Had he misjudged his dear uncle?
Snape, methodically rinsing out a cauldron, barely acknowledged Ian's entrance. Ian, puzzled, stepped forward and picked up one of the grayish potions. He uncorked the bottle and sniffed, frowning slightly.
The ingredients were correct… but something was off. The scent was slightly different, and the color was entirely wrong, it bore no resemblance to the Unlimited Power Potion.
"Is this your own variation?" Ian asked curiously, but Snape's expression only darkened as he began preparing fresh cauldrons.
There were six in total.
Their number and arrangement were an exact replica of Ian's setup when he had been caught brewing potions in the Room of Requirement. The resemblance was uncanny, sending a strange déjà vu through Ian's mind.
"What exactly is going on here?" Ian's gaze flickered across the room, landing on a single potion bottle glowing with a dazzling golden hue.
"Don't touch that!" Snape moved with uncharacteristic urgency, stepping forward to seize the potion. But Ian, quicker, had already snatched it up, pulling out the stopper.
The scent hit him at once.
It was something he had never brewed before.
But it was unmistakable.
"You used my hair for this, didn't you?!" Ian's temper flared, he had never been so furious. The distinct scent of Polyjuice Potion left no room for doubt. He had suspected it, but now he had caught Snape red-handed!
Polyjuice Potion required twenty-one days to brew, Merlin's beard, this uncle of his was truly insidious. Did he have a habit of impersonating people for dubious purposes?
"I have no idea what you're rambling about." Snape's eyes flickered momentarily before he yanked the bottle from Ian's grasp. "Think, you foolish boy, what possible reason would I have to take on your appearance?"
Ian's mind churned for a moment before the answer clicked into place.
"To brew potions!"
Snape exhaled sharply, as though frustrated that Ian had taken so long to arrive at the obvious conclusion.
"Yes. Now, get to it." Ian remained rooted to the spot.
Snape's jaw clenched. "What do you want?"
Ian crossed his arms. "I want to know why you needed to impersonate me."
Truly, Snape was beyond eccentric. Even Cho Chang would call this behavior suspicious.
"I've only used it within this office," Snape admitted begrudgingly, sinking into a chair as though the conversation had drained him. He clearly had no intention of elaborating further.
"Uh?"
Ian was struggling to comprehend this logic.
"Just brew the potion."
Snape's expression soured under Ian's scrutiny, looking as though he had swallowed something unpleasant.
Perhaps he was waiting for the potion to succeed just once, some kind of personal challenge? That wouldn't be the worst thing. It would save him the effort of eliminating ingredients through trial and error.
"Fine, Professor," Ian relented. "Forget the gold. Instead, I want you to exchange my Galleons for Muggle pounds and send them to my family for Christmas."
Snape eyed him for a moment, but whatever he saw in Ian's expression made him concede with a curt nod.
Satisfied, Ian finally stopped standing there like a stubborn gargoyle and got to work. He fell into the familiar rhythm of potion-making, his movements fluid and precise.
At first, he expected Snape to critique his technique, to offer corrections as he often did. But surprisingly, the professor remained silent, watching each step with hawk-like intensity.
Only when the deep blue potion shimmered in the cauldron, bubbling softly as it was decanted into vials, did Snape finally break his silence.
"You want six cauldrons?"
Ian handed the freshly brewed potions to Snape, eyeing the five remaining cauldrons. Just as he was about to continue, Snape, whose expression wavered between irritation and unease, abruptly shooed him out of the office.
"Get your Galleons ready!"
He had no intention of reneging on his word.
However, the way he slammed the door shut was anything but subtle.
Ian hesitated for a moment before pressing his ear against the door, attempting to listen in. Yet, all that reached him was the sound of cauldrons being cleaned.
After five minutes of this, Ian grew bored.
"Maybe I can still make it back to Defense Against the Dark Arts," he mused, still dwelling on the invaluable lesson from Grindelwald. Whatever was going on with Snape, Ian couldn't bring himself to care much.
He refused to believe Snape was incapable of brewing what he had, perhaps the professor had simply misremembered a key aspect of the ritual?
Though Snape was a Potions Master, even the best could suffer lapses in memory after too many late nights... it was possible, at least. Or perhaps, just perhaps, this potion was something only he could brew?
Hmm... Not entirely impossible. He'd ask Professor Morgan about it next time. Ian had always relied on mentors when facing particularly tricky magical problems.
Not long after Ian left the dungeons,
"What in Merlin's name?!"
Snape stared at the failed potion before him, his expression thunderous with disbelief. He had replicated Ian's method down to the smallest detail, matched the timing, followed the sequence with absolute precision,
And yet, the potion remained a dull, grayish-white. While it contained some invigorating magic, it was a far cry from the deep blue brilliance of Ian's brew.
"My steps were flawless. I even transformed into him... and it still didn't work?" Snape paced furiously across his office, scowling as he dissected every aspect of the process in his mind.
Dumbledore wouldn't be back until evening, and consulting him was out of the question.
Perhaps the Restricted Section might hold the answers. After all, that insufferable brat had claimed his recipe came from there.
With that thought, Snape swept out of his office, striding swiftly down the corridor. The sudden movement startled several of the castle's resident cats, who scattered in alarm.
Before he could reach the library,
"Ah, Severus, a troubled aura surrounds you."
Snape came to an abrupt halt.
Professor Sybill Trelawney stood before him, her wild curls even more disheveled than usual. She clutched a crystal ball in one hand, her oversized glasses magnifying her unfocused gaze.
"You seem distressed... yes, yes, I can sense it..." She extended a spindly hand, as if reaching for his very essence.
Snape's lip curled.
"I am not one of your students, Trelawney. Spare me the theatrics."
He briskly shook off her grasp and turned away, continuing toward the library.
But then, Trelawney suddenly stiffened. Her head jerked back, eyes rolling into her skull as she shuddered violently. And when she spoke, her voice was eerily different, deeper, as though someone, or something, else was speaking through her.
"Why not seek out the book you acquired in your youth? The one containing the formula for the Squib Revival Potion..."
Snape froze.
A sharp breath caught in his throat as he turned back, staring at Trelawney in pure shock.
She couldn't possibly know that.
His fingers twitched at his sides, but before he could respond, Trelawney convulsed again, her body jerking as if breaking free from invisible chains.
"What's the matter with you, Severus?" She asked, her voice light and airy once more, as if nothing had happened.
Snape's gaze remained locked on her, searching for any sign that she remembered what she had just said.
There was nothing.
He let out a slow, heavy sigh.
"Nothing. I have... matters to attend to."
His tone had softened, his usual edge dulled by the unsettling encounter. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away, his pace quickening as he made his way back to his office.
The moment he stepped inside, he moved toward a hidden compartment in the stone wall, pressing a specific brick.
At his touch, the brick shimmered and transformed, revealing a book, no, not just any book. It resembled an old diary, its crimson cover practically glowing with an aura of importance.
Morgan le Fay.
Ian would have undoubtedly recognized the name if he was here.
Aside from its striking cover, the diary's pages were blank. Snape hesitated for a long moment before finally taking up a quill, pressing its tip to the parchment.
"Is the recipe for the Revival Potion incomplete?"
Ink bled onto the page, and then,
[Search results, keyword: Revival Potion. The recipe for the Revival Potion has been fully recorded. The answer you seek is not within this tome. Consider verifying from additional sources.]
Snape scowled.
"Bloody madwoman," He muttered, rubbing his temple.
If Trelawney's prophecy was nonsense, then what in Merlin's beard was wrong with Ian's so-called Unlimited Power Potion?
Just as he prepared to close the book,
The ink on the diary shifted.
New words emerged.
[Search results, keyword: Unlimited Power Potion. Precursor to the Apocalypse Potion. Non-replicable. Recipe unknown. My master once recorded its existence.]
(End of Chapter)
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