Jacob's laughter broke off into a fit of coughing.
Queenie quickly dug through her bag, found a small vial of potion, and helped him drink it.
"Easy now. Don't get too worked up."
She rubbed his back gently while Rock stared at Jacob, his silver-gray eyes locked on the man's dim, fading life lines.
They looked just like Nicolas Flamel's had near the end.
The cheerful atmosphere in the living room died instantly. Rock finally understood.
There had never been some urgent matter keeping Queenie and Jacob from visiting. Jacob's health had simply gotten too bad.
"Rock, go eat something. There's food in the kitchen," Tina said quietly.
Rock opened his mouth to argue, but Newt caught his eye and gave him a small, deliberate wink.
"…Okay, Grandma." Rock nodded and stood up, heading toward the kitchen. His ears stayed tuned to the conversation behind him.
He caught fragments — "no," "I've already lived this long" — and the pieces clicked into place the moment he stepped into the kitchen.
It wasn't that they couldn't come. It was that Jacob was running out of time.
Rock looked down at the cake Jacob had brought, his decision already made. He turned and ran upstairs to his room.
In the living room, Tina heard the footsteps and called after him. "Rock, aren't you going to eat?"
"I'll come back down later!"
Rock shut his bedroom door and went straight to his desk. He grabbed a quill, then paused.
Writing it outright in a letter wasn't safe.
He had it.
Rock picked up a strand of unicorn hair, dipped it in a bit of potion, and carefully wrote a single word. Then he used the quill to add an ordinary message on top of it.
Once the owl had flown off, Rock let out a long breath.
He hoped Professor Snape would be willing to come.
Spinner's End.
Snape was lounging in his rocking chair when his brow suddenly furrowed. He sat up sharply and looked toward the door.
A silver phoenix passed straight through the wall. Dumbledore's calm voice followed.
"Severus. You might want to read this letter."
The phoenix burst into sparks. A sealed letter drifted down into Snape's hand.
He opened it. Inside were only a few short lines from Rock. Ignoring the visible words, Snape pressed his wand to the bottom of the page and tapped it. His eyebrow rose when nothing happened.
He tried again, this time tracing several runes in the air with his wand.
Hidden text slowly revealed itself across the parchment.
Snape read in silence. His mouth tightened into a thin line as something raw and complicated flickered across his face.
After a long moment, he tossed the letter into the nearby brazier. Flames roared up and consumed it completely.
That afternoon, Rock kept glancing at the clock while he sat with the adults.
He should have received it by now.
Sending the letter through Hogwarts and having Dumbledore deliver it had cost him one of the favors the headmaster had promised him at the end of first year. But if Snape was unlikely to agree on his own, having Dumbledore involved might make things easier.
Newt suddenly looked up, frowning toward the front door.
"What is it?" Tina asked.
"Someone's here," Newt said quietly, rising from his chair.
Rock followed him at once.
"Little Rock… did you do this?" Newt asked under his breath as he opened the door.
"Yeah. It would've taken me a while on my own. But if it's Professor Snape… it should be faster."
Newt didn't comment. He simply reached over and gave Rock's head a gentle pat.
Outside the manor, a tall, black-robed figure stood motionless. Snape's dark eyes were fixed on the protective wards surrounding the property, but he made no move to break them.
The moment the wards dropped, Rock and Newt stepped outside.
"Hello, Professor," Rock said quickly.
Snape didn't acknowledge him. Instead, he gave Newt a small nod. "Mr. Scamander. I need you to act as a witness."
Newt blinked, then smiled faintly. "Severus, there's really no need—"
"No. It is necessary," Snape said flatly.
Newt hesitated, then gave Rock a light push forward. "Then I suppose we'd better get on with it."
Rock stepped in front of Snape, confused.
"You invited me here," Snape began, his voice low and cold, "to brew the most dangerous potion in the magical world. Is this blind confidence from your experiences… or is there a reckless, self-destructive streak of Gryffindor stupidity buried somewhere in that Ravenclaw brain of yours?"
Rock's mouth went dry. It took him a moment to answer. "No, Professor."
"I trust you."
Even though Snape had always been sharp-tongued, after a full year of private lessons, Rock knew the man was someone he could trust. Otherwise he never would have asked him about the perception potion in the first place.
Snape stared at him in silence for a long time. His black eyes bored straight into Rock's. This time, Rock didn't look away.
Legilimency.
Snape had used it the moment Rock spoke.
Newt said nothing. He even raised a hand to stop Tina and the others from coming outside.
Finally, Snape spoke again. "I want you to make an Unbreakable Vow with me."
Rock's eyes widened. "That's not necessary, Professor. I already told you—I trust you."
"No," Snape said, his gaze unreadable. "That is exactly why it is necessary. With Mr. Scamander as witness."
Rock felt a hand on his shoulder. Newt was nodding at him. "Rock. Listen to the professor."
Rock pressed his lips together. He really didn't want Snape to have to do this.
"Extend your hand," Snape said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Or I won't agree to your request."
Rock took a deep breath and met Snape's eyes. "Yes, Professor."
He slowly held out his hand. Snape grasped it at once. His skin was ice-cold.
Snape raised his wand. A shimmering barrier formed around the three of them, ensuring no one outside could hear what was said.
"I, Severus Snape," he began, voice low and steady, "do hereby swear…"
The rest of the vow made Rock's eyes go wide. Snape's quiet prompt cut through his shock.
"Hurry."
Rock stayed silent for a long moment. Then he slowly raised his own wand and pointed it at himself. He couldn't bring himself to make a vow that only restricted Snape.
Snape started to speak, but Rock was already reciting the words.
A sharp, burning pain lanced through both of them. Thin threads of fire, fine as hair, extended from their wands and wove beneath their skin like molten gold. They traced complex, ancient patterns before finally forming a delicate chain that locked their joined hands together in an unbreakable bond.