At Hogwarts, what mattered most?
Classes, of course.
Whether a Basilisk was slithering through the castle petrifying students or a wanted fugitive with a reputation for blowing up Muggle streets was rumored to be lurking nearby, classes still went on as scheduled.
A low, resonant bell echoed across the damp grounds from the castle, marking the end of Herbology.
Immediately, a rustle of movement filled the greenhouse as the seventh-years set down their soil-covered tools and filed out in small groups.
Following the gently sloping lawn, Snape and his classmates made their way toward Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest for their Care of Magical Creatures class.
"What do you think today's lesson will be?" Patrick Abbott asked. "Professor Kettleburn said there'd be a 'surprise' this week."
"It's been seven years," Snape muttered, curling his lip. "And you still believe in his surprises? The fact he's managed not to lose any more limbs over these seven years is already a miracle."
Pandora laughed softly. "I actually like his classes."
As they neared Hagrid's hut, an odd clack-clack noise reached their ears, mixed with faint poofing sounds.
Professor Kettleburn sat in his custom-made magical wheelchair, with Hagrid standing at his side.
The elderly Care of Magical Creatures professor was wearing an especially bright orange-red hat that contrasted sharply with his missing left arm. In Hagrid's hand was a small black puppy straining against its collar, whimpering and wriggling with apparent interest in the nearby nailed-shut wooden crates on the ground.
"Fang, no—stay back." Hagrid tugged sharply on the leash, yanking the puppy up into the air. He hurried forward and caught it in his arms, rubbing his bearded face affectionately against its tiny body.
"Good morning, Professor Kettleburn, Hagrid," Snape greeted them with a wave, though his eyes lingered on the squirming pup. "Hagrid, is that your new pet?"
"That's right!" Hagrid beamed. "His name's Fang—such a lovely little hunting dog! He's small now," he added proudly, "but he'll grow to over three hundred pounds! Then he'll be—"
"Even cuter, I suppose?" Snape cut in. "Your definition of 'cute' is always... quite singular."
"Heh heh." Hagrid chuckled, holding Fang up for them to see. "He's a brave little pup, always so curious. Look at him!"
He set Fang down.
"Really?" Snape asked dubiously. He vaguely remembered—some future event yet to occur—when Harry and Draco were serving detention in the Forbidden Forest and Fang had bolted at the first sight of Voldemort's cloaked figure, just like Draco.
To everyone's surprise, Fang trotted over to Snape's feet, wagging his tail enthusiastically and slobbering all over the hem of his black robes, leaving a large wet stain.
"Looks like he likes you!" Hagrid said cheerfully. "Fang doesn't have many friends yet. I saw that Filch has a cat—Mrs. Norris—and someday I'd love to introduce them! Though Filch doesn't seem to like me much…"
"That's easy," Snape raised an eyebrow. "I know Mrs. Norris. Give Fang to me one day and I'll handle the introductions."
"Really?" Hagrid's eyes gleamed, suspiciously moist. "That'd be wonderful! I hope they become friends."
At that moment, Professor Kettleburn clapped the armrest of his wheelchair and beckoned the students closer.
"Right, everyone's here—let's begin! Today's surprise lesson is…" He grinned, the scars across his face pulling tight with excitement. "A Manticore!"
There were several sharp intakes of breath from the crowd. Snape turned his head and noticed the crates on the ground were shaking slightly, now emitting a series of louder thuds.
"The Manticore," Professor Kettleburn continued, his voice trembling slightly with excitement, "originates from Greece and is extremely dangerous. It has the head of a man, the body of a lion, and the tail of a scorpion. Like the Chimaera, it's both rare and lethal, infamous for the humming sound it makes while devouring its prey.
"As far as we know, Manticore hides repel nearly all known spells. Be warned—anyone stung by its tail dies instantly. That's why it's classified as XXXXX by the Ministry—the highest level of danger, known to have killed wizards and impossible to train or domesticate."
Snape's thoughts immediately turned to the diary hidden inside his robes. If Manticore hide really could repel nearly all magic… perhaps it could be used...
"This kind of creature—are you really planning a live demonstration?" Mary asked nervously, eyeing the shaking crates.
"Don't worry." Professor Kettleburn gave a mysterious smile and nodded to Hagrid. "Open them."
Hagrid picked up a crowbar and began prying open the crates. As the first lid came off, the students erupted into a chorus of shrieks.
"Ew!" someone yelped, jumping back.
Snape pushed forward, nose wrinkling at the stench. Disgusting was the perfect word for the creature inside.
It resembled a mutated, shell-less lobster—pale greyish-white, slimy, with legs sticking out in all directions. There didn't seem to be a head.
As Hagrid opened the rest of the crates, the students saw that each one held about a hundred of the creatures, each six inches long and crawling all over one another, bumping clumsily into the crate walls.
A heavy, rotten stench—like spoiled fish—filled the air. Most bizarrely, every few seconds, one of the creatures would emit a small spark from its tail and shoot forward with a sharp pop!
"Freshly hatched!" Professor Kettleburn announced proudly. "You'll be raising them yourselves! A chance to learn something truly new!"
"These are Manticores?" a Hufflepuff student asked skeptically.
"Er… not quite," Kettleburn admitted with a grin. "Manticores are far too dangerous. In fact, in 1296, one attacked a wizard in Scotland and had to be released—oh—not because that was legal, mind you—just because no one dared approach it."
"Then what are these?" Pandora asked curiously, stepping closer despite the ongoing sparks.
"I call them Blast-Ended Skrewts," said Professor Kettleburn. "What do you think?"
"They're adorable," Pandora said sincerely. "Are they hybrids?"
"Yes indeed," Kettleburn said with an admiring glance. "A cross between a Manticore and a Fire Crab.
"Actually, it was your paper on magical creature hybridization that inspired this. I asked a friend in Greece to help breed them. The Ministry forbids importing Manticores—but Skrewts don't fall under that regulation."
"This sounds like a serious violation of the Magical Breeding Experiments Ban of 1965," Bertram Aubrey pointed out sharply. "Also, why are we raising them? Are they on the N.E.W.T. syllabus?"
"British laws don't apply to Greek wizards," Kettleburn winked. "As for the exam... Children, knowledge isn't just for tests. You're the best students in all of Britain. Studying just to pass exams is a waste."
"Now, your task today is to feed them." He waved his half-arm casually. "Try different foods—I'm not sure what they like yet. I've prepared giant maggots, ant eggs, frog livers, and green snake flesh. Try them all—see what they'll eat. That's the wonder of magic!"
Snape pulled on his dragon-hide gloves and dropped a handful of slippery ant eggs into the crate. The Skrewts ignored the food—and began attacking each other instead. The weaker ones were blasted open and swiftly devoured.
"Professor!" Hagrid cried. "They're eating each other!"
Professor Kettleburn quickly instructed the students to back away while Hagrid separated the Skrewts into more crates. Amid the chaos, Aubrey let out a scream.
"Ow! It hurt me!"
"Don't worry," Kettleburn said calmly. "They're not real Manticores—the sting won't kill you. Our Greek friends confirmed that."
"It exploded on my hand!" Aubrey yelled, showing a nasty burn.
"Hence the name Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid grunted, examining the wound. "Go to the hospital wing—if you wait, it'll scar."
Before leaving, Snape stepped closer to the professor.
"Professor, are there any Manticores in Britain right now?"
"Outside of Greece? I doubt it," Kettleburn replied. "Germany used to keep them as prison guards, but after Nurmengard was decommissioned, the Manticores were supposedly disposed of."
"What about the claim that their hides repel spells?" Snape asked cautiously. Nurmengard… the very place Newt had broken in to rescue his brother, Theseus.
"Only applies to adults," Kettleburn said. "The more mature they are, the more resistant. Some say the magical resistance increases with the number of wizards the Manticore has devoured."
"I see." Snape shrugged. "Goodbye, Professor."
On the way back to the castle, he finally had time to contemplate another dangerous idea: using that long, thin goblin-made dagger to kill the Basilisk—letting it absorb its venom—so it could serve as a weapon against Horcruxes.
The thought lingered in his mind until Pandora murmured at the dinner table, "The lab is ready. I've contacted Moaning Myrtle."
"Oh, great," Snape nodded. "Let's head over afterward." Using the Room of Requirement would make preparations easier.
As he stepped into the Entrance Hall and started up the stairs, he saw Lily coming down toward him.
"Severus," she said brightly, her green eyes lighting up the moment she saw him. "How did your trip to the Muggle stores go?"
Only then did Snape remember the plan to mass-produce the Wolfsbane Potion.
He had one foot on the stairs—and now found himself wedged between two girls.
"I got all the Muggle supplies," he said dryly. "Flasks, droppers, everything. But I couldn't find all the ingredients—I only managed to get Australian Opaleye blood. The Occamy eggs are out of stock everywhere."
Pandora stepped up beside him.
"I was worried about that before you even left," Lily said, her expression now calm. She slowly pulled a cloth pouch from her robes.
"I knew Occamy eggs were rare in the West, so I doubted you'd find any.
"On Professor Dumbledore's advice, I wrote to the author of Fantastic Beasts, Newt Scamander," she continued, her green gaze drifting across both of them. "I explained our project."
"Fortunately, Mr. Scamander replied that, based on his understanding of Occamies, it's not the yolk or the white that matters in the Wolfsbane Potion—but the shell."
"He sent us quite a few shells." She shook the pouch in her hand. "We've got everything now. Shall we brew the potion together?"
A cold sweat began to form down Snape's back.
He was caught between two roads—one leading to the Room of Requirement with Pandora, and the other to brewing with Lily.
A certain misquoted poem came to mind: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and one led to death. The other… also led to death.
Just as he stood frozen, Pandora suddenly said, "You want to brew the potion, Severus? We should do it there—you know it has all the magical equipment you'll need."
There? Snape thought bitterly. And let you two be under the same roof?
"What place?" Lily asked calmly, turning to Pandora.
"Oh, just a lab we've been using for potions," Pandora replied, climbing a few more steps to stand beside her. "We've been doing all our experiments there."
"Anyone else use it?" Lily asked.
"Um..." Pandora's expression turned odd. "No, just us."
"Let's all go, then." Lily smiled at her.
"Alright. Follow me." Pandora nodded and led the way upstairs.
Lily quickened her pace to walk beside her.
"Uh..." Snape faltered behind them, feeling like a Galleon caught between two Nifflers, ready to be torn in half. "I'm not sure I'm feeli—"
Both girls turned at once and silently stared at him.
"Ah. Never mind. Let's go," he said at last, trudging up after them.
Fighting Basilisks and Manticores might actually be easier, he thought.
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