Glenn left the Great Hall and made his way down to the dungeons, stopping before Professor Snape's office door. He knocked twice, the sound echoing in the stone corridor.
Knock knock.
He stood waiting, but silence stretched from within. Glenn raised his hand and knocked again, more firmly this time.
"...Enter."
After a long moment, Snape's voice emerged through the door, muffled and distinctly unwelcoming. Having received permission, Glenn pushed open the heavy oak door.
Snape's office greeted him with its familiar gloom. Hundreds of glass jars lined the shelves in perfect rows, their contents—bizarre plant and animal specimens—floating in potions of every conceivable color. The air hung thick with the acrid scent of brewing ingredients and old magic. On the cabinet where magical components were stored, Glenn immediately spotted several conspicuous gaps where bottles should have been.
Blood-Replenishing Potion, Skele-Gro, Pepperup Potion... Glenn catalogued the missing ingredients mentally. Strengthening Solution, Wideye Potion... and bitter-root extract.
The pattern was unmistakable. Glancing at Snape, who hunched over seven or eight bubbling cauldrons with the expression of a man forced to tend garden gnomes, Glenn pieced together exactly what was happening.
Dumbledore had clearly made a request—Snape was brewing healing potions for Sirius Black, whom he'd nearly killed the previous day.
The Strengthening Solution and Wideye Potion would ensure that when Sirius drank his medicine, he'd be fully alert to experience every moment of the healing process—and the considerable discomfort that came with mending shattered bones and torn flesh. The bitter-root was simply to make the whole experience as unpalatable as possible.
Glenn said nothing about Snape's petty revenge. Given the professor's expression of barely contained loathing, it was probably a miracle he wasn't adding Bubotuber pus to the mix.
Since Snape was clearly occupied—and working on something he despised with every fiber of his being—interrupting him seemed unwise. Besides, Glenn had been meaning to ask about certain advanced potion techniques...
After a moment's consideration, Glenn stepped forward and smoothly took control of several cauldrons that Snape couldn't manage simultaneously. The professor's hands were full, literally, and Glenn could help accelerate the process while getting some practice with complex brewing.
Snape said nothing about the uninvited assistance. He simply shifted to make room, a tacit acceptance that spoke volumes about their unusual working relationship.
Anyone else would have been hexed for presuming to touch Severus Snape's potions. But Glenn had earned this privilege through countless hours of shared work—sometimes voluntary, sometimes because Snape had essentially conscripted him and Hermione as unpaid assistants, much to the latter's private complaints.
With Glenn handling half the brewing, Snape's efficiency increased dramatically. Two skilled hands working in harmony achieved far more than simple addition would suggest, especially when one belonged to an undisputed Potions master.
They moved like a well-oiled machine, completing in minutes what might have taken Snape hours alone. As the last drops of potion swirled into their respective vials, Snape finally looked up.
"What do you want."
Even addressing someone who'd just saved him considerable time, Snape's tone remained flat as winter stone.
Glenn wouldn't have been any warmer in his position.
"My earpiece."
Straight to the point—the way they both preferred it.
"Desk drawer. Right side, third down."
Snape indicated the location without looking up from his final batch of healing draught.
This was their dynamic: no pleasantries, maximum efficiency, mutual respect expressed through competence rather than courtesy.
Glenn retrieved the small magical device and was halfway to the door when Snape's voice stopped him cold.
"I need one of your rifles."
Glenn turned slowly, studying the professor's expression. Snape wasn't looking at him, but his hands had stilled over the cauldron.
"Intended target, required range, preferred caliber, timeline for deployment?"
The clinical questions seemed to catch Snape off guard. He was quiet for several heartbeats before answering.
"Peter Pettigrew. When the Ministry transports him."
"The truth has been verified?"
"Dumbledore examined Black's memories. No evidence of tampering."
So Peter Pettigrew was confirmed as the real traitor. Snape's hatred had found its proper target at last.
"Dumbledore's already contacted the Ministry about this, I assume... but I can't recommend that course of action."
Glenn's tone remained conversational, as if discussing the weather. "First, precision shooting requires extensive training and environmental calculation. You've never handled firearms. The probability of a successful hit at any meaningful distance approaches zero."
"Second, if Pettigrew dies under suspicious circumstances immediately after leaving Hogwarts, both the school and Dumbledore will face Ministry scrutiny. That creates complications none of us need."
"Since when do you care about complications?"
Snape's eyebrow arched, his voice carrying a note of dark amusement.
"Hermione and I still have two years here. I prefer my education without additional Ministry interference."
Glenn paused, then added with characteristic directness: "However, if you're determined to proceed, I could handle the contract. I have considerably more experience in this area, and my success rate remains perfect."
Snape didn't bother asking about Glenn's mysterious background or what "contracts" might entail. The boy collected secrets like other students collected Chocolate Frog cards.
"No."
Despite Glenn's implicit guarantee, Snape shook his head.
"I will kill him myself. Preferably after ensuring he experiences every possible variation of agony."
Ah. Glenn nodded understanding. This wasn't about efficiency—it was about personal satisfaction.
"In that case, I have several strategic approaches we could discuss."
"You could retain my services as a consultant."
Glenn's expression remained perfectly serious. "I occasionally work as an action advisor... though admittedly, I've never had paying clients. Usually I just implement the plans myself."
The offer hung in the dungeon air between them, as casually delivered as if Glenn were suggesting they collaborate on a particularly challenging potion.
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