Sean took a deep breath, steeling himself, and knocked on the door of Snape's office.
The moment his knuckles rapped against the heavy wood, Blaise practically leaped away, flattening himself against the opposite wall of the corridor. Even for a Slytherin, it seemed, a private audience with their Head of House was an experience to be avoided at all costs.
Sean shot his friend a helpless look. Blaise's reaction was a bit extreme. Professor Snape was merely cold, vindictive, and ruthless with his point deductions, possessed a tongue sharper than a cursed dagger, and radiated an aura of pure, unadulterated menace. Other than that, he was perfectly fine.
"Enter." The single word, as clipped and sharp as ever, echoed from within.
Sean pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Snape looked up from the parchment he was grading, his black eyes narrowing as he saw who it was. A flicker of something—perhaps deep-seated weariness—crossed his sallow features. He knew Sean was one of his most gifted students, but he was also keenly aware of the boy's talent for attracting and creating trouble.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice a low drawl that promised no pleasantries. "Speak."
"Professor," Sean began, choosing his words carefully. "I need to borrow some... a batch of Potions ingredients."
The moment the words left his mouth, Snape's already unpleasant expression curdled into something truly foul. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. In that instant, Sean suddenly, deeply, understood Blaise's terror. The man before him was terrifying.
Sean took an involuntary step back. "Uh, Professor, I will return them," he said quickly, his voice a little strained. "In one week. I will return everything, I promise. There will be no shortages."
"Mr. Bulstrode," Snape hissed, his voice dangerously soft. "Do you have any idea what you are asking?"
Sean took another breath, this one steadier. He met his professor's gaze. "I do, Professor. I know exactly what I'm asking. And I truly need these ingredients."
"Are the resources you acquire from Mr. Pucey not sufficient to satisfy your... extracurricular enterprises?"
Sean wasn't surprised Snape knew about his arrangement with Andy. Despite his detached, almost disdainful demeanor, their Head of House missed nothing. He was the silent, all-seeing eye of Slytherin.
"Professor, Andy has encountered some... difficulties," Sean explained. "He is my friend. I do not wish to see him dragged into the mire because of the dirty business of those pure-blood families. I want to pull him out."
Snape leaned back in his chair, his long fingers steepled before him. "Mr. Bulstrode, you are aware that the ingredients in this office are not solely my own. Many were purchased by the school. I am merely their steward."
"I will return the school's ingredients first, Professor. I will not make things difficult for you."
A long, tense silence filled the office. Snape's dark eyes bored into Sean, searching for any sign of deception, of weakness. Finally, he spoke.
"Three papers," he said, his voice flat and final. "Published in The Golden Cauldron. Before you graduate."
A wave of pure relief washed over Sean. He broke into a relieved grin. "Thank you, Professor. Thank you very much."
"Take what you need. Then leave. Do not disturb me further."
"Yes, Professor."
Sean didn't waste the opportunity. He moved quickly to the ingredient cabinets that lined the office walls, his eyes scanning the carefully labeled jars. The ingredients here were rare and expensive; he chose carefully, selecting only what was absolutely necessary for the high-level potions on Andy's list. The more common ingredients were stored in the classroom warehouse next door. Snape's permission granted him access to those as well.
"Professor, I'm going to the warehouse now. Thank you for your time."
Snape didn't look up from his reading. Sean offered a respectful bow to his professor's back and then quickly let himself out.
As the heavy door closed behind him, Sean let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He knew Snape had made a significant exception for him. Any other student would have been flayed with sarcasm, if not thrown out bodily. His Dean's... "heavy favoritism"... had its benefits. Even if the price was a seemingly impossible number of academic papers.
"Sean!" Blaise whispered from his hiding spot, his eyes wide with awe. "You actually made it out of the Dean's office alive."
Sean just rolled his eyes, ignoring his friend's theatrics. He thrust the bag of rare ingredients into Blaise's arms. "Tonight, you give it your all. Drink revitalization draughts like water if you have to. From now until noon tomorrow, every potion on this list needs to be ready."
"Sean, even with a full night and morning... I don't know if that's enough time."
"Of course it isn't," Sean replied, already moving toward the Potions classroom. "Which is why I won't be brewing them one at a time. Now stop talking. We're here. You help me sort and pack."
They slipped into the empty classroom and opened the door to the supply warehouse. Sean began to move through the shelves, pulling down jars and pouches of the more common ingredients. The sheer quantity was staggering, but it was what he needed. Blaise stood behind him, diligently sorting the items Sean handed him into smaller bags before placing them in a larger sack.
They were about to leave, each carrying a heavy bag, when Blaise, who was following Sean out of the warehouse, tripped on the doorframe. He stumbled, crashing into a dusty old storage cabinet. The cabinet door flew open, and a shower of old books and other miscellaneous junk spilled onto the floor.
"Are you alright?" Sean asked, setting his own bag down to help his clumsy friend. He knelt, beginning to pick up the scattered items.
As he was putting a stack of yellowed books back into the cabinet, he heard Blaise let out a small "hmm."
"This one's interesting," Blaise said, a note of teasing amusement in his voice. "I wonder who it belonged to. They called themselves 'the Half-Blood Prince.' Strange."
The Half-Blood Prince?
The name struck Sean like a physical blow. He froze, then slowly turned to look at Blaise. His friend was holding a battered, heavily used copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He knew at once whose textbook it was.
"Blaise," he said, his voice quiet. "Let me see that."
Blaise, who had no interest in old textbooks, shrugged and handed it over, turning back to clean up the rest of the mess.
Sean stood, his heart hammering in his chest. He flipped through the old, worn pages, his eyes scanning the handwritten notes in the margins. And then he found them. Spells, jinxes, and curses, scrawled in a familiar, spidery script.
Levicorpus.
And another, its name underlined, the ink dark and angry.
Sectumsempra.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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