tugged the Potions magazine from Severus's hand and opened it to the interview the young master had so lamented about.
"...Uh, well. A bit... sensationalized, I see."
The girl blushed slightly as she read the magazine article, which dramatized Master Peverell's short year-and-a-half-long career, beginning with the words "Mystery! Emergence of a Handsome Young Battle Mage" in early 1974 and ending with conferral of the Potion Master's title on him.
Despite Professor Peverell's earlier sarcasm about the interviewer being worthy of the Daily Prophet, some of the phrases in the article read like they belonged in the Witch Weekly, rather than the Prophet. "A potions master with emerald-green eyes that held a mysterious sadness"? Ouch.
The interview article was smudged with hand-prints, so she knew Sev had been reading it intently. It was cringey even for a girl, but Sev seemed to be impressed, not sarcastic.
"...I didn't expect to read a tabloid celeb interview in Contemporary Potions. Are we to believe this man's accomplishments as written?"
Severus nodded.
"He's the first potions master in over a decade, Lily. And he's from a foreign country, so I'm sure the verification process was more rigorous. I couldn't get hold of the thesis he submitted in the spring, only the abstract, but I didn't find any loopholes. I'd love to get my hands on the original recipe if I ever get the chance."
"Hmm..."
Lily skimmed Master Peverell's article again. Potions was one of her favorite subjects, but she wasn't one of those people who, like Sev, spent her pennies on Potions magazines to keep up with what was going on in the world of academia. Her primary interest was far more distant.
"It must be the Wolfsbane."
"...How did you know?"
Severus's mouth dropped open. Lily blinked.
"Don't you remember? You studied Medieval European magic with me in third year, and one of the trends in Medieval Eastern European magic in the thirteenth century was the study of how to control werewolves with a combination of potions and common charms, according to the Ilkaia theory. The research went in many directions, but one common ingredient in the potions was the poisonous herb wolfsbane. In the interview, he said that he got the idea from a medieval potion reenactment. So Wolfsbane is the only solution that makes sense."
"Uh..." The boy blinked his eyes.
She was a... genius. He had known it, but this girl, Lils, was a bona-fide genius. Does she have a perfect memory or something?
All Severus could remember from his studies two years ago was how high Lily had stacked the dusty medieval books on her desk and read them with the pass to the restricted section that she'd half-cheated from the Gryffindor Deputy-head. The number of volumes were well into triple digits, he was sure.
"I'd like to get my hands on Peverell's treatise, too, Sev, but it won't be possible to brew the potion from the recipe as you're hoping. You remember those theoretical texts you read on shelf 48 in the library's restricted section? Medieval Eastern European magic was dominated by the Mathrope's Third Law, which essentially required an adult level of magical core to brew a potion, and a powerful one at that, rated in the top 10 percent. This is contrary to the general trend of modern potion preparations... Sev, why the blank look on your face?"
'Hearing you so obsessed with magic, I thought you were an incorrigible case of genius.' was what has been going through his head, but wrong words came out of his lips.
"...Because you sound like an incorrigible nutcase obsessed with old magic."
THWACK!
The sound of a 400-page quarterly magazine slamming into the boy's back was quite spectacular. Severus sighed ruefully.
Well. I deserved it this time.
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