"Tsk..."
Snape scowled at the fading white phoenix Patronus.
Clearly annoyed, he set down the potion bottle and glanced at little Lily, finally asleep. He instructed Mrs. Marianne to watch over her, then swiftly returned to his office, grabbing a stash of fresh nutritional potions.
Blake had looted all his previous stock—this batch was painstakingly remade.
Now it looked like Blake would end up with them anyway.
"And that old fool Dumbledore just expects me to hand them over? Does he think Blake—a walking ox—can drink this much potion?"
Despite the grumbling, Snape moved quickly. Dumbledore summoning him directly with a Patronus meant the matter was urgent—especially with a specific request for potions.
At the Headmaster's door, the gargoyle leapt aside without prompting.
No password?
Frowning, Snape stormed up the spiral staircase, robes billowing like wings.
"Gulp gulp—hic!"
Snape entered to find Blake chugging a potion like it was water.
His face turned green. Who drinks nutritional potions like that?
"Aha! Severus, just in time!" Blake said, tossing aside an empty vial. He grabbed one from Snape's hand and drained it, his grip so tight the bottle audibly creaked.
Snape's eyes bulged. "You're letting him do this?!"
Dumbledore and Dean Bohan watched silently as Blake downed potion after potion.
"There's not much choice," Dumbledore said helplessly. "How many more do you have? He'll starve otherwise."
"Starve?" Snape echoed. "He's already had enough to feed a hundred people for a week!"
Snape surveyed the empty vials littering the room—his own creations.
This wasn't just wasteful. It was medically absurd. A single bottle of this high-grade potion should have been more than enough.
Even Lupin, after transformation, only needed a small dose to recover.
Blake, meanwhile, reached out. "One more…"
Suppressing a groan, Snape handed over the rest.
"What's going on here?"
As Blake continued drinking, Dumbledore offered a quick explanation. Snape already knew about Blake's unusual origins, so the explanation was easier.
"The dementors drained his positive emotions. That triggered an overload of negativity… and a physical transformation," Dumbledore said.
Snape grimaced. "So… his body's evolving?"
Blake nodded between gulps. "Yeah. I don't know what conditions my future self used, but it seems the process is underway. It's positive, I think."
"Positive?" Snape said coldly. "If this means guzzling gallons of potion every day—"
Blake held up a hand. "Relax. It's temporary. Once the evolution's complete, my physical stability should return. Unless I'm critically weakened again, I won't need this much."
"Until the next evolution," Snape snapped. "Maybe I should start mass-producing potions full-time."
Unbothered, Blake chuckled. "Actually, all this drinking gave me an idea for improving the potion. If I'm right, we won't need nearly as much."
Normally, Snape would tear such arrogance apart with biting sarcasm. But this was Blake.
Instead, he narrowed his eyes. "Let's see it."
Blake spread a parchment on the ground, tapped it, and let writing appear by magic—he didn't trust his fluctuating strength to hold a pen without breaking it. The parchment floated to Snape while Blake downed another bottle.
Snape read silently.
After a long pause, he lowered the parchment and stared at Blake.
The formula looked… brilliant.
Not perfect. But close—disturbingly close. And clearly effective.
Snape clenched his jaw. "Hmm. So-so."
Blake smirked. He could read Snape's true reaction through the system interface.
"If you're impressed, you can just say it," he teased.
"Impressed?" Snape scoffed. "Not like I'm drinking it. If your own recipe kills you, that's your problem."
With a dramatic swirl of his cloak, Snape marched out—still clutching the parchment tightly.
No one pointed it out, but they all knew he was off to brew the new formula.
Dean Bohan turned to Blake. "I knew you weren't normal… but this level of genius? Not ordinary at all."
He had been briefed on Blake's origins. As a medical expert, he needed full transparency.
At first, Bohan had been stunned. Artificial life? Created humans?
Now, he accepted it.
Blake hesitated. "Dean Bohan… does knowing that my other father is Grindelwald change how you see me?"
Bohan waved it off. "Grindelwald was a monster. But people can't choose their origins. You're not him, and you have Albus's blood too. That counts for something."
He had lived through Grindelwald's reign and lost friends to it—but he saw Blake as his own person.
Blake beamed. "I'm glad you trust me, Dean."
"You're looking better now," Bohan noted.
"Yeah," Blake patted his round belly with a burp. "Think I'm full."
He remained seated, wary of accidentally destroying something with his evolving strength. To test control, he pulled out a piece of enchanted mithril and casually molded it into a ball.
Dumbledore and Bohan stared.
No spell. Just raw pressure.
That kind of strength—giant-level, easily.
Blake glanced up sheepishly. "Gotta practice... I might break someone's bones just shaking hands."
"With that grip?" Bohan chuckled. "They'll need full body reconstruction."
—
Back in his lab, Snape gazed at the glowing new batch of potion.
It was perfect.
The improved formula used two-thirds fewer ingredients than his original version—and had better efficiency.
And Blake developed it in under an hour.
Monster.
Snape mulled over a strange thought: maybe the future belonged to Blake. And maybe, it would last a long time.
Given Blake's body, he'd likely live far longer than most wizards.
Snape remembered Blake once tried to recruit him.
He thought of little Lily… all the things he couldn't give her.
Maybe… it was time to say yes.
—
"Okay," Blake muttered, tossing the mithril ball. "I'm getting used to this."
This time, there were no fingerprints on the ball—he was finally learning to manage his strength.
Mithril was considered soft, magically speaking. Too much force would leave marks.
"How do you feel?" Bohan asked, wand already casting a diagnostic spell. (Promise is good)
A moment later, Bohan blinked in disbelief.
"Blake… your organs alone are over thirty times stronger than a normal wizard's!"
He shook his head. "Now I understand what you meant by evolution."
Blake paused, letting the words sink in.
He'd always helped magical beasts evolve—but now he was experiencing it himself.
Wait.
Magical beast evolution…
Blake's mind raced. He remembered his earliest days at Hogwarts, experimenting with Druidic magic and evolution theory. He'd upgraded Big Bear from a common animal into a magical one, and eventually a humanoid form.
Could it be…?
Had his future self used that same research—combined with biotechnology—to transform himself?
"Dean Bohan," Blake said slowly, "Does that mean... I'm basically a magical beast in human form now?"
Bohan chuckled. "That's one way to put it."
He put away his wand. The results were conclusive.
After full nourishment, Blake had transcended human limits.
Blake turned to Dumbledore. "Professor… can I run an experiment?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "What kind of experiment?"
"I want you to hit me with a spell. Directly."
Dumbledore frowned.
Oh no. Has the potion messed with his brain?
=============
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