London. Diagon Alley.
A slender wooden house stood wedged between a cauldron shop and an herb store. At first glance, the house didn't seem wider than its own oak door.
At that moment, a long-haired man in a black robe walked toward the inconspicuous little house with an indifferent air. He pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside, immediately greeted by the strong fragrance of herbs.
The door shut behind him with a deep thud.
A line of exquisite inscription was carved into a copper plate, aged and weathered by time:
"Extraordinary Potioneers' Association."
— —
"Oh! Severus Snape! A rare guest, indeed. Wasn't the last time you came seven years ago?"
As soon as he entered, a wizard greeted him warmly.
He was a middle-aged man, slender, with neatly styled short hair touched with gray. His demeanor was dignified, and his every move reflected composure and professionalism.
With a casual flick of his wand, he floated a glass of pine nut wine over to his guest.
"Thank you, Blackwood, but you know I don't drink this sort of thing."
Snape brushed the glass aside and placed it on a nearby platform. His gaze swept across the room.
The interior was far larger than the modest exterior suggested.
This was the reception hall of the Extraordinary Potioneers' Association.
At first glance, it looked as vast as the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, blue flames flickering within it and casting an ethereal glow over the entire hall.
The walls were lined with specimens of various magical herbs. Near the entrance stood an unattended bar, stocked with all sorts of drinks for guests to help themselves.
It was nearing noon.
The hall was already bustling.
People formed small groups, engaged in lively conversations.
At the far end of the hall, a spiral staircase led to the second floor—Snape's destination for today.
"So, Professor Snape, what brings you here today?"
The wizard speaking was Arthur Blackwood, a senior receptionist and member of the Extraordinary Potioneers' Association.
He had studied at Hogwarts, specializing in Potions and Defensive Magic, and had been Snape's senior in Slytherin House. Now, he looked at him with genuine curiosity.
"The youngest Potions professor at Hogwarts," Blackwood continued, "we've invited you three times to these exchanges, and you declined each time. What has finally convinced you to grace us with your presence today?"
Indeed, though not yet considered a senior in the field, Snape, at just thirty-one years old, held significant influence due to his position as Potions professor at Hogwarts.
Given that most young witches and wizards in Britain were educated at Hogwarts, Snape was in a position to influence the next generation of magical talent.
Naturally, many factions wanted to win his favor.
However, Snape was notoriously difficult to approach.
He generally only spoke with Slytherins. Gryffindors received no acknowledgment, and he loathed crowded gatherings such as these, which were often filled with—what he considered—buffoons.
Snape's expression didn't change as he responded coldly, "Today is the Transfiguration Potion special. I have some progress to report."
Blackwood raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Oh? That's interesting. Karkaroff from Durmstrang is here today too, boasting about some new Transfiguration Potion innovation. Hmph. Arrogant as ever."
As he spoke, Blackwood tilted his head, indicating a group nearby.
Sure enough, a tall, thin man stood at the center—short white hair, a curled goatee, laughing boisterously as a crowd surrounded him.
Snape frowned and quickly averted his gaze.
He had no desire to interact with his former colleague.
"What they've come up with has nothing to do with me," he muttered.
Blackwood chuckled and gestured politely. "Please, have a seat. The opening ceremony will begin shortly."
Snape took a seat on a soft leather sofa away from the crowd.
A cup of hot tea waited on the small table beside him.
Blackwood remained standing.
"So, how long do you plan to stay today? Rumor has it, the Great One is attending the ceremony."
Snape took a sip of the tea. Not bad. Chamomile.
"No matter who shows up, I'm just here to submit an improvement plan. I won't be staying long."
"Oh dear, then you might miss meeting the founder of our association…"
Blackwood suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
Snape looked up.
Blackwood had turned pale, frozen in place. Then, he bowed his head slightly.
"Sir Granger, hello."
Snape immediately turned around.
Standing by his sofa was a slender elderly man in an emerald green robe. His hair was mostly gone, but his eyes sparkled kindly.
It was him.
Hector Dagworth-Granger.
The founder of the Extraordinary Potioneers' Association.
The architect of 20th-century potion research.
Inventor of more than eighty new potions.
Creator of a fund that sponsored thousands of young potion makers.
Co-author of A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
A legend.
Ten thousand Firebolts roared through Snape's mind.
He made to rise, but Granger gently pressed a hand on his shoulder, smiling.
With a wave of his hand, a sofa identical to Snape's appeared opposite. Granger sat down, and with a nod, Blackwood excused himself and fled, leaving only Snape and Granger behind.
Strangely, no one else seemed to notice that the Hector Granger had just appeared.
Somewhat anxious, Snape spoke first.
"Um… Sir Granger, I mean no offense, but I must return to school this afternoon for lessons, so…"
Granger chuckled.
"No need to worry about that, Severus. But…" he added playfully, "does Hogwarts still schedule classes on Friday afternoons?"
Snape quickly explained, "No, not for everyone. But one of my students is falling behind and needs extra tutoring to keep up with the fifth-years."
(Deviro: Eh? My grades are that bad?)
Despite Snape's usual aloof demeanor, he was visibly respectful toward Granger.
After all, this great man had once done him a tremendous favor.
Granger waved it off. "Alright, alright. Let's move on. Let's talk about your new potion plan."
Snape immediately grew serious.
He took a file folder from his enchanted bag and handed it to Granger.
"Sir, this is a proposal for optimizing the Polyjuice Potion recipe. It reduces ingredient rarity while providing a general method to improve Transfiguration potions. Please review it."
Granger's eyes lit up.
He accepted the file and began reading.
Snape waited in silence.
Granger read at an astonishing pace, finishing the entire file in under fifteen minutes.
Snape was stunned. Was this man really pushing a hundred?
"A genius idea, Severus!" Granger exclaimed.
His face flushed with youthful excitement.
"This could redefine Transfiguration potion history! Severus, your name will be written in the books!"
Snape felt as if he were floating, but quickly grounded himself.
"This was not my discovery, sir. It was proposed by one of my students. I refined and optimized it, but the core direction was based on his work."
Granger blinked in surprise.
"A Hogwarts student?" he repeated.
"Yes, sir."
Granger leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a while.
Then he murmured, "These young people… are terrifying."
He sat up, his eyes sharp now.
"This student—he must have an extraordinary instinct for potions. Perhaps even more to offer?"
Snape nodded. "Yes. Though inexperienced, the value of his original concept is undeniable. I developed this version from his notes."
Granger understood. Youth often came with inexperience, but this student had potential.
A very strong potential.
The idea of poaching him had already taken root in Granger's mind.
"Severus, bring this student to your presentation next week. I want to see this potion genius for myself."
Snape hesitated briefly but then nodded.
"Excellent! Now, shall we go to the second floor to discuss more details?"
Snape allowed himself a small smile.
"With pleasure."
— —
After a detailed discussion, Snape returned to Hogwarts.
Which explained why he had arrived slightly late to his office.
Now he sat behind his desk, holding the redrawn brewing process for the improved Polyjuice Potion.
He looked at the author of the diagram in disbelief.
The very student he'd just said lacked experience:
Deviro Alexander.
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