Author's Note: Originally, I planned to include a time skip after Chapter 115. However, after reading your comments and suggestions, I've decided to take a different route. Chapters 115, 116, and 117 will now serve as glimpses—snapshots in time—taken from Severus's 7th year. Thank you for your feedback, and I hope you enjoy the evolving journey!
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Julius Prince POV
Julius Prince stood motionless just beyond the imposing iron-wrought gates of Ilvermorny. The American school towered before him, sprawling and peculiar, its granite walls resonating with an electric magic that felt both alien and invigorating. The air was thick with anticipation, and he could almost taste the enchantment in the atmosphere.
"Move it, runt," muttered a disinterested third-year student behind him, giving him a brusque shove as he brushed past.
But Julius remained rooted to the spot, trapped in a mix of awe and anxiety. It wasn't until a familiar voice rang out from behind that he finally snapped back to reality.
"You're not planning to duel the castle with your eyes, are you?" the voice drawled, laced with a teasing familiarity.
Julius turned to face Severus Shafiq, his grin barely concealing the nerves churning in his stomach. "Shut up, Sev," he replied, the playful retort more an instinct than a reflection of his true feelings.
Severus stood beside him, his attire markedly different from the formal ICW robes or the polished black tailored suit preferred for public events. Instead, he wore simple school attire—casual, yet effortlessly stylish. Even so, their classmates' heads turned at his presence, and whispers swirled in the air like leaves caught in a gentle breeze.
But Julius didn't let the murmurs sway him. He took a deep breath, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders, determined to face whatever lay ahead within those mystical walls.
"You okay?" Severus asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
"Yeah." Julius swallowed hard, glancing around at the crowd that surrounded them. "I just… everyone's staring. Because of you."
Severus tilted his head slightly, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "They'll stop. Eventually."
"I don't mind," Julius admitted after a moment of contemplation. A small thrill coursed through him at the attention. "It's kind of cool."
Severus smirked faintly, his dark eyes glimmering with mischief. "Don't let it get to your head."
With that, he playfully ruffled Julius's hair, a gesture that spoke volumes of their bond. He led him forward—not as a champion in a grand tournament, nor as a prodigy who had dazzled the masses, but simply as a cousin. A steady presence in a whirlwind of excitement, embodying warmth and humanity.
In that moment, amidst the chatter and curiosity of onlookers, Julius felt a surge of loyalty. He resolved that if anyone ever dared to speak ill of Severus again, he'd be ready to defend him, ready to hex them in the teeth without a second thought.
Jonas Carter POV
Jonas Carter stood outside the potion lab door for a full twenty seconds, the weight of his decision pressing on him. Technically, the lab wasn't off-limits, but everyone knew that the third lab down the East Wing was a sanctum not meant for just anyone. It was where Shafiq worked—the boy who had captured the world's attention with his extraordinary talent and then mysteriously faded back into the quiet corridors, the swirling shadows of potion smoke cloaking him like a shroud.
Gathering his nerve, Jonas knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the stillness. Once. Twice.
Silence.
His heart raced as he swallowed hard, then pushed the door open with a hesitant shove.
The room enveloped him with warmth, the air heavy with the earthy aroma of crushed hellebore mingling with a bright, citrus scent that tickled at the back of his throat. Runes pulsed softly along the walls, their glow faint but protective—wards crafted to maintain temperature, smother sound, and dissuade any "uninvited experimentation." To his left, a stirring rod danced animatedly in a bubbling cauldron, its motion entrancing and indicative of Shafiq's mastery.
At the far end of the expansive workbench, grimly focused on a cluttered tangle of scrolls, notes, and a vibrant array of vials, was Severus Shafiq himself. He was absorbed in his work, dark hair falling over his brow as he studiously ignored Jonas's presence.
"If this isn't important, leave," Shafiq said, his voice sharp as a blade, never breaking his concentration.
Jonas felt his throat constrict as apprehension washed over him. But he forged ahead, stepping further into the room, his heart pounding like a war drum. In his left hand, he tightly clutched a tiny vial filled with cloudy green fluid, a concoction he had hoped would be the answer. In his right hand, he held a sheaf of parchment, the paper marred with ink blots and the imprint of his nervous perspiration.
"My grandfather's eyesight is getting worse," Jonas blurted, his voice shaky yet resolute. "He's a retired spell-repairer, has worked with wandmakers for decades. Now he can barely see the wands anymore."
Severus glanced up, pausing mid-thought as his pen hovered above the page.
"I tried something over the summer," Jonas began, his voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "It's a blend of kneazle-root extract and a diluted refraction charm, folded into a simmering base of mooncalf milk. It—it worked. For about ten minutes. Then he got a headache and his vision blurred worse."
He held out the vial to Severus like a peace offering, the glass catching the dim light of the room. "I know it's a mess. I just… I thought maybe… if someone smarter…"
This caught Severus's attention. The older boy, typically so composed, slowly set down his quill, a dark blue ink smudge adorning his fingertips. His sleeves were hastily rolled up to his elbows, revealing the less polished version of himself, far removed from the regal figure portrayed on the ICW posters that adorned the walls of their school.
Severus took the vial with a cautious grip and tilted it slightly, allowing the contents to swirl and sparkle under scrutiny. He inhaled the potion's scent, his brow furrowing in response.
"Valerian's wrong," he murmured, his voice steady but edged with critique. "It's too harsh. You'd overstimulate the optic nerves."
"I thought so," Jonas admitted, his cheeks betraying a flush of embarrassment as he dropped his gaze to the floor, fiddling with the hem of his robes.
"And this lacks any kind of magical binder. The effects won't hold," Severus continued, his analytical mind racing through the implications.
"I know. I didn't have access to stabilizing agents. Or a proper lab. Or a mentor," Jonas replied, the weight of his limitations evident in his voice.
Severus tilted his head slightly, considering the younger boy's desperation and potential. He examined the scribbled notes that Jonas handed over, skimming through them with an almost supernatural speed, faster than any human should reasonably read, searching for the underlying logic in the chaotic scrawl.
Then, unexpectedly, he glanced back at Jonas—not with dismissal, but with genuine curiosity.
"You used kneazle-root with mooncalf? That's clever. Insufficient, perhaps, but clever."
Jonas blinked in surprise. "Wait, really?"
Severus offered a slow nod, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as if fighting a hint of a smile. "There's a theoretical precedent in some older diagnostic potions—specifically, those designed for Auror field brews. The refractive potential was never stabilized, leading them to abandon the concept altogether. But what you've proposed is an interesting starting point."
The younger boy's mouth opened in disbelief, then quickly closed again, uncertain of how to respond.
Severus gestured to the second stool at the workbench, his tone encouraging. "Sit down. We'll test the binding agents together and see where this leads."
Without fully processing what was happening, Jonas took a seat, his mind racing to catch up. "You—you really don't mind working on this with me?"
"I have time," Severus replied simply, his expression unusually soft. "And it's a problem worth solving."
Jonas's gaze drifted to the bubbling cauldron beside him, its contents swirling with a mystical energy that captivated his attention. He barely noticed when Severus handed him a stirring charm, the delicate wand flicker almost lost on him, or when he instructed him to reset the cooling runes, the complexity of their task overshadowing the finer details. His mind was still reeling.
This was Severus Snape—the boy who had defeated the formidable Kinjo Aoi, who had crafted an impressive combat draught, and had left the British Ministry utterly embarrassed in front of the entire world. Jonus struggled to process the reality of studying alongside such a legendary figure.
He unfolded a blank scroll labeled "Sight Restoration – Draft 0" and carefully wrote "with J. Carter" beneath his own name, a gesture that signified the beginning of an important collaboration.
In the weeks that followed, the laboratory transformed into a second home for Severus. He immersed himself in his work with unwavering concentration, testing and refining the formula with meticulous care, speaking little and only when absolutely necessary. Jonas, on the other hand, found himself rapidly absorbing knowledge; in just a month, he learned more than he had during two years of rigorous coursework. He discovered how to balance a stabilizer with a sensory agent, to monitor magical saturation levels in blood samples meticulously, and to draft patent documentation that adhered to the International Confederation of Wizards' highest standards.
Through this intense process, Jonas noted Severus's peculiar habits—his tendency to forgo sleep, his excessive consumption of strong black coffee, and the way he occasionally muttered to his notes as if engaging in a spirited debate with them.
But amid this whirlwind of activity, there was a palpable trust that developed. Severus entrusted Jonas with even the smallest tasks, a sign of their budding partnership. And when the breakthrough finally arrived—when the blend of ingredients held together seamlessly, and test subjects began reporting complete restoration of their magical vision without any adverse effects—Jonas was present to witness the rare moment when Severus allowed himself a faint, elusive smile.
By the time the first snowflakes of winter began to fall, Clarity Draught had been submitted for global medical registry, a testament to their hard work and dedication.
On the front page of the submission, just below the striking heading, were two names: Severus Shafiq and Jonas Carter. The ink was still fresh, carrying an air of promise and achievement. Jonas would never forget the day those names were etched onto the paper as they meticulously cleaned the lab, an ambiance of quiet concentration enveloping them.
"You earned your name on it. Don't argue with me," Severus had insisted, his tone firm yet encouraging. In that moment, Jonas wasn't just receiving a compliment; he was being entrusted with an identity forged in shared hard work and discovery.
Jonas hadn't protested; instead, he simply smiled, a warmth spreading through him. For the first time, he didn't view Severus as merely a distant legend—a figure shrouded in mystery and accomplishment—but rather as something far more precious.
He saw in Severus a mentor, someone who understood the challenges of starting out and who was willing to guide him through the complexities that lay ahead. The realization filled Jonas with gratitude, replacing uncertainty with a sense of belonging and purpose.
Professor Langford POV
Langford read the latest iteration of the potion's formula by the flickering light of a candle, its soft glow illuminating the parchment. The clarity of the meticulously crafted formula took his breath away. The stabilizing ratio was precise, calculated down to the hundredths place, reflecting a level of accuracy that was almost surreal. The wand movements described within the text, along with the intricate magical calculations, were unnervingly perfect, a rare feat even among the most experienced potion makers.
He let out a slow breath and leaned back in his creaking chair, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. Severus was burning with a fierce intensity once more. It wasn't the tumult of rage or the itch of revenge that fueled him; it was a focus so razor-sharp and consuming that it began to unsettle Langford.
He had witnessed this phenomenon before—students who accelerated far too quickly for their age, who were driven by an insatiable hunger for knowledge or achievement, often for things they could not even articulate. Most of these bright-eyed young talents ultimately burned out, some even breaking under the intense pressure they placed upon themselves.
But Severus? He wasn't breaking. No, he was teetering on the edge of something deeper, yet he showed no signs of rest or respite.
With a determined flick of his wrist, Langford picked up his quill and began to scribble notes in the margins of the review sheet, the ink flowing smoothly as he composed his thoughts: "Potion qualifies for ICW medical patent submission. Brilliant innovation—student must be closely monitored for signs of burnout."
After pausing to reflect on his words, he tapped the parchment once with his wand, sealing it with a heavy sigh that echoed his lingering concerns for the gifted young man.
Alessandro DeLuca POV
The lab was filled with the aromatic scents of gingerroot and ash, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere. Severus hunched intently over a rune circle, his eyes shadowed from countless sleepless nights and his lips pressed into a grim line, revealing his deep concentration. Alessandro leaned against the counter, arms crossed tightly over his chest, a silent observer of his friend's relentless work.
"You're not sleeping," he said, breaking the tense silence.
"I'm working," Severus replied, his tone firm and dismissive.
"You haven't eaten in eight hours," Alessandro pointed out, worry lacing his voice.
"I'm fine," Severus insisted, though his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.
Taking a step closer, Alessandro reached into his pocket and placed a small velvet pouch beside Severus's hand, a soft jingle emanating from it.
"What's this?" Severus asked, momentarily distracted from his task.
"Protective charms," Alessandro explained. "The kind that stabilize blood pressure, ease migraines, and deflect minor curses. You're too proud to ask for help, so I made them pretty."
Severus glanced up, genuine surprise flickering across his features. "You stitched these?"
"I'm good with thread," Alessandro replied with a casual shrug, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his tone. "It's the metaphorical ones I struggle with."
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken understanding and familiarity, a bond woven through years of shared struggles and triumphs.
"Thanks," Severus murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, gratitude seeping into his words.
Alessandro smiled, but the warmth didn't reach the depths of his eyes, which held an uncharacteristic sorrow. "Just promise me you won't bleed out chasing another invention."
"I'm not planning to," Severus reassured him, trying to sound more convincing than he felt.
"Neither was I," Alessandro replied quietly, a hint of sorrow in his voice.
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the pouch behind—an unspoken reminder of their bond and the weight of unacknowledged fears lingering in the air.
Lily Evans POV
The winter sun flooded through the kitchen window, spilling a warm golden hue across the well-worn wooden table. Lily sat comfortably, cradling a steaming mug of tea, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she engrossed herself in the latest issue of The Alchemist's Eye.
The headline caught her attention, printed in bold serif font:
*Clarity Draught: A Permanent Solution for Magical Vision Repair*
Invented by Severus Shafiq & Jonas Carter
For a moment, she simply stared at the headline, her heart racing with hope and disbelief. The article unfolded the groundbreaking details of the potion, touting its revolutionary nature—remarkably, there were no side effects, no chance of relapse, and no more reliance on cumbersome magical frames or corrective charms. It had already successfully passed the first phase of the International Confederation of Wizards' trials, a significant milestone.
Lily carefully lowered the paper, her fingers unconsciously tracing the delicate rims of her spectacles as she absorbed the implications. "Brilliant," she whispered, awe lacing her voice. "You actually did it."
Her mind drifted back to a time long ago when Severus had playfully joked about inventing a potion that would fix her eyes, so she wouldn't look like a "librarian-in-training." She had laughed at the time, not realizing he had been serious in his ambition.
Seated at the other end of the table, her mother blinked away tears, a mix of pride and nostalgia reflecting in her eyes as she absorbed Lily's quiet excitement.
In a separate column, Slughorn's words echoed with a wistful tone, tinged with petulance: "A remarkable achievement. It's a shame such brilliance couldn't be nurtured under our roof." His remarks hung thick in the air, a reminder of lost opportunities and the weight of potential unfulfilled.
Lily remained silent, a world of unspoken thoughts swirling in her mind. In a box hidden away in the attic were all the letters she had never gathered the courage to send to him. Each one contained words she had longed to share but never could. She wondered if it was too late to pick up her quill and write once more, to reach out across the years and the silence that had grown between them.
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