In a dimly-lit room shrouded in a quiet tension, a man with greasy black hair and a brooding, pale face sat motionless in a squishy armchair before a crackling fireplace. Shadows danced along the walls as firelight flickered, but his dark eyes remained fixed on the old clock on the mantle. He was waiting.
A sharp knock echoed from the door. Without a word, it opened, and in stepped a tall man with pale blonde hair, aristocratic features, and a walking stick topped with a serpent's head.
"Lucius," the dark-haired man said coolly, his voice like silk sliding over steel, "you better have a good reason for making me waste three precious days waiting for you."
"You don't have to act like this, Severus. You know this matter is very important… if he's really back," Lucius Malfoy replied, settling into the chair beside him.
Snape's black eyes narrowed, glinting like obsidian in the firelight. "Before we discuss that… don't you think you owe me an explanation?"
Lucius arched a brow in confusion.
Snape leaned forward, his voice colder now. "You used my spell on a Hogwarts student. Even after I explicitly warned you not to use it in front of others."
Lucius opened his mouth to protest, but quickly fell silent. He knew Snape was right. He had crossed a line. Despite the secrecy and power of the spell, he had revealed it during a petty duel, in front of witnesses. He didn't know why Snape kept it hidden, but he had violated that trust.
"You have nothing to say?" Snape's voice was low but sharp, slicing through the air. "Do you want to hand the board of governors a reason to expel you? Or give Dumbledore a reason to visit your manor? You know how he is when it comes to his students. Threaten one, and you invite his wrath."
Snape stood now, pacing slowly before the fire. "If Flitwick hadn't been there, that boy might have been seriously injured. You think Dumbledore wouldn't come for you? He'd tear through every protective enchantment in the Malfoy estate if he wanted to."
Lucius looked away, face shadowed with embarrassment and anger. The duel had already damaged his reputation. His son losing to a muggle-born first-year, in front of other pure-blood families no less, had made him the subject of whispers. Only the power of the Malfoy name kept those whispers from becoming laughter.
"I'll drop the matter," Snape said coldly, "but stay away from that child. Now—what ingredients did you provide that man?"
Lucius, relieved to move on, handed Snape a carefully folded list. As the Potions Master read through it, his frown deepened.
"These are random. Whoever this is—if they're even serious—doesn't trust you. Half of these are red herrings. He only needs a few, and the rest are just there to mislead."
Snape's tone grew darker as he muttered, "I don't think the Dark Lord is back. Someone's playing a dangerous game. And I'm honestly surprised you believed that letter without any proof."
Lucius's face stiffened. "We don't know he's not back. I'd rather act and be wrong than hesitate and lose everything. Can you identify what potion they're trying to make?"
Snape turned toward the door. "I'll see what I can do."
He reached for the handle when Lucius's voice stopped him.
"Severus. That boy…" He hesitated, then continued in a low, cautious tone, "Are you sure he's a muggle-born? He used the Levitation Charm with startling control—as if he's practiced for years, even ordinary old wizards can't control it in that way. And the Disarming Charm… it wasn't normal. In the middle of the dark smoke from my artifact, I saw it—clear as day. A red sphere, glowing with magical pressure. I've never seen anything like it. Usually it's a beam, or a flicker—but this? It was… condensed, powerful. Controlled. And he's just eleven. No wizard, not even a pure-blood, should be able to do that with such power at that age. People think he's from one of the hidden families, even I think so too."
Snape paused, his fingers tightening slightly on the doorknob. He said nothing and walked out without a backward glance.
Snape turned toward the door. "we'll know it soon enough."
He had barely taken a step when Lucius's voice, low and shaken, broke through the air.
"There's more, Severus."
Snape paused, sensing something unspoken in the weight of Lucius's tone. He turned slowly, his expression expectant.
Lucius took a breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something happened at the manor. Something I can't explain."
Snape said nothing, his dark eyes locked onto Lucius's pale ones.
"It was the day we dropped Draco to the station. Narcissa and I were returning home. As we walked up the path, she stopped mid-step. Her smile disappeared, and she clutched my arm like ice had filled her veins. I looked up to see what it was—"
Lucius's throat tightened as the memory flooded back.
"Half of the manor was gone, Severus. The entire right wing—erased from existence. Not a ruin. Not scorched or collapsed. Just… vanished. As if it had never been there to begin with. Like reality had folded and forgotten it."
Snape's expression grew tense. Even he couldn't imagine such a scene, let alone imagining how would he have reacted if he had seen that.
"My father was inside. I ran. I didn't think—I just ran. But when I reached the manor, I heard him. He walked out. Calm. Composed. Standing in the shadows, as if nothing had happened. But I knew that he was terrified from within. He told us to come inside."
"And what did he say?" Snape asked quietly.
Lucius exhaled slowly, his voice steadier now. "He led us into what remained and told us something I wish I could unhear. He said… this wasn't done by any magic we know. That it wasn't a curse or an attack—it was a warning. One sent by them."
Snape's brow furrowed. "Them?"
"The hidden families. The ones who never appear within the sights—powerful beyond comprehension, untouched by ministry records, unconcerned by bloodline politics. You know the stories. They don't meddle in our world, and when they do… it is never without purpose. He said that it was the warning sent to us because of the rumor spreading about them that we had done in secret."
Snape's lips tightened, but he said nothing.
"Father said only their kind could bend space like that. Only they could possess magic capable of erasing reality without a trace. He believes someone was sending a message—to us, or maybe to someone else entirely. But he warned me: if those families are moving again, we're on the edge of something none of us understand."
Lucius paused, the fear in his voice returning.
"And then… the next morning, the right wing was back. Whole. Perfect. As if it had never disappeared at all. No damage. No sign that anything had happened. Even the house-elves remembered nothing. Narcissa and I stood in the garden, looking up at it, wondering if we'd lost our minds."
A deep silence settled over the room. Snape's eyes were darker than before.
"No one else knows," Lucius said. "Not the ministry, not the others. They'd never believe me. But you—you believe me, right...?"
" Severus, help me find out that boy's origin. " Lucius continued with dark expression clouding his face.
Snape stared at him, expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and stepped out into the morning light. As the breeze caught the edges of his cloak, he stopped and glanced back toward Lucius.
"If it truly was them," Snape said quietly, "then you've touched a bee's hive. I'll look at the boy, meanwhile stay away from him."
Not waiting for the reply, Severus quickly apparated away from the meet up place. When he appeared again at a different location, he turned toward the distant towers of Hogwarts, glowing in the warm sunrise.
Unbeknownst to Lucius, Severus didn't even care about those hidden families. His entire focus was only on one person at this moment.
And in a voice so low it was nearly swallowed by the wind, he whispered: "Is He back?"
The dungeon was darker and colder than Adam expected. The low stone ceiling gave the impression that it might collapse at any moment, and the lack of windows made it feel like a tomb. The only source of light came from the green fire that burned under cauldrons and torches that sputtered along the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of herbs, burning wood, and something sharp—perhaps a chemical—something unpleasant and metallic.
Adam and Hermione stood near the entrance, their breath visible in the chilly air. Harry and Ron soon joined them, their eyes wide as they took in the eerie classroom.
"Looks like the place where evil potions are brewed," Ron muttered.
"Technically, that's not wrong," Adam replied, earning a chuckle from Harry.
The classroom door slammed shut behind them with a loud bang. The noise startled a few first-years.
Professor Snape swept into the room like a shadow. He didn't say a word at first, letting the silence settle. His long black robes billowed as he moved to the front of the class.
"You are here," he began slowly, "to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic."
His black eyes swept across the room.
"I don't expect many of you to truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes… the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…"
He paused. His eyes locked onto Harry.
"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic. The classroom was dead silent.
Adam was impressed. He wasn't a complete fan of Snape, but he had to admit—the man had presence.
Then Snape began roll call.
When he reached "Potter," he paused.
"Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity."
Adam rolled his eyes. Here we go again.
Snape walked slowly, predator-like, circling Harry.
"Let's see how much our famous student knows," he said. "Potter—what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry froze. "I—I don't know, sir."
Snape's lip curled. "Tut-tut. Fame clearly isn't everything."
Adam raised his hand. Snape looked at him, expression unreadable. Then he skipped over him and looked at the Slytherin student who had also raised his hand.
"Yes, Hawthorne?" he said slowly.
"It would create the Draught of Living Death, Professor."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "Correct. 10 points to Slytherin."
Snape sneered at Harry. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Snape completely ignored Adam and Hermione, who had also raised their hands. Adam found it hard to contain his laughter. He kind of liked this scene—Snape had a deeper meaning behind his questions. But now it seemed like Snape was really trying to make fun of Harry.
"I don't know, sir," Harry said, trying not to look at the Slytherins who were silently laughing at his misfortune.
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter? 10 points from Gryffindor." There was clear mockery in Snape's voice. Adam felt like Snape was mocking James Potter, not Harry, when he saw Snape's look. Hermione, sitting beside him, was dissatisfied as Snape didn't let her answer. The only thought in her mind right now was to shout, "I AM NOT A DUNDERHEAD, LET ME ANSWER."
Harry was angry, but he controlled himself and looked directly into Snape's cold black eyes, which only infuriated Snape further.
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape asked.
Hermione stood up and stretched her hand toward the dungeon ceiling. Adam quickly pulled her down, but he couldn't contain his laughter, letting out a small chuckle.
Harry noticed Hermione trying to answer, so he quietly said, "I don't know. I think Hermione knows the answers. Why don't you ask her?"
Some brave Gryffindors laughed, but Snape was not pleased with Harry's response. He glanced angrily at Hermione but then noticed Adam holding his hand over his mouth, trying to hide his smile. Snape's anger shifted to Adam.
"Taylor, what are you laughing at? Does this look funny to you?" Snape snapped.
Adam was stunned when Snape's anger turned toward him. He quickly stood up and put on an innocent, frightened look on his face before speaking. "No, Professor. I was not laughing. I was just happy."
"What were you happy about? Does your classmate not being able to answer make you happy?"
Snape's voice was even colder now, making everyone think he would kick Adam and Harry out of the classroom or possibly do worse.
"No, Professor. I was just happy that I knew all the answers to these questions," Adam replied, feeling it was unreasonable for Snape to be angry at him just for laughing. In this moment, there seemed to be some driving force nudging Adam to talk what was in his mind.
Snape didn't calm down, but before he could speak, Adam continued. "Your first question also reminded me of my mother's words, and that was the main reason why I smiled. One day, she was reading a book about flowers and told me about many of them and their meanings. The Asphodel you mentioned was one of my favorites; it's also a type of lily. My mother told me it represented 'Regret of someone's death,' or something like that. She also said it is dedicated to those that are not in this world anymore but we still love them. It's really a beautiful and interesting flower. So, I smiled thinking about this conversation I had with her. Sorry for smiling at the wrong time, Professor." Adam spoke quickly, in fear that Snape might interrupt him. After saying all this, Adam realized that he had talked a bit too much but he also felt that Snape was unreasonable so he didn't care much, at most some points would be taken from Gryffindor.
Except for Hermione, who stood beside him, only Snape seemed to understand what Adam had said.
'Now what will you do?' Adam thought to himself when he saw silent Snape, Adam felt pleased with himself. He had to act unreasonably since Snape was being unreasonable. He was sure Snape wouldn't say anything bad about his parents. And if Snape really kicked him out, Adam could just come back later and apologize innocently.
Adam waited for Snape's reaction. He wanted to see if Snape would get angrier or sadder. But Snape disappointed him—he showed no expression. Snape stood there silently, looking at Adam with his usual cold black eyes. Everyone in Slytherin seemed to be waiting for Snape to throw Adam out of class or deduct house points, but nothing happened.
Snape had lost himself in memories. He couldn't help but recall the moment he saw Lily's cold body lying on the floor. A flash of sadness appeared in his emotionless eyes but quickly disappeared, and he turned around.
"Taylor, answer all the questions. Potter, learn from your classmates. Fame isn't everything."
This time, Snape's tone was a bit softer, though still cold. Adam immediately felt bad for mentioning these things to Snape. He guessed Snape was recalling his days with Lily. Adam answered the questions clearly before apologizing again. This time, his apology was not for laughing but for his words that seemed to have made Snape sad.
"A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, used as a cure for most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, also known as aconite. Sorry, Professor."
Snape didn't respond to Adam's apology and turned to look at the class before returning to his usual cold tone. "Why aren't you all copying this down?"
Everyone quickly took out their parchments and quills to take notes. After this incident, Snape didn't speak much. He paired everyone up and let them brew a simple potion to cure boils. He walked around, watching everyone weigh and crush their ingredients. He criticized almost everyone except Malfoy. Adam and Hermione, working together, were ignored by Snape.
Adam felt bad about Snape's situation, while Hermione was focused on their potion. They didn't notice Neville, who made some mistakes at the next table, causing his and Seamus's cauldron to melt. Their potion seeped onto the stone floor. Adam and Hermione stood on their stools as boils began to appear all over Neville's body from the spilled potion.
Snape scolded them before instructing Harry and Ron to take Neville and Seamus to the hospital wing. Hermione wanted to go with Adam, but didn't want to ruin their potion, so she stayed behind.
At the end of the class, Snape inspected everyone's potion. By now, he had returned to his usual self. He even praised Adam and Hermione's potion—well, if you could call it praise.
"At least not everyone in this class is a dunderhead. This potion is acceptable, but it could still be improved," Snape said as he looked at the color and smelled their potion. It was far better than the others because of the tips Snape had given Adam, but to Snape, it was just "acceptable." Even with his remarks, Adam felt happy, knowing Snape had probably forgiven him for his words.
After the class ended, Hermione complained about Snape's remarks as he left the classroom.
"How can he say that it was just acceptable? Our potion was far better than the others. It even had the same color as in the book."
Adam laughed and tried to calm her down. "Hermione, what he said is true. Our potion might be the best in the class, but for a potion master like him, it might just be acceptable quality. We should just improve instead of getting angry. What he says is for our own good. You saw, he didn't even pay attention to the other potions."
"But…" Hermione wanted to say something but Adam interrupted her.
"Let's think about this later, okay? We don't want to be late for the next class, do we?"
Adam walked toward the door, and Hermione quickly followed him. Just as they left the classroom, they saw a blonde Slytherin girl standing outside alone. They didn't know what she was doing there, so they walked past her.
After a few steps, Adam heard someone call his name.
"Taylor!"
Adam turned and saw Daphne, now understanding that she had been waiting for him. Adam tried to think of a way to get to know more about the tria these days, but there wasn't much he could do. So he had been waiting for her to contact him but hadn't expected her to be waiting here in front of Hermione and other classmates. Discussing the trial in this place wasn't ideal.
Adam looked at Hermione and told her to wait for him ahead before walking back to Daphne.
"Can we talk about this when no one's around? Or find a place where we can talk privately?" Adam whispered when he reached her.
Daphne looked angry. She handed him a piece of paper before walking away. Adam was puzzled by her reaction.
'Did I say something wrong?' Adam thought, opening the letter.
He read the letter as he walked toward Hermione, who kept looking at him from the corner.
"Meet me at the Astronomy Tower on Sunday, at 11 PM.
-Daphne Greengrass"
Adam tucked the letter inside his robes and walked back to Hermione, complaining in his mind, 'Did she really have to choose my birthday for this meeting? And couldn't she have just said it directly if it was this short of a message?'
The 8th of September was Adam's birthday. It wasn't like he was going to celebrate it, but he had hoped to relax and sleep all day. He hadn't even told Hermione about his birthday, mainly because she hadn't asked and secondly because he didn't want to celebrate it that much, also felt little bit embarrassed to tell her about his birthday by himself without being asked about it.
Hermione was curious as she saw Daphne hand over a letter to Adam, so she asked, "What did she write in it? It was a letter, right?"
Adam's eyes immediately lit up at the question. He sighed deeply before replying, "It's really hard being a smart and good-looking boy."
He paused for a few seconds, then continued, "It's a love letter. She wants me to become her boyfriend."
Hermione was stunned when she heard this. At first, she wanted to call him a narcissist for praising himself like that, but then the second part of his answer hit her. She didn't know why, but it felt like her heart had stopped for a second.
Though Hermione often acted like a little girl in front of Adam and appeared quite emotional at times, her mindset had actually matured quite a bit since the duel and wand event. Her mother had once spoken to her about boyfriend-girlfriend relationships between boys and girls after hearing how her little daughter had wanted to meet a boy every day during a vacation. Hermione had been just about twelve years old at the time—it was quite early—but her mother had still decided to explain, always having seen her as a smart and mature kid.
Now, as Hermione recalled her mother's words, she couldn't help but blurt out, "No!!…"
But when she realized she had shouted in the corridor, she quickly looked down at the floor in embarrassment and continued in a much lower voice, "She's a Slytherin…"
Hermione was nervous—not because she had romantic feelings for Adam, but because of what her mother had told her. In her mind, boyfriend-girlfriend relationships meant going on dates and spending all their time together. That thought scared her. She was afraid she might lose her best friend if he became that Slytherin girl's boyfriend. Adam was the only best friend she had, and she didn't want to lose him like this.
Adam was surprised by her sudden shout, but he could guess what she was thinking. He smiled at her and began walking toward their next class. With a calm voice, he said,
"Hermione, you can't say something like that. If you discriminate against her just because of her house, then aren't you doing the same thing those pure-blood families do when they discriminate against us based on our blood status? You can't hate Slytherin House just because it produced some bad wizards. Even Gryffindor had a traitor once, but just because Slytherin's villain was more famous, Gryffindor's reputation was saved and no one knew about him. What I mean is that every tree has a bad apple. You must not treat Slytherins as if they're evil or some kind of monsters. They're just Hogwarts students like us. And if you keep treating them like monsters, then one day, they will become monsters. Remember this—'If you repeat a lie often enough, it will one day become the truth.'"
Adam finished his small speech and continued walking to class. Hermione went quiet, thinking deeply about the things he had just said. She trusted Adam, so she trusted his words. If he said Gryffindor had a traitor, then there had to have been one. Adam didn't tell her who it was, and she didn't ask. She had grown used to the way Adam often spoke cryptically, leaving out details. At first, she used to question him about it, but he never gave her direct answers. Eventually, she discovered a different kind of pleasure—searching for those answers on her own and proudly presenting them to him when she found them.
Hermione remained lost in thought about his words for the rest of the day, which meant Adam enjoyed a rather peaceful time. But that peace didn't last. It came to an abrupt end with a letter he received from Garrick Ollivander- one that held shocking information about his and Hermione's wands.