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It was a relatively peaceful breakfast for the second day of term. Dumbledore was away on ministry business, so Severus did not even have to deal with the incessant small talk that accompanied the Headmaster's presence.

The morning rush of owls against the subdued chatter of sleepy students was calming. Then –

There was a sudden hush.

Conditioned by a decade of teaching experience, Severus immediately looked up from his plate. His eyes caught the culprit. For once, it wasn't a student.  

He sighed, tracking the bright red envelope carried by an oversized raven as it made its way across the hall. At least it wasn't one of his Slytherins this year.

Every few years, there would be an entitled parent absolutely enraged that their spawn didn't get into the house they wanted. 

He had drawn a secret sigh of relief when Longbottom had placed in Gryffindor the previous night, prematurely thinking that this year would have no start-of-term howlers. That was what he got for being so optimistic. 

The howler was dropped in front of Arcturus Rigel Black, who was quietly munching on a piece of toast at the Hufflepuff table.

Severus felt his mouth fall open. Surely Sirius Black wouldn't. Even Severus remembered the legendary howler that had arrived the day after Sirius Black had been sorted to Gryffindor. He remembered watching the frozen, almost tearful expression on the arrogant boy's face with some measure of glee. He knew it was a source of some trauma for the older Black. It would be the height of hypocrisy to send a howler to his own notoriously beloved son for being sorted into Hufflepuff.

The howler began its diatribe, echoing throughout the now dead-silent hall — and another wave of shock rippled through Severus. That was not Sirius Black.

Sure, it had been a few years since he last heard his voice but Severus was certain it was not Lord Black.

For one thing, the man who sent the howler was not yelling. He was speaking with a raised voice, yes, but it was calm – almost amused. 

For another, he was speaking in fast-paced French. Not the clipped, upper-class classical Parisian French taught to wizarding nobility. This was Meridional French, with a faint lilt indicating the speaker was perhaps masking another dialect. 

Severus concentrated, but he could only understand bits and pieces – the man was speaking too fast. After catching several refernces to Durmstrang and someone named Victoria, he mentally noted that he would need a pensieve to properly translate the speech.

Black was clearly not having the same issue. He had placed two pieces of bacon on top of the envelope, folded his hands, tilted his head, and seemed to be listening intently to the howler. 

When the howler finally burst into flames – toasting the two pieces of bacon – Severus fought the urge to put his head into his hands. Why did this have to happen on his watch?

In the dead silence, Black chuckled, unfolded his hands and scratched the raven's head. His voice rang out in the hall as he spoke.

"Bring her when you come, sir. Or you will regret it."

The raven opened its beak – and spoke in an eerie imitation of Black. 

"Bring her when you come sir. Or you will regret it!"  

"Good girl." He fed the raven a piece of toasted bacon and watched it fly off, a fond smile on his face. After a moment, he looked around, finding nearly everyone in the Great Hall staring at him. He flashed a rakish grin, which looked rather creepy on an eleven year old.

"Do I have something on my face?"

The tension broke. A few students laughed, and the morning conversations started up again.

Severus let his eyes linger on Black. He watched the boy reassure his housemates who seemed to be worrying for him. After all, howlers were terrifying for children at that age. 

Just a prank, Black's lips mouthed. Then, his eyes snapped to stare directly back at Severus. Before he could do anything, Black winked at him. 

Greetings from Durmstrang, dearest apprentice! I have been waiting for you here in Durmstrang. How long has it been? I wouldn't know. You see, I was dead. Funny, how that works out. I woke up a month ago and it felt like no time had passed since I died. Imagine my surprise that the clock had turned back to before my death! I thought I would reunite with my fallen brethren, but instead I must languish here in Durmstrang, staring at Karkaroff's grotesque countenance. Yes, Karkaroff is still alive. He smells of fear these days. I can't imagine why, I've been positively angelic to him. Why, I even took breakfast with him this morning and smiled at him and passed the salt. Perhaps this new scary side of me has come about as a side effect of dying. I look forward to your no doubt long-winded and useless explanations.

I know you're behind this, Victoria. I will give you a grace period of one month to present yourself to me before I come for you. If I do not recieve a response to this message, I will hunt you down.

That was a threat, just so we are clear. Do not test me, Victoria Light.

Severus pulled his head out of the pensieve. It had taken the better part of two hours to transcribe and translate the entire speech. The message seemed far too ominous to be a prank. 

Why would one of Black's friends roleplay a frenchman from Durmstrang? He took note of the name Victoria Light, then stored it in the back of his mind. Dumbledore would have told him if he needed to be worried.

Severus was busy with his start of term preparations, and tired from hours of translation. He also, quite frankly, did not care about the welfare of Sirius Black's son. 

Perhaps that was why it completely slipped his mind that Dumbledore had not been present at breakfast that morning, and thus did not know about the howler.

"Clear your desks," Severus said coolly. 

He moved to stand at the blackboard and gazed down his nose at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years. His lip curled when he saw Arcturus Black sitting with his back straight, hands folded before him. His desk was already clear. His face looked faintly amused, although there was also a sense of quiet anticipation from the boy. 

Severus forced his eyes to roam away from him. He was likely thinking of everything his father had taught him about Severus. Probably laughing at him internally too, the arrogant child. 

He robotically began the roll call. Thankfully, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs tended to have parents who had never antagonised him in school. He barely withheld the grimace as he called out for Arcturus Rigel Black. He was unsurprised to see the glint in the boy's eyes when he raised his hand. No doubt, he thought he could humiliate Severus in his class. Just like his father. 

Severus moodily paced the length of the classroom, feeling the eyes of every student following him. Good. 

"Many of you have already heard about this class, and for those of you who haven't," Severus let his lip curl, "You will. However, for the sake of those of you to whom comprehension does not often follow explanation – and I don't doubt this will include a percentage of you large enough to give me new dread for the future of the magical race – I," here he paused directly in front of Black and fixed him with a cold glare, "am Professor Severus Snape, the Potions Master."

Black's smiled, a small curve of his mouth, and he didn't look away from Severus. The sense of anticipation was even stronger, and below his cool smile Severus thought he could detect excitement. Strange. He couldn't be excited for the lesson. Was the brat already planning something?

He was the first to break the staring contest, moving away to sweep past another desk. 

"Potions is a demanding art," he told the students, "One which always takes more than it gives."

He paused dramatically. If Severus was being completely honest with himself, he took some measure of glee in giving his start of term speeches to the first years. Perhaps it was some deeply buried flair for the dramatic that was unleashed like clockwork every year. 

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." 

By now, Severus was back at the front of the room. He let the tension linger, linger, linger and –

"Black!" Severus barked at the arrogant boy, who still had a faint smile on his face. 

"Yes, professor?" The boy didn't even flinch at being called on unexpectedly. In fact, he seemed even more anticipatory than before and his excitement was palpable. 

"What would I get if I mixed powdered root of asphodel into an infusion of wormwood?"

The boy blinked. Typical. Sure, the potion may not be anywhere on the first year syllabus, but he needed to learn a lesson in humility. To know better than to take Potions lightly, to take Severus lightly. He needed someone to take him down a peg, to–

The boy smiled happily.

"The Draught of Living Death, sir."

He was not supposed to know that. It was not mentioned in any first year textbooks. It must have been a fluke. Severus took a breath. No matter. 

"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, Mr. Black?" he pressed. Perhaps a trick question would–

The boy's smile grew amused, slightly patronising. 

"They are the same plant, professor. Also known as aconite, in case you didn’t know."

His tone was almost... teasing? The little brat was mocking him in his own classroom. Somehow, managing to use his rudimentary Potions knowledge to mock him. Just like his father. Severus swallowed down the bubble of rage in his chest and moved on to his next target. 

"Abbot!" The girl jumped and went pale. A small voice inside him said yes, that's how students should react to him. He smirked.

"What is peeled shrivelfig most commonly used in?" He took a single step toward the girl's table and she trembled

"I-I don't know sir," she stammered, on the verge of tears. Hufflepuffs, he thought derisively, sweeping away to choose a Ravenclaw instead.

"Patil," he turned to the girl who'd had a twin sorted to Gryffindor, "When would you ingest the leaves of the aconite plant?"

The girl swallowed. Her eyes darted from her desk to Severus and back, before she responded, "Um, never? Because it's poisonous, isn't it?"

"I wonder what you will do, Miss Patil, when your blood pressure is dangerously high, but you refuse to take the heart sedative because there is aconite in it," he bit out, perhaps a little too viciously, considering he didn't hate this student yet. Nonetheless, she didn't look sufficiently cowed.

"Or when you can't take a sweat inducer for your fever for the same reason." He added, savouring the way she ducked her head in shame. He turned and was about to call upon the trembling Susan Bones, but he was interrupted.

"Aconite leaves are poisonous, though," the voice was crisp and sharp in the silent classroom. Severus whirled around. Of course. The arrogant Black Junior. He did not seem to notice all the eyes swivelling towards him, choosing to continue his little spiel.

"Patil is quite right to be wary of them since we should never eat the leaves by themselves. The only time we can ingest them are in potions which have strong neutralizing agents." He paused thoughtfully.

"While it is academically true in this context that she shouldn't have said 'never', as a layperson who is presumably never entering the field of Potioneering, the more practical real-life knowledge for her and most of us here is that aconite must never be ingested."

The arrogant child dared to smile idly up at him.

"Just wished to add on to your point, Professor Snape, since I thought it would be prudent for us to know and you perhaps forgot to mention it."

Severus felt cold rage from years of bullying, from years of dealing with Sirius Black, wash over his body. 

"Detention, Mr Black, for speaking out of turn," he said softly. He may well have shouted, the way his words carried in the pin-drop silence. 

He relished the way that smug, patronising smile dropped off the boys face, replaced with a look of faint confusion. Black furrowed his brow.

"With all due respect, sir, I simply wished to add on to our learning experience as a fellow potioneer and scholar–"

"Detention for the rest of the month, Black. See me after class." 

Finally, he caught the hint and shut up. He didn't interject for any of the other students' stammered responses. After the class was over he calmly approached Severus and accepted the slip of parchment listing the dates and times of his detentions without complaint. He even smiled and bowed politely before leaving the room.

Severus breathed a sigh of exasperation. Where in the world had that brat learned his potions? 

It felt somehow that the universe was playing an especially cruel joke on him.

Severus rubbed at his aching temples. It had been a long day. Much as he had enjoyed giving Black detention in class, carrying out the detentions was proving to be a challenge. 

He'd directed Black to a stack of dirty cauldrons and sat behind his desk grading papers while keeping an eye on the brat. 

Of course, the little demon took it as an excuse to start critiquing the quality of his cauldrons. Severus did not know what a 'non-stick cauldron' was and frankly, he didn't care.

"But professor," the brat had said, eyes sparkling, "They'll be invented only about five years from now! You should invest in the inventors now so you'll have early access to their quality cauldrons before they hit the shelves. They're going to change potioneering forever, truly!"

That was another thing. The brat kept making references to events that 'will happen' or items that 'will be invented'. Severus was not sure the child was fully sane. 

That night, he simply dismissed the boy for the evening instead of responding, because he truly did not know how to handle Sirius Black's mentally imbalanced demon spawn. He silently cursed himself for giving the boy detentions for the entire month. He should have ignored him, pretended he didn't exist, instead of giving himself more work supervising such an incorrigible child.

"You know," Black started conversationally, "You should probably quit teaching. Do potioneering full time."

The silence following his statement was cold, broken only by the faint schrrk schrrk of a cauldron getting scrubbed. 

It was halfway through the third week of his detentions, and the boy had been suspiciously quiet in all his potions classes, silently observing the lessons before brewing flawless potions during practicals. He'd even learned to be silent during detentions in the past week – unfortunately, he'd apparently decided to cease his good behaviour today.

"You're probably wondering why I said that, right? It's because you're amazing at Potions, but pretty terrible at being a Slytherin, considering."

Severus felt an eye twitch. The nerve of this...this brat. So much like his father – no, even Sirius Black had never implied Severus wasn't good at being Slytherin. 

"Considering what exactly, Mr Black?" Severus's tone was forbidding, dangerous. Silky smooth and soft. Black was either extremely oblivious or chose to ignore the warning in his tone.

The boy crossed his legs and leaned back, seemingly pondering his next words even as his hands mechanically continued scrubbing the cauldrons.

"Well. You have a school full of children under your tutelage. A house full of children for whom you are acting in loco parentis. What exactly is your goal with these students? Do you want them to trust you? To fear you? A cunning, resourceful Slytherin would not spend their first meeting with a group of potential allies antagonising them without giving them good reason to fear you. Without fear, antagonising others simply creates antagonists."

He picked up a new cauldron and started scraping the debris stuck on the bottom of it, even as he continued speaking.

"It's even worse that we are children. Look, professor, children trust much easier than adults. Children are more impressionable. They can be groomed into whatever you want, if you know when to use the carrot and when to use the stick. They also feel stronger emotions, so it's also frighteningly easy to make a child hate you – " 

With a slight thump, he put aside the cauldron. Instead of picking up the next one, he turned to Severus with a disapproving look. Severus's mouth felt like it was sewn shut at the glare.

"I did a bit a investigating on your behalf, you see. Among the older non-slytherin students. Ninety-four percent feel nothing but contempt for you, with the rest settling for neutral feelings. None of them fear you, not the proper kind of fear that would make them useful to you. So you failed at ruling through fear too. Disappointing."

He tapped the clean cauldron, ignoring Severus's dangerous expression.

"Every non-slytherin student taking potions after fifth year are doing so despite you, not because of you. Potion NEWTs are required for careers in Healing, Aurors, most Mastery Programs, even many foreign employers look for a basic potions proficiency – it looks good on a resume. I didn't find anyone who had a sincere love for potions. Not one student. In fact, the only students who have positive feelings for you already had positive feelings for you before coming to Hogwarts."

Sighing, he shook his head.

"Honestly? It's embarrassing is what it is. Shouldn't the head of house display the positive traits of their house? Flitwick is whip smart and has endless wisdom to impart, Sprout is hardworking and reaches out even to students outside her house, McGonagall is honorable and takes pride in her students. Any one of them could easily build a formidable army out of their former students. You?"

Black jabbed an accusing finger in his direction.

"You enter a class full of students and leave a room full of enemies. Then you continue antagonising them every time you interact with them! What was that earlier today, with Macimillian? You don't have to publically humiliate a child to teach them the importance of cauldron safety. And if you absolutely had to, you should have gone further! Make a proper example of him! I must say, I expected better of you! If you mean to rule through fear, you need to be more consistent. Either go all out on humiliation, or refrain from it! Don't half-ass it!"

He slammed his hands on Severus's desk for emphasis. Severus jumped. He hadn't noticed the boy approaching his desk.

"The only reason I waited until now to reprimand you is because I have a deep respect for your potioneering work. It wouldn't do to scold you in front of your students – but honestly!"

He threw his hands in the air in frustration.

"Not a trace of cunning, no resourcefulness whatsoever! You had a class full of impressionable children you could groom to be whatever you want – we are resources, Snape, don't look at me like that – and where is your ambition? Are you scared of your students surpassing you? Is that it? Is that why you demotivate them from Potioneering in your very first lesson, so they'd never surpass you?"

The cold rage was so potent that he was trembling with the effort of not lunging across the desk to throttle the boy. The only reason he had not spoken was because he couldn't trust himself not to unleash a series of profanities unfit for a child's ears.  

"You want my advice? Pick a lane. I'm not telling you to be nice, I'm telling you be smart. If you are unable to turn your students into allies, friends or minions, you should quit teaching and play to your strengths. Do potioneering full time – or start improving your fear tactics! As it is now, you're only giving Slytherins a bad name."

Severus finally found his voice.

"Detention for the rest of the semester, Mr. Black," he whispered. "Get out of my sight."

For a moment, Black eyed him silently. He seemed to be contemplating something. Then, that faint smile made its appearance. He bowed, polite yet mocking. 

"Perhaps it's too early to give you such advice. My apologies. I shall see you in our next detention." 

And then, he was gone. 

Severus collapsed onto his desk, the ungraded assignments on his desk laughing at him. Why had he done that? He had just doomed himself to an entire semester with the demon child. An entire semester.

The migraine, when it finally hit, was not wholly unexpected.

It was the third Friday of September. To Severus's chagrin, he could not shut himself up in his lab after he completed his lessons for the day. No, it was time for the dreaded Heads of Houses meeting to assess the progress of the term with Dumbledore.

At the very least, Severus took some pleasure in bantering with his friends colleagues. 

"How many of my cubs have you traumatized this month, Severus?" Minerva looked both resigned and amused.

"No more than deserved it, Minerva," Severus smirked, "As always."

"Now, Severus," Albus said warmly, "We know how much you value a controlled work-environment—"

"Potions is an exceedingly dangerous and in the presence of adolescents unpredictable art."

"—and none of us would ever dream of telling you how to run your classroom—"

"I highly doubt that any of you soft-hearted molly-coddlers would have the stomach to prevent the number of near-maimings I deal with every day."

"—but was it really necessary to tell your class of third-year Ravenclaws that you would personally make sure they failed their OWLs in two years if they didn't produce a satisfactory Weakening Solution by the end of the period?" Albus gazed mildly at the ceiling, "I'm told Madam Pomphrey ran completely out of Calming Draughts that afternoon, as you had apparently sent several Hufflepuffs into hysterics earlier that morning by insinuating that you would test their antidotes by poisoning them all."

"As I am the one who provides Poppy with those Calming Draughts, and therefore the one who will have to replace them all, I see no reason for anyone else to complain," Severus crossed his arms and looked away, "Besides, every single one of those brats produced satisfactory results, so at the very least my methods are effective."

Were they truly effective? A small voice that sounded like Black whispered in his ears. You taught the lesson, but at what cost? They will graduate this place hating you more than they ever feared you.   

Did he want his students to fear him? Did he want them to hate him? Was it smart to antagonise so many students, when their enmity might cause him problems in the future? Severus felt uncomfortable at the thought of Black's words being true.

No, he decided firmly. He had to show his loyalty to the SOW party. It was smart to favour the students whose parents held great power over the country. It didn't matter if he antagonised a hundred students when the only students who could potentially cause him problems in the future were his snakes. It was best to focus his energy on them.

"Leaving the subject of Severus' notorious teaching habits for the moment," Pomona put in, "There were a couple of students I thought we should discuss."

"Yes, I would say the same," Minerva said tersely, "Who are you concerned about?"

"Well, first, I wondered what you all thought of Neville Longbottom–" 

Severus snorted and zoned out as the others discussed the possibility that the idiot boy was being abused by his parents. It was obviously his grandmother who was at fault, as Albus was saying.

"– it very well may be the case that she has induced a low sense of self-confidence in the child. Keep an eye on the boy, Minerva, and see that he makes a few friends."

"On the subject of students with troubled home lives," Pomona interjected, "I also noticed something off about Marcus Flint. After being forced to repeat his fifth year and denied his OWLs, I expected more trouble from him, but he has been strangely timid and meek this year. It makes me worry for the poor boy, what with his home life. Thankfully, my Cedric seems to be helping him out between classes, but I still worry at his drastic change in attitude. " 

Sprout is hardworking and reaches out even to students outside her house, Severus remembered the boy's words suddenly. 

"Yes, I was going to mention Mr. Flint as well," Minerva said slowly, "He has been strangely polite to his other classmates, and less combative – when I talked to him after my last class to see if everything was okay, he seemed almost...frightened."

She frowned slightly. 

"His tests and quizzes used to always have slightly sarcastic responses, as if he were bored and annoyed by the very idea that he be asked to prove what he knows," she set her mouth thinly, "Now, though, his responses are downright polite, and he hasn't earned a single detention from me. The lack of misbehaviour is concerning, coming from him."

"What have you uncovered so far, Severus?" Albus turned to him. 

Severus felt a little blindsided. Of course, he had noticed that Flint was quieter than usual in class, but then again no Slytherin would dare misbehave in his class. It hadn't seemed an issue, especially when compared to the nightmare that was Arcturus Rigel Black.

"His home life is less than ideal, as you know. I shall make the necessary inquiries and investigate." 

"I don't think it is his home life." Filius, who had been silent until now, piped up.

All eyes turned to him.

Filius gave a mild smile.

"This is mostly conjecture, of course, but it was brought up to me by the upper years in my house. As you know, my eagles know not to put themselves in needless danger – if they see something off, they come straight to me." The small man sipped his tea. 

"About two weeks ago, one of my first years came running to the older 'Claws, saying they saw an older Slytherin boy drag a first year Hufflepuff into an unused classroom on the third floor. Of course, what with the track record your house has –" Severus snorted "– they immediately dropped everything and gathered two prefects, and sent a runner to fetch me."

"Was it a bullying case?" That was Minerva, always willing to believe the worst of his snakes.

Filius chuckled. 

"On the contrary! The prefects immediately recognised Flint when they arrived, being yearmates with him. He was playing Wizard's chess with Cedric Diggory in an unused classroom while young Rigel Black watched."

The offhand mention of Black sent chills down Severus's spine.

"By the time I arrived on the scene, the game was over, and Mr. Diggory seemed to be comforting Flint over his loss."

"What does this chess game have to do with Flint's behavioural changes?" Severus snapped.

Filius shook his head. 

"The last time I had seen Flint that day was in my class earlier in the afternoon. He was moody, snarky, sarcastic – much the same as he had been for the past five years in my class. Of course, when I saw him that night I assumed he was upset because of his loss against Diggory. His... distress did not seem out of place."

Severus suddenly felt cold.

"You are implying his changed behavior can be traced back to that night?"

Filius spread his hands.

"As I said, this is all conjecture. I suggest Pomona and Severus work together to find out what is really happening between Diggory, Black, and Flint. It is highly probable that it is not his home life troubling him this time."

Pomona looked thoughtful.

"I did think it was rather strange for Cedric to stick so close to Rigel – he's never properly befriended students from other years before. Perhaps there was something more to it after all..."

"Severus, I trust you to keep an eye on the situation," Albus said calmly.

"I keep both eyes on my Slytherins without your prompting, I assure you," Severus grumbled. He briefly considered bringing up Black, but decided against it. As frustrating as the boy was, there was nothing Severus could bring up to the other professors that they–

"While we are on the topic of Rigel, I am a little worried for the boy."

It was Pomona. Of course. 

"Is the boy struggling in your class?" Severus asked curiously.

Pomona shook her head, and Filius piped up.

"Both his academics and behaviour are exemplary. My eagles did report that there had been a small scuffle between Mr Black and Ms Greengrass last week, but as far as I know it had been a simple misunderstanding." 

"A misunderstanding?"

"The boy was under the impression that Ms Greengrass was the leader of a Half-blood rights activist group."

Against all odds, Severus felt relieved. Here was proof that even outside of his detentions, Black had something deeply wrong with his head. 

"Why did this not reach my ears?" Pomona asked sharply. 

Filius held up a tiny hand in a placating gesture. 

"Now, Pomona, you know my intelligence network only reports to me. I assure you, if it had been anything truly concerning, I would have immediately informed you. However, Mr Black himself apologised for the misunderstanding, Ms Greengrass chose not to pursue the matter, and the altercation never escalated. I only bring it up now because you wished to dicuss the boy."

Minerva predictably decided to interject by singing the brat's praises with nothing worthy to add to the conversation.

"Mr Black has been a joy to have in class – his responses go beyond the textbooks and his command over transfiguration is truly exquisite. I feel we could probably have him take more advanced classes if he is willing to put in the work – I haven't noticed anything worrying about him, Pomona."

Pomona stirred her tea with a furrow in her brow. 

"He... well, I'm worried that he hasn't made any friends in his year. Surely you've noticed how isolated he is in class? He's friendly enough when his classmates talk to him, but there seems to be a wall between him and his peers. By now, most first year 'Puffs would have formed small friend groups but he is not part of any of them."

Severus inwardly rolled his eyes. Trust Hufflepuffs to worry that a well-adjusted student with excellent grades did not have a friend group. Pomona pressed on regardless.

"The only student he seems to be bonding with is Cedric – but he needs someone his own age! I've seen him interact with the Weasley twins too, but again, they are older than him. It is still a minor worry for me, since it is only the first month of classes, but I do hope all of you will keep an eye out for Rigel." 

Against his better judgement, Severus inclined his head in assent. He would have to look into whatever Flint and Black had going on anyway. 

Albus smiled at his colleagues and rubbed his hands together. 

"Do keep us updated on the situation, Severus, Pomona. Now, I have some exciting news. We will be hosting our first transfer student since the Great War this year! We will need to make preparations for a late sorting ceremony for when she arrives next semester..."

Now that Pomona had mentioned it, it was difficult not to notice it.

Rigel Black was almost completely isolated from his yearmates. 

Sure, it wasn't obvious in Severus's class, where everyone was required to pair up whether or not they had friends. But even then, Black was the first to arrive and the last to leave. 

At the end of class, Black would often be trailing behind the crowd of chattering students by himself. Severus had thought nothing of it – but Pomona's words now rang in his head.

I'm worried that he hasn't made any friends in his year. Surely you've noticed how isolated he is in class?

During mealtimes, he was either not present, or sat at the very end of the long table – closest to the doors. It was where latecomers or people who didn't have a place to sit commonly sat. 

Aside from Diggory, the people sitting near him was never consistent. Sometimes, it would be a few upper years rushing in for a quick meal between classes, who would ignore Black entirely. 

Other times, it would be his age-mates. Black would smile at them and respond if he was directly addressed, but otherwise seemed content to not participate in their conversations. 

Most meals, he'd be sitting alone looking very contented – on these occasions, there would usually be a book on his lap. 

In the hallways and corridors, and on the school grounds, he was nearly always walking by himself.  

Occasionally, Severus would see him with Diggory – and with Diggory would come Flint. There was definitely something suspicious going on, and Severus was going to get to the bottom of it. 

Severus stared at the silver badge on his desk, then looked up at the person who had placed it there.

"You...wish to quit the quidditch team." Severus barely kept the incredulity from his tone. 

Marcus Flint shuffled his feet and looked away with a scowl.

"Is that so surprising? I have more important things to focus on. Quidditch is only going to distract me." 

Severus sighed. Assigning a new Quidditch captain... rearranging the team... ah, there was his tension headache. 

"Do you have a successor in mind?"

"Yes sir, although you should definitely help with the tryouts this year."

"Very well, Mr Flint. How is everything at home?"

"As well as they could be, Professor," the boy smiled wryly. Severus idly noted that Flint seemed to be making a conscious effort to act like his normal self. 

If not for Minerva and Pomona's words, he would not have noticed the faint dark circles under Flint's eyes or the way his left hand was fidgeting ever so slightly. Severus's eyes narrowed. 

"I hear you have been associating with Mr Diggory and Mr Black as of late."

It was as if a switch had been flipped. Flint recoiled, cowering like he had been struck. 

Severus frowned. That didn't look good. Was he in danger? Flint audibly swallowed.

"I'm not being threatened, I'm not being bullied. Nothing is wrong. Diggory and Black are my good friends who are helping me out of a b-bad situation. Please don't ask about it again, sir."

Flint turned to leave his office. 

"Mr. Flint." 

He stopped. Severus sighed. 

"If you simply tell me what is going on, I will be able to help you."

Flint did not turn around. His back was stiff. 

"You really won't be able to help me sir. Not in this. Sorry about that." 

And with that, he was off. Severus felt his tension headache worsen, hammering into his skull with much forcefulness. Why did Black have to be such a menace?

"Professor Snape, you asked me to stay after class?"

Severus looked down at the bright, fresh-faced Hufflepuff smiling mildly up at him. He wasn't good at dealing with children like Cedric Diggory. Ones who were uncomplicatedly sincere and good-natured and didn't seem to have a bone to pick with anyone. Especially when they couldn't be intimidated and had more than a few braincells to rub together.

Diggory truly had no weaknesses, for all that he was a Hufflepuff. 

"Mr Diggory. I am simply checking up on Marcus Flint. I noticed you have been helping him with his homework and occasionally eat dinner at the Slytherin table with him."

He brightened, his smile almost blinding now. 

"Rigel and I are good friends with Marcus. We are helping him out of a bad situation at the moment. Of course, if things get to be too much to handle I will immediately go to Professor Sprout or, er, you. For now, I hope you can believe in our friendship, Professor!"

That blinding smile was revitalising his migraine. With a sigh, he dismissed the overexcited Hufflepuff. 

During their next detention, Severus stopped Black before he could approach the stack of dirty cauldrons. Without preamble, he confronted the boy. 

"What did you do to Diggory and Flint?"

Black tilted his head, eyes guilless and mouth curved into that accursed faint smile. He was standing in that eerily unchildlike default pose of his, with his hands neatly folded behind his ramrod straight back.

"Flint and Diggory are my good friends, professor. Diggory and I are helping Flint out of a bad situation. It may look suspicious, but he is not being threatened or bullied. Far from it, in fact." 

That was almost word-for-word what Flint and Diggory had told him. Severus fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"Do not lie to me, Mr. Black. Tell me what is truly going on or get out of my sight."

Black chuckled. 

"Trust me professor, it really is nothing much. I am... leading Diggory towards achieving his apotheosis. To unlocking his potential. Flint is simply a means to that end, and he will also benefit from our arrangement eventually. No one important will get hurt."

"You clearly harmed Flint in some way. He seems to be living in a constant state of fear."

"Ah." Black rubbed his nose sheepishly. 

"That part happened before our little arrangement. I didn't mean to scare him that much, just enough to cooperate with us."

"So you threatened him?"

"Sweet Sagacious Circe! Of course I didn't threaten him! He tried threatening me!"

Severus narrowed his eyes. 

"He failed, of course. But it was such an adorable attempt at blackmail!" Was that nostalgia in his eyes? What was wrong with this child?

Black didn't notice Severus's shock and carried on: 

"I couldn't exactly let him go, seeing as how he did have blackmail material on me. But he was like a baby ball python, baring his little teeth at me! I couldn't punish a baby ball python, could I?" Black chuckled.

"It was rather serendipitous, really. Flint confessed to me that he was having trouble completing his assignments. Meanwhile, my good friend Cedric knows the material in all his classes up to seventh year like the back of his hand – and he'd been feeling bored with life as of late. So –"

With a benevolent smile, Black brought his hands together with a resounding clap that echoed throughout the room.

"I gift Cedric a pet ball python to play with and take care of. I give Flint a friend to help him with his assignments, and hopefully teach him some manners. In the upcoming summer, we help Flint deal with his father. I am entertained. Et voila! We all win!"

In the silence following that utterly insane declaration, Black cheerfully trudged towards the stack of dirty cauldrons in the corner and began his twice-weekly routine of scrubbing them. 

By the time Severus finally found his voice, Black was already on his third cauldron. He swallowed before he spoke, his mouth uncomfortably dry.

"That still does not explain why Mr Flint is always so cowed these days."

Black looked up, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Of course he's cowed. He swore an Oath of Fealty to Cedric, didn't he? That type of Oath leaves side effects for years. Could carry through his bloodline to his descendants if his will was weak enough."

What.

"And he swore an Unbreakable Vow to me, of course," he added offhandedly. "Blackmail, you know how it is. No choice."  

Severus put his head in his hands. 

"Why?"

Black blinked up at him with guilless eyes. 

"Professor, you seem under the impression the Cedric will abuse Flint as his Lord. He will not. Flint is his first vassal, his first subject, his first servant. Cedric fulfils his duty as Flint's Lord by helping him with his assignments, with his home life, with his behavior, with his mother. He will set Flint free and reward him for his loyalty when he ascends the throne."

"The...throne?"

Black blinked. 

"Oh. I forgot. Cedric will be taking over Great Britain within the next fifteen years. He agrees with me that there's a lot that needs to change around here, and he has the youthful energy and drive to implement my vision for the future. I'm grooming him to become a leader capable of staying in power. He is capable, don't get me wrong. Just needs a few small pushes in the right direction."

A short pause, then Black looked up once more.

"That's why I'm gathering vassals for him. I wouldn’t have insisted on the Oath of Fealty otherwise, I'm not a monster," he clarified. 

As if it justified forcing a fifteen year old into a lifelong, unbreakable oath. 

Severus mechanically retrieved the papers he needed to grade with trembling hands. Dipped his quill into a bottle of red ink. As his quill hovered over Pansy Parkinson's essay on the various uses of salamandar eyes, a single droplet of red dripped out of the nib. It looked like blood. 

He risked a glance at Black. For the first time, Severus felt ridiculously fearful of the eleven year old boy sitting across the room from him, quietly scrubbing cauldrons. 

Thankfully, the rest of that night's detention was pervaded by blissful silence. 

Pomona did not believe him. She actually laughed in his face when he told her about the Oath of Fealty. 

"Severus," she said kindly, "I know you dislike Rigel because of who his father is. But he is just a child. A child who is trying his best to do the right thing."

"What did he tell you?" Severus growled. 

"Cedric and Rigel are helping Marcus Flint draw up a case to help his mother to divorce his father. They are supporting him as good friends do. There is no Oath of Fealty or Unbreakable Vows or Sword of Excalibur!" She laughed again, and didn't call after him when he stormed off. 

"Severus, do you remember what I told you about the sins of the father?" Dumbledore's eyes were soft in understanding and pity. Severus wanted to punch him. 

"Sirius Black may have harmed you greatly, but his son has done no such thing. It is a great disservice towards the child to mistreat him based on the actions of his father." 

"I am not mistreating Rigel Black. The boy confessed everything to me. He told me–"

"Severus." The voice was firm. "Have you considered that the boy may now hold a grudge for you, and that this is simply a practical joke at your expense? Minerva told me you assigned him detention for the entire semester simply for talking back in class."

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore held up a hand. 

"I am not denying that Rigel may have told you some outrageous things, and perhaps they sounded beleivable to you in the moment. But the fact of the matter is that everything he told Professor Sprout can be verified as true, and is corroborated by both Mr Flint and Mr Diggory. Whatever he told you... there is no proof."

So this was why the little demon had been so honest with him. He had known. He had known that no one would believe Severus. The child of Sirius Black indeed.

"And Severus," Dumbledore was beginning to look rather stern. "Rigel does not have a single black mark against him outside of your detentions. He is a kind young man who deeply respects his Professors. Perhaps, if you approached him with an open heart–" 

Severus scoffed. Unlike his imbecilic colleagues, he knew something was deeply wrong with Rigel Black. 

The only problem was that he didn't know what to do with that knowledge.  

Severus wasn't a fan of Halloween, but he had to admit that as holidays went, it wasn't as insufferable as Christmas or Valentines. The food at the feast was usually not overly decadent, and as long as one avoided the Weasley twins and other rowdy students and retired early, it would be a blissfully uneventful day. 

He spent the bulk of the Halloween feast idly observing Black out of the corner of his eye. Black had noticed, but aside from throwing Severus a saucy wink, being watched did not seem to bother him. He was seated at the very end of the Hufflepuff table, with the doors to the Great Hall only a few paces away. As per usual.

Somehow, his goblet had been filled with some sort of corrosive liquid. Black was using the liquid it to lightly burn a lotus pattern into his handkerchief. Evrn from the head table, Severus could tell that Rigel Black was not artistically gifted, if that lotus was any indication. There was small gap between Black and the other Hufflepuffs sitting near him, perhaps avoiding the dangerous-looking liquid in his goblet that seemed to easily burn through cloth. 

Severus frowned. Where were Black's friends? He scanned the hall. 

Diggory was... sitting next to Flint at the Slytherin table. Ah. He should have expected that. It had been ridiculously easy to find him. All the Slytherins surrounding the pair had given them a wide berth. There was plenty of space for at least four people to fit in the gap in the benches between them and the nearest Slytherins.

Diggory had an arm around Flint and was brightly filling his plate with a wide variety of food. Flint, blank-faced, was mechanically eating everything Diggory chose, occasionally nodding and shaking his head when Diggory addressed him. Severus sighed to himself. If Flint refused to seek help, there was truly nothing he could do for him at this point.

There was a sudden clatter and a few soft screams. Severus turned to observe the commotion; someone had knocked over Black's goblet, spilling whatever dangerous liquid had been inside onto the floor and... Severus scowled. Onto a student. It was the Abbott girl, crying and shaking as she clutched her arm. 

Rigel was already bent over Abbott, pointing his wand at her and whispering what Severus hoped was reassurances at her. Sprout was already hurrying down from the Head Table, so this was none of Severus's business, thank Merlin.  

He was scanning the Slytherin table again to see how Draco was faring when the doors to the Great Hall slammed open. The hall fell silent as everyone turned to stare at the intruders. 

Nearly everyone, Severus corrected himself. Black had his eyes closed and seemed to be muttering a chant under his breath, keeping a steady healing glow over the areas the liquid had touched on Abbott. Sprout, too, was keeping a sharp eye over Abbott's burns.

Two figures stood in the doorway – a man and a child. The man was wearing a tattered old coat that was made of more patches and darnings than clear fabric. His long auburn hair was tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that cast his entire face in shadow. As he stepped into the hall, he tipped his hat up to look at the head table. His smiling face was strangely... familiar.

Had he been in the papers for something recently? Severus had a cold niggling feeling in the back of his head that he should be recognising that face somehow. He flipped through the books and newspapers he had read in the past six months in his mind palace, but came up blank.

Dumbledore, however, clearly was not having any trouble remembering the man's identity. Even from three seats away, Severus heard the sharp inhale. Okay. So he definitely should be remembering this man.

The man glanced at the the child behind him before striding forward. Taking this as an apparent signal, the child – a little girl in a red military uniform (Durmstrang, Severus's mind helpfully supplied) – hurried after him. He stopped when he had reached the far end of the long house tables, only a metre or so from the Head Table.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," began the man, his crisp voice echoing in the silence. If Severus had been standing he would have fallen over in shock, because he recognised that voice. It was the man from the howler Black had recieved. He was speaking English, but his cadence and light tone was almost exactly the same.

"I bring with me the new transfer student from Durmstrang to Hogwarts School. It is my deepest pleasure to introduce to you to Ms Louise Malin."

With a flourish, he gestured to the the girl behind him, who hastily dropped into a curtsy. At almost exactly the same time, there was a crash at the Hufflepuff table. Black had stopped his healing incantation and somehow fallen over his own feet while sitting down. Severus watched him shakily stand up, supported by Sprout and Abbott.

Albus stood up. When he spoke, his voice was unsettlingly cold.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Ms Malin. Apologies for the lack of ceremony. we were not expecting you for another two months. Perhaps your... uninvited and most unwelcome companion will explain the reason behind your expeditious arrival before he leaves?" 

The girl – Malin – gasped and glared up at the man. The man grinned down at her. 

"Now, Ms Malin. Remember what I told you. We come here not for you, but for–"

"LOUISE!"

Rigel Black was an eerily calm and collected child. He never raised his voice. Having the kind of soft voice that could easily carry across a noisy room to reach its recipient, he did not need to. Even so, he often pointedly waited for chatter to die down before he would speak in class. He never rushed anywhere, even when he was late. He strolled, he sauntered, he ambled, without a trace of worry. It all contributed to forming an uncanny adult-like aura. 

"LOUISE!" Rigel Black shouted again. Severus had never heard his raised voice before. It sounded desperate, joyful, hopeful... almost childlike. 

Louise Malin turned. Rigel Black was not sauntering, strolling or meandering towards her. He wasn't even running. He was sprinting. Before Severus could even blink, Black was halfway across the Great Hall. He reached out as he made a beeline for the girl. 

Right before he could touch her, the man from Durmstrang briskly caught him by the collar and lifted him off the floor. For a horrifying moment, Severus had the distinct impression of a misbehaving kitten flash through his head.

"Ah ah ah. She does not know you. Remember your manners."

To Severus's surprise, the boy obediently went limp and hung his head, allowing the man to set him down. Then, he bowed formally to the Malin girl. 

"Louise Malin, I am... you may call me Rigel. Rigel Black. I will forever be at your humble service. Would you..." He looked up, eyes pleading, sparkling with unshed tears. (Severus was momentarily stunned – so this was how Rigel Black would look like if he were a normal child)

"Would you allow this… this unworthy one to embrace you?"

Malin turned to look up at Bellum. He nodded at her with a half-smile. She turned back to Black with open arms.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet yo–Ooof!"

Severus watched with shocked interest along with most of the school as the notoriously touch-averse and emotionless Rigel Black began to cry into the arms of a girl he'd apparently just met, while she awkwardly patted him on the back.

In the meantime, Dumbledore had made his way down from the Head Table and was having a soft but (judging by their expressions) heated conversation with the man from Durmstrang. 

It seemed that Dumbledore had won the argument, because the man gave him a mocking nod of assent before turning to the two children locked in tight embrace beside him. 

"I will be in touch, Miss-ter Blight-ck. Au revoir."

He ruffled Black's hair before sauntering back towards the open doors of the Great Hall. There it was again. A sudden jolt of familiarity. Severus furrowed his brow. This time, it wasn't an ominous niggling feeling; it was deja vu. 

He had seen that deceptively carefree gait hundreds of times before. It took a moment to place it, because of their difference in size and demeanour – but...

Black extracted himself from his embrace to watch the man leave. As soon as the man was out of sight, he tugged Ms Malin towards the Hufflepuff table, already in a calmer mood. 

Observing them both walking away from the head table in succession made it remarkably obvious:

Rigel Black and the Durmstrang man had... not just similar, but identical gaits. There was virtually no difference between them. It was as though one of them had studied the other's manner of walking and strove to flawlessly imitate it.

Who was imitating who?

"Albus, surely we don't need an emergency staff meeting just to organise Ms Malin's sorting ceremony! We could simply put her up in the guest dormitories and bring out the hat during breakfast tomo– "

"This is clearly a meeting to discuss the man who accompanied the Malin girl, Minerva."

"Now now." Dumbledore said admonishingly, "We definitely will be discussing the matter of her sorting ceremony after this. However, Severus is quite right that the more pressing matter at the moment is Magnus Bellum, and his intentions while he is within the borders of Great Britain.”

And with that Severus knew exactly where he had seen the man's face before, and even the reason he had not immediately clocked his identity:

There were only two publically available photographs of Magnus Bellum. The first was his military portrait, likely taken while he was still in school. Nearly all the history books used this photograph; a sullen youth in his late teens wearing an austere military uniform, with limp hair framing his pallid face. 

Grindelwald's right hand man, the books called him, one of the only remaining survivors of his faction. A World History Of Wizarding War Crimes had an entire chapter dedicated to his exploits, along with a dizzying kill count.

The other photograph of Bellum was only used in a book titled Argent: The Deadliest Serial Killer in Wizarding History. The cover had caught a teenage Severus's interest when he'd been browsing a pile of half-off items at Diagon's second-hand bookshop. 

It was a gruesome book cover, featuring a sepia-toned candid photograph of Magnus Bellum (slightly older than the previous photo but still distressingly young) covered in blood and gore, scowling at someone off-camera. Severus had felt some morbid fascination when he'd read the book. Bellum had been unreal, someone who couldn't possibly exist on the same plane as him, someone like Sweeney Todd or Jack the Ripper.  

It was no wonder that Severus had not recognised him, had not reconciled the scowling, sullen, larger-than-life boy with the smiling wizard in tattered clothes who had unceremoniously barged into the Great Hall.

Minerva looked even more flabbergasted than Severus felt.

“Magnus – the war criminal?! Grindelwald's – What is he doing in Britain? What is he doing in Hogwarts?! With a young girl, no less?”

Albus sighed wearily. 

“It is not common knowledge outside certain circles, but he is a…Professor in Durmstrang. It was well within his rights to escort young Ms Malin from Durmstrang to Hogwarts.”

The silence following that proclamation was thick with incredulity.

“He is… he works with children?” Pomona sounded faintly ill. 

“That is irrelevant,” Severus snapped. “Durmstrang has no shortage of professors who have committed no crimes against humanity. That they chose to send Ms Malin here with one who has commited multiple is odd.”

Albus nodded gravely.

“Magnus has never done anything without having a plan for it. I have arranged to meet with him in Hogsmeade tomorrow for a neutral discussion. In the meantime, I want all of you to be on high alert, and enforce curfew strictly. In the worst case scenario, we may be standing on the brink of a war.”

Severus momentarily considered asking Albus if he recognised Bellum from the howler Black had received at the beginning of the year. No. He would bring it up after Albus's meeting with Bellum tomorrow, he decided. Once Bellum's motives were clear.

As it was, he was just going to look like he was targeting Black all over again. 

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that, with hasty plans made for an impromptu sorting ceremony the next day.

It had been a long day. Severus sighed as he entered his quarters. Perhaps he should take a nightcap before bed. Yes, and a Calming Draught. He could foresee many long days requiring copious amounts of alcohol ahead of him. Decision made, he stumbled towards his well-stocked liquor cabinet.

"Severus Snape, I hope?” 

Severus froze. 

Slowly, he turned.

There was a man sitting on his bed. He had one leg elegantly crossed over the other as though he were attending a tea party and had not just broken into Severus's bedroom. He uncrossed his legs with a smile and stood up.

“We haven't been formally introduced. Magnus Bellum, at your humble service." He bowed, his words a slightly mocking echo of Black's earlier introduction to Louise Malin.

“You are Severus Snape, I presume?”

It felt like his heart was pumping rivulets of ice through his veins. Suddenly, Severus was remembering Black's words during one of their first detentions. 

None of them fear you, not the proper kind of fear that would make them useful to you. So you failed at ruling through fear. Disappointing.

Had he been comparing Severus's intimidation factor to that of a war criminal who had a kill count in the thousands?

Severus did not know what higher power he had angered to have a serial killer war criminal in his bedroom. In the moment, he regretted every life decision he had made that led him to this situation. The serial killer in question had tilted his head with a small smile playing around his lips (that was Rigel Black's smile) as though eagerly anticipating a response from Severus.

Severus steeled himself, wiped any trace of emotion from his face, and slightly inclined his head. 

“I am he. To what do I owe the…pleasure?”

He had reflexively injected the statement with a little too much venom that revealed his inner thoughts, coating the word pleasure in irony. Before he could hastily backtrack, Bellum burst out laughing.

“Oh, I can see why Light likes you! Ah, but it is Black here isn't it? How amusing.”

“Light?”

“That is Black's pseudonym that is used for our correspondence.”

“Why do you–” Severus was rudely interrupted by someone banging on his door. Bellum tilted his head towards the door.

“You should open that. Let my apprentice in.”

“Your –” but the door was already opening (Why did he even bother locking the door if everyone was just going to break into his room anyway?).

Severus was unsurprised to find Rigel Black on the other side of the door. 

“Professor!” Black grinned brightly at Severus as he entered the room without waiting for permission. Then, his smile disappeared and he sneered at the man behind Severus.

“Bellum.”

The man in question didn't seem offended by the apparent hatred Black held for him. He strode forward and – without warning – wrapped his arms around the boy.

Severus was about to forcibly pull him away from thr child, but stopped when he realised the boy was hugging him back, his small hands grasping the man's tattered coat like it was a lifeline. When they finally separated, Black's eyes were suspiciously red and watery. 

“Okay! Now to business.” Bellum beamed, made a beeline for Severus's bed, and plopped himself back into his old position. Severus mentally made a note to buy new sheets for his bed. And he needed to burn his current sheets. He'd update the house elves once the two intruders left. 

Black had also taken a seat, although Severus doubted his floor was as comfortable as the boy seemed to find it.

“Alright, so, Professor! I'm going to tell you a very big secret about myself. And Bellum is here to verify my claims.”

Severus sighed and turned back to his liquor cabinet. Once he found the firewhiskey, he turned around and sat on the only chair in the room. In his room. Which only had one chair because he never invited anyone. To his room. He took a swig straight from the bottle and waved a wry hand at Black.

“Go on, Mr Black. I am listening.” 

Bellum was laughing quietly into his hand, but Black simply nodded brightly. 

“Okay. So, keep an open mind to what I am about to tell you. I'm from the year 2099. My true age is 119 years. I time travelled to the past mostly by accident, because I was trying to resurrect Bellum here” – Bellum waved at him – “but I mistook the logographs for rewind and assumed it referred to revival, that's because Neo-Proto-Indo-European logographs are a bitch to learn and I should have just brushed up on my kanji and done the array in Japanese like Anna suggested but then we wouldn't be here. But here we are, nevertheless.”

He spread his hands, looking a little sheepish. 

“Bellum has the memories of the next few years up to his death in my timeline. I have the memories of the next 108-ish years. I've mainly been trying to ensure we can take over Britain and change the laws a little more, er, bloodlessly this time. Bellum is… I don't know what he's doing actually. You never mentioned anything in your letters.”

“I've been sulking without my apprentice to entertain me, obviously.” 

“Ha. I bet you were just lazing around until you found the most dramatic possible moment to barge into Hogwarts.”

Bellum tilted his head and for a terrifying moment he looked exactly like his picture in Argent: The Deadliest Serial Killer in Wizarding History. Then he smiled, and it was somehow even more terrifying. 

“Do you think it is easy to arrange for a student to transfer from Durmstrang to Hogwarts? Particularly a foreign student to the notoriously xenophobic Britain? If Dumbledore weren't the Headmaster I would have just staged a coup as a distraction to bring Ms Malin into the country with me since it would have been easier to–”

“Okay, I get it! You worked hard. Thanks for bringing Louise. I appreciate it. Anyway…”

Black turned to Severus, who was taking his fourth swig of firewhiskey in as many minutes. 

“Any questions before we move on?”

Severus stared at his bottle. Firewhiskey would never let him down. He could trust Firewhiskey to have his back.

“You travelled back in time from… 108 years in the future. Why are you telling all this to me and not… Albus Dumbledore?”

Both Black and Bellum cackled, their laughs eerily melting into each other. Black stood up, looking strangely formal despite only wearing his school robes that were still dusty from the floor.

“Well, Severus – can I call you Severus? Okay, that looked like a nod. Severus, I am about to offer you something a great many would kill for – have killed for in fact. You have proven your worth, far quicker than I honestly expected you to, but the results most certainly speak for themselves.” 

“Did he really prove his worth? I think you're still starstruck by him even after a whole century to get over it. And you're just repeati–” 

“Shut up, Bellum. Now, Severus, it is my great honour to allow you the unique and invaluable opportunity…” he stared intently into Severus's eyes, “...to become my apprentice.” 

Severus dropped the bottle. It was empty anyway, and he'd spelled it to be unbreakable. It fell with only a clatter, spilling firewhiskey all over the floor. 

“So, do you accept? Or was that the most insufferable way to ask anyone to become your apprentice?” Black looked expectant, almost smug. 

Bellum shot Black a look that on another man Severus would have called disgruntled. 

“You do not know how to appreciate me, Light.”

Black threw back his head and let out a loud, hearty laugh. Severus watched with fascination at the childish glee on the boy's face. Both Black and Bellum seem to be sharing an inside joke. Severus did not know what it was. 

Black had finally stopped laughing. He turned back to Severus with an expectant grin.

“Terrible apprenticeship offers aside, I do like you, Severus. And I believe you will benefit much from being my apprentice. I am serious about wanting you as my apprentice. What do you want?”

What did Severus want? He wanted desperately to leave the room, preferably through the window where he could proceed to throw himself into the Black Lake, into the Giant Squid's loving embrace.

“Is…is this why you gave such in-depth critiques of my teaching methods?”

Black smiled ruefully.

“Yes and no. I'm a big fan of your work in potions, you see. You were the greatest potions Master of the 1980s and early ‘90s and I grew up idolising you. So of course, as a fellow teacher and Dark Lord I thought it would be good to give some advice to improve your general demeanour, have you either be feared or loved. Not hated, I don't want anyone to hate you, you're a genius! And adorable too! You look like a baby bat sometimes and I just want to tuck you into a wicker basket and set you free in a nice damp cave.”

Rigel paused, his shining eyes evidently envisioning the damp cave in great detail. 

“Mr Black, I –” 

"Please, Severus. I think we're past such formalities. Call me Rigel. Or Master Rigel, once you have accepted me as your teacher. I am not even a Black so I'd much prefer Rigel."

A cold silence. Severus desperately reached for his remaining brain cells, his intoxicated mind feeling especially sluggish. Oh no. He shouldn't have taken so much firewhiskey at once.

“You are not Arcturus Rigel Black.”

“Oh, of course not. Archie is off in America pursuing his dream of becoming a healer. He always regretted going to Hogwarts, you see. Even after he became a world renowned healer he would not stop yapping about how his time in Hogwarts stunted his growth as a healer and put unnecessary emotional pressure on him as a teenager. Even on his deathbed, all he could talk about was that he would have invented the cure for cancer at seventeen instead of twenty-eight if only he hadn't gone to Hogwarts. Always the dramatic one, was Archie.”

“Who…who are you?”

Black waved a flippant hand as Bellum dissolved into another wave of helpless laughter.

“Irrelevant. All you need to know is Archie is in on our ruse. I had to confess everything to him because he realised at once that I wasn't myself–”

“Disappointing.”

“Shut up, Bellum. I was a little confused when I landed in 1991. Mixed Archie up with Archie Junior – that's his great grandson, born just two months after he passed – and of course, I couldn't very well lie to Archie once I got my bearings! I mean I buried him barely twenty years ago, the loss was very recent. No offence, Bellum, but you'd been dead for a hundred years by the time I turned the hourglass. Exactly a hundred years. It was a crucial part of the rewind-revival array, that it be performed on the centennial anniversary of the deceased's death.”

“No offence taken,” said the madman settled in his chair, who seemed to think everything that had come out of the boy's mouth made perfect sense. “Although I do need to emphasise that I was content with moving on to the Great Beyond. I did not want to be revived.”

“Come now, won't you accept your beloved elderly student's final wishes?”

“You are eleven, Light.”

“I am technically a hundred-and-nineteen years old. On the brink of death. Technically, I killed myself to perform the ritual. It drained my core entirely. Anyway! Severus. We now come to the price of our honesty. Our friendship. My offer of apprenticeship. It is a very low price.”

Bellum laughed again at Black– at Rigel's words. Did the man ever stop laughing?

“Bellum needs to be here as a witness and as our bonder. It's fine if you don't want to be my apprentice, but all the other information is technically speaking, extremely confidential. You understand, don't you? We will need to make a few Vows so whatever we've revealed in this room stays within this room.”

“...I understand.”

“Such a smart boy! Well, I did accept you as my apprentice after all. In time you will also accept me as your teacher. Did you know I had a hundred and fifty-seven apprentices? And almost all of them came around eventually. Well counting Cedric it would be a hundred and fifty-eight but he was my Lieutenant back in my time so it is rather awkward to ask him to be my student here, young as he may be. And of course, George is wonderful but I never realised how much of him he had lost with Fred! So of course if I take George on, I'll need to get to know Fred first–"

"What in the heavens were you doing to take on a hundred and fifty-se–"

"Shut up, Bellum. You died on me, in case you forgot. I could take on as many apprentices as I wanted because you were dead. Besides, nearly all of them were Potions apprentices. I taught my students what was truly important."

"Importan– Victoria! You were my apprentice! You–"

“Let's just get the Vows over with so I can go to bed, Black, Bellum. You can continue your touching reunion outside."

The next day, Dumbledore returned from his meeting with Magnus Bellum with the reassurance that he was returning to Durmstrang within the week. When pressed on the man's intentions for crossing Britain's borders, Dumbledore only offered a mysterious smile. 

Severus chose to optimistically interpret the smile to mean that Bellum would never return to Hogwarts again.

In the meantime, Louise Malin was sorted into Slytherin – much to Severus's utter despair. It meant that Rigel spent nearly all his mealtimes sitting at the Slytherin table, and Rigel was now apparently a common sight in the Slytherin Common Room.

To make things worse, Louise was a perfect Slytherin. She was shrewd, sly, cunning. She got along well with the other Slytherins in her year. Her manners were perfect, her poise and bearing elegant. And of course, she had a biting wit that endeared her to everyone who met her.

Severus did not know what exactly Rigel and Bellum had told Malin about him, but she seemed distinctly unimpressed by him. When she thought he wasn't looking at her, he'd caught utter disdain approaching disgust on her face. When he turned to look directly at her, however, she would smile demurely at him. It probably wasn't a surprise that she got along famously with Ms Parkinson when Rigel wasn't around.

The worst part of it was that Rigel now was part of a friend group from hell: Cedric Diggory, Marcus Flint, Louise Malin and of course Rigel himself. Severus dutifully did his best to avoid them whenever he saw them around.

Severus did not burst into tears of relief when all four of them chose to leave Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays. It was a close thing, though.

"You know, I never met you in my first life."

Severus had tried multiple times to convince Rigel that his detentions were no longer necessary – the previous semester had ended. He had not assigned Rigel a single detention since school started. On one memorable night Severus had even kneeled and begged him to stop coming like clockwork every other evening (the only result was a cruel chuckle after which Rigel had cheerfully informed him that Bellum owed him ten galleons. They had made a bet on when he'd get desperate enough to kneel. Severus stopped trying after that) 

Rigel seemed to think evenings spent scrubbing cauldrons and occasionally chattering at Severus was not a waste of his time. He still seemed under the mistaken impression that Severus was an immature, wet-behind-the-ears apprentice instead of his professor. 

In one of his efforts to put an end to the detentions, Severus had discreetly made inquiries to the other professors on the boy's grades and was disappointed but unsurprised that Rigel was still at the top of every one of his classes. The boy clearly didn't need to spend the evenings studying.  

Severus had witnessed him write an essay meant to be written over a weekend in fifteen minutes before the bell rang for lunch. It was clear that Rigel's true age was older than eleven. No eleven year old was that good. 

Regardless, here they were. Severus and Rigel, carrying out one of their endless detentions. Tonight it appeared Rigel was feeling chatty. Instead of giving Severus one of his many lectures on charisma and vibes and having an aura of fear without diminishing respectability, he had evidently decided to talk about his second-favourite conversational topic: the future where he was apparently from. 

Severus closed his eyes and willed himself not to give a biting response. The boy had the uncanny ability of twisting everything Severus said to make it seem like they were the words of a grimy, unruly child who needed discipline. 

(Apparently – as Rigel was fond of commenting – his attitude was remarkably similar to that of Rigel's beloved fifth apprentice, who had been only sixteen when she died)

As always, Rigel didn't seem to take offence at the lack of response. 

"Well, I say I never met you but I'd seen you from a distance before, of course. Never worked up the courage to approach."

He smiled wistfully. Somehow, his tone was melancholy.

"I was so star-struck. See, I'd grown up reading your articles, seeing your research breakthroughs in Potions journals. You're a genius! When I was eleven I wanted nothing more than to become your apprentice."

Severus massaged his temples. He'd definitely need some firewhiskey after this outrageous tale.

Rigel smiled ruefully and put down the cauldron he had been scrubbing. 

"I was so naive back then, thought I knew everything. I thought to myself, I'll introduce myself to Master Snape once I make a name for myself in Potioneering. We will meet as equals."

He paused.

"Of course, part of the reason I avoided approaching you was also the way you were glaring at me. Not that I could blame you, of course, what with the situation at the time."

His hands had completely stopped any pretense of scrubbing. His eyes looked distant, old and tired.

"Anyway, I thought I had time. But then Master Bellum died, you see, and I no longer had a voice of reason to hold me back or a sane adult figure I could rely on."

Severus did not quite succeed at keeping the incredulous expression off his face. Magnus Bellum, known best for being a serial killer and war criminal and a Dark Lord, a sane voice of reason?

Rigel laughed at his expression. It was a hollow laugh, tinged with sorrow and fatigue. 

"I know, I know. You have to understand, Master Bellum was the only one I would have listened to in my grief. If it had been anyone else who was killed, Master Bellum would have been there to talk me down from doing everything I did."

Rigel turned to fully face Severus with a sad smile. 

"Apologies. I suppose this is a very confusing tale for you. It's hard to see what one element of the story has to do with another."

A stack of assignments lay ungraded on his desk. Severus needed to mark them so he could return them to his dunderheads by tomorrow.  

Despite himself, Severus was feeling some level of morbid fascination. Perhaps he was curious as to his role in the boy's supposed past life. The boy cleared his throat

"The situation was that I was negotiating with the SOW party to make certain... changes. Of course, I'd included a few warnings in my negotiations–"

"Warnings?" 

"Just some half-hearted death threats to get them to take my negotiations seriously, nothing fancy. Anyway–"

"Half-hearted death threats?" Severus felt very much like a parrot. 

"Well, I didn't have solid plans to kill them at the time. And we had not engaged in any violence at all yet. So it wasn't really a threat. Just a warning to make them listen."

Severus disagreed, but something in Rigel's eyes stopped him from voicing it. There was a darkness there that perhaps would not accept his opinion with an indulgent smirk this time. 

Rigel seemed detached, far away as he continued. 

"They overreacted. Overreacted enough that even we didn't expect it. Called us terrorists and sent a small army to ambush us when we were there to peacefully negotiate. It was hmmm..."

He paused, appearing to count with his fingers. 

"Five of us in the delegation to the ministry against two hundred and forty-eight people with at least two fighters who were borderline Lord Level. Maybe I was stupid to think they'd engage in negotiations, I don't know. Riddle seemed so open to have talks, to not let things escalate."

A sigh. 

"It was a good lesson for me, to not trust in people so easily. You know, I never understood Master Bellum and his 'kill first ask questions later' policy until then. He didn't hesitate, not like me. Killed seventy-nine of them until the two borderline lord-levels managed to corner him, and several other mages shot cursed crossbows at him from a distance. I was too busy fighting and protecting the other three to realise. A moment of distraction cost me the lives of the three I was protecting."

To Severus's horror, silent tears began leaking from the boys eyes even as he remained blank-faced. 

"I don't fully remember what happened after that. Just kill, kill, kill, then suddenly Master Bellum was dragging me out of there and we were apparating away. And I was so angry, I wanted to go back there and fight, collect the bodies of the fallen, kill the rest of 'em. He backhanded me, hard. I saw stars, couldn't breathe for a second. I was still angry, but i came to my senses."

Rigel rubbed his eyes with a faint smile. The tears didn't stop falling. 

"He said... he said I wasn't realistically going to survive that fight, that in the future I needed to know when to make a strategic retreat or else I was going to die in a battle like that. Told me my hesitation cost me the lives of my subordinates. Told me he wasn't going to be there to drag me out of trouble next time, so I needed to shape up."

Another hollow laugh. 

"Merlin, it's been a century and it still hurts. I still remember seeing his seventeen cursed wounds and thinking it was nothing. I thought he was invincible. He wasn't. He wasn't. He straight up told me he was dying but he sounded so sarcastic I didn't believe him."

Rigel raised his arms, holding them before his body at a ninety degree angle. It looked like he was keeping an invisible person steady. 

"I was holding him like this, see, by the shoulders. Cracked a joke about him being like a fucking cockroach, the way he never died no matter how much everyone tried to kill him. And he laughed, laughed so hard he stumbled into my shoulder, like this."

He pulled his arms closer in a facsimile of hug. 

"I thought he'd fainted, which was a first for him. Took a couple minutes to realise he was dead."

He chuckled.

"The grief was so potent I shocked even myself. It was surreal to lose four people I cared for in one afternoon – especially when I didn't even realise I cared for them until they were dead. I was the one who had suggested negotiating before escalating to violence too, so perhaps there was guilt there too."

"What were you planning to negotiate?" 

Rigel waved his hands flippantly.

"Some stupid legislation. I won't let it get passed so it won'tbe a problem this time 'round, trust me. The point is, Riddle and the SOW party had displeased me, annoyed me, betrayed me, angered me, killed all my closest allies in one fell swoop. It was... exhilarating."

"Exhilarating?"

"Having so much anger, so much power itching to destroy, having a clear place to channel it all, and having no one left alive who could stop me. It was like... like freebrewing. Suddenly, I was no longer restricted by morals, by my friends, by my mentor, by some arbitrary pre-set rules to follow as a human. I didn't even have a sense of self-preservation in those few months following the incident. I was truly free.

"For a group that orchestrated such an ingenious ambush, they were extremely stupid in the aftermath. To gather so many of their important members in one easily accessible location for a birthday party of all things."

His tone had become faintly nostalgic.

"I'd made a list beforehand, with pictures and everything. Those on the list I made sure to only stun. Everyone else, I killed. I was efficient about it, the way Master Bellum taught me. I didn't revel too much in the blood, the screams, the suffering."

Why did the maniac sound wistful? 

"I didn't use the killing curse at all, you know. Was so proud of it too. Most of them died from a common household charm to slice bread. Everyone not on the list was killed. Men, women, children. In my mind they were all complicit. Complicit and faceless. Perhaps i should have spared the children, but..."

He shrugged dismissively, to Severus's growing horror.

"Anyway, I worked my way through the party, then revived the stunned people and tortured them to my hearts content. They gave me all the information I needed to burn down wizarding great Britain and remake it from the ground up. I didn't really care at the time, of course. It wasn't business, it was pleasure – not that those idiots knew it." 

A cruel, sadistic edge entered his smile. Those eyes – still so far away – were dark with twisted pleasure and amusement.

"Riddles screams were so sweet. The way he kneeled, the way he begged for mercy. Ah...He squealed like a stuck piglet. I cast an imperius for the first time in my life, made him do a little dance for me, then I ordered the Malfoy Lord to kill him. It was so funny how fast his underlings betrayed their master. Just a little torture and they're ready to sell out their nation. It was fortunate that I was the one who was buying."

Severus jumped when Rigel suddenly clapped his hands together.

"I'm getting off topic. I do apologise, Severus. When you get to my age, all you want to do is reminisce about the past. Youngsters like you should make sure your elders don't get sidetracked. Perhaps we should wrap up detention for tonight."

He grinned cheerily at Severus, all traces of melancholy, anger, grief, sadism gone. As though they had never been there. He had already reached the door when Severus found the presence of mind to stop him.

"Mr. Black."

He turned, his grin slightly lopsided. 

"Why... why did you tell me all this?"

The grin brightened – somehow looking even creepier than the sadistic smirk he had worn a few moments ago.

"Oh, did I forget to mention it?" He chuckled ruefully. 

"You were one of the hundred and twenty seven faceless people I killed that night. Didn't even realise I'd killed you until I read the official death toll. Felt a little guilty, that my idol ended up collateral damage in my grand plan for vengeance. The whole experience was good for me, overall. Taught me not to charge in blindly, to look before I leap."

He opened the door and gave Severus a jaunty wave.

"It was truly a pity we never got the opportunity to meet back then."

Cedric Diggory was in detention. The reason? He had been in the Slytherin Common room with Flint and Malin, and hexed a first year unprovoked. 

Ms Davis had developed pustules all over her body in a remarkable replica of Spattergroit, and was escorted to the non-quarantined portion of hospital wing in tears. That would have been bad enough, if Ms Davis had not also suddenly collapsed from the new unknown sickness going around Hogwarts.

Severus – as the Professor who had been called to the scene and thus assigned the detention – had the great misfortune of having to supervise Diggory's detention. His actions were not, as it happened, entirely unprovoked.

Apparently, Davis had loudly said that everyone in Hufflepuff was cursed to die from the sickness because the first patient had quote ‘slept with a mudblood’.

The first patient, a Ms Jones, was one of the many first years known for following older Hufflepuffs around like a duckling during the first few months of school. As was natural, Diggory had grown fond of the girl. He had been grimly satisfied at finding out the Davis was the first non-Hufflepuff to be struck by the illness. Karmic justice, he'd called it.

All in all, it was an ugly situation.

Sometime in the last few months, Diggory had adopted Rigel Black's infuriatingly serene smile, and he did not drop it for the duration of his detention. It was very uncomfortable to grade papers with that creepy smile directed at him from across the room. 

When Diggory finally left Severus’s office, he saw through the open door that Lee Jordan and Marcus Flint had been quietly waiting outside for the boy. Diggory nodded at them before striding off, not looking behind him to see that they were following. And they were most definitely following him. Like Crabbe and Goyle would follow Malfoy.

Severus felt his head pounding. He did not have time for this. He had several batches of Snowhit and Aurora's Breath to brew after he finished grading these assignments. He did not have time for this.

How in the world had Diggory managed to get an Oath of Fealty from Lee Jordan?

Severus glared at the trembling man he had backed against a wall.

"It will be called off when the legislation has gone through," Quirrell offered weakly.

"Fool! The sickness is spreading more rapidly than anticipated," Severus snarled, "I have already used up all my stores and the local suppliers are running dry as well. Without the ingredients to keep their bodies alive, it doesn't matter if the sickness is recalled when He's gotten what He wants."

"I don't know what you want me to do, Severus," Quirrell blubbered, cowering under Severus's glare.

"Tell me how to counter it," Severus pressed, "Just in case, Quirrell. The mission is important, but do you think He wants pureblooded children to end up dead? That will not sit well with His plans, especially if this ever gets traced back to Him somehow. Their parents will turn on more than just Dumbledore if these children come to any actual harm because you haven't given me enough information to step in if I judge it to be necessary."

"I can't, I don't know how myself, Severus," Quirrell said finally, speaking quickly, as if to convince him all in one breath, "But I will ask Him. I will tell Him what you say, when I am next called, and surely He will have a solution."

Severus growled wordlessly and spat, "You'd better hope you see Him soon." 

He stormed back to his office, not noticing the intruder inside until he was already rummaging through his stores for a Calming Draught.

"Severus." Severus flinched and turned. 

It was Rigel, sitting in Severus’s chair, smiling pleasantly at him. 

"Outside of Quirinus, you are also part of the SOW party, no? Tom's favoured underling, as I understand it."

Severus inhaled before schooling his expression into something approaching calm. 

"What of it? I am very busy, Black. I need to brew–"

“You know who is behind the sickness, don't you? You know the reason it was sent. You know that Riddle is responsible.”

"He is not involving me in his plans for this. Unfortunately. You can rest assured that I disapprove of his actions, if he is responsible for this." 

“You don't seem overly concerned that a sickness has been sent to a school full of children to make a political point.” Rigel’s voice was cold.

Severus bristled, even as a wave of guilt rippled through him.

“I assure you, Mr Black, that –”

"Tell him to stop. Make him stop." 

Snape paused and stared at the surprisingly childish declaration. Rigel turned away from him, expression blank. 

"You know, I'm a pretty stereotypical Hufflepuff. I was rather enjoying my time bonding with my housemates. Making friends. Braiding each other's hair. Spoiling Louise rotten with everything she wants. It is irritating to no longer have the ambient, happy chatter of children while I do my homework."

He crossed his arms.

"Everyone is tense and frightened, Louise was scared too! And I am the adult, their leader, the one whose oversight led them to get sick, so of course I had no choice! I had to investigate! It is clear that the sickness is Riddle's doing. The only reason I have not unleashed my wrath is because Louise remains unharmed."

"Mr. Black–"

"I...dislike involving children in petty political squabbles, Severus. I find it distasteful." 

For a moment, Rigel appeared much taller and broader than the skinny eleven year old body he inhabited.

"I will deal with Quirinus. He won't be problem. Tell Riddle to stop before he lives to regret it." 

Black's eyebrows furrowed slightly, his expression softening at the frozen look on Severus's face.

"Look – I will help you brew everything you need for the hospital wing. Snowhit and Aurora's Breath, yes? I have my own secret laboratories in the dungeons. You just refresh your core and focus on getting the message to Riddle."

Severus nodded, the movement stiff. He didn't even think of questioning how and why Rigel had procured secret potions laboratories.

"By the way, Severus." The boy turned, a half-step outside his office. His smile was wry.

"I did call this a petty political squabble, but do bear in mind that the legislation Riddle wishes to push...I am intimately familiar with the details, where I come from."

Where Rigel came from. The future. Severus shuddered. The future where Rigel had apparently indiscriminately massacred the SOW party over a piece of legislation. 

The ensuing pause was heavy, sombre. Rigel shook his head.

"...I suppose this sickness was how he managed to gather support to pass it, back in my day. It angers me greatly, Severus. Makes me vicious. But you know that already."

Another prolonged pause.

"I do not know why he implemented that law, and I do not care. I have destroyed him before and I will do so again. For now, I am content simply with getting him out of Hogwarts. "

The boy smiled beatifically.

"I have grown fond of you, Severus. As I grow fond of all my students. I take responsibility for them. I let them out to play, but if they cross the lines I have drawn? I put them down. I've put seven of my students down, so far."

He finally turned to walk off.

"I'd appreciate that you not become the eighth."

Severus swallowed. He should definitely discuss Lord Riddle's new plans with him. See if there were any alternatives to achieving his goal.

Rigel's eyes softened when he saw the expression Severus was wearing. He was surrounded by ten cauldrons of bubbling potions. 

"Talks with Riddle did not go well, then?"

Severus inclined his head, feeling utterly exhausted. Lord Riddle had not been pleased by his sudden dedefiance. It had been a long day.

“If it is any consolation, the illness is far from life-threatening.”

Rigel hummed as he wandlessly floated ginseng to all ten cauldrons – his imbuing did not even waver, what kind of monstrous magical reserves did he have?

“Alright. I appreciate your efforts, dear Severus. You are a credit to your profession, so do not fret, my apprentice.”

Severus had long since given up convincing Rigel that he was not his apprentice. Instead, he helped him finish brewing the Potions and packed the filled vials into the crates on the floor. 

As they walked towards the hospital wing – Rigel with two crates and Severus with four – Rigel turned to Severus.

“Would you be able to convince Madam Pomfrey to let me in today? I could break in, of course, but that's rude so it is my last resort.”

Severus sighed. 

“I will ask her if she can make an exception for you, that you can visit your friends.”

“All my dorm-mates have succumbed so I have definitely been exposed to the pathogen,” Rigel put in helpfully.

Severus shook his head at the blasé tone. 

Madame Pomfrey was very curt as she accepted the crates from them. When Severus hesitantly made the request, she glanced down at Rigel and softened. 

Severus also looked down, and had to actively fight the urge not to gag at the sight of Rigel Black with enormous watery grey eyes and a trembling lower lip. He looked like a kicked puppy.

“Five minutes. Not a second more.”

Rigel smiled and nodded vigorously. Once inside, he made a beeline for the nearest student – it was Macimillian. Crouching beside the unconscious child, he closed his eyes and bowed his head, hands intertwined with the other boy. 

After nearly six minutes of silence, Severus was quite ready to wake Rigel up from his meditation. But as he approached the bed, he caught sight of the movement. 

Macimillian's hands were twitching. 

When Severus was close enough to view his face, it was clear that under his closed eyelids, his eyes were also restlessly moving back and forth. His breaths were coming in short bursts, as if he were hyperventilating in his sleep. 

He… was Rigel Black actually curing the sleeping sickness?  

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, all the movement stopped at once. The child was deathly still once more, breathing abruptly calm and even. 

Rigel opened his eyes solemnly. He turned to Severus and accepted the offered hand of support, not protesting when he was gently steered out of the hospital wing. They were halfway to the Great Hall when the boy stumbled and crouched down onto the floor, wrapping his small arms around his knees. His shoulders were shaking. 

Severus felt rather awkward. How does one comfort a child who thinks they are an all-powerful time-travelling Dark Lords from the future? He shook his head. For that matter, how does one comfort an all-powerful time-travelling Dark Lord from the future? 

Those shoulders were shaking a bit too violently – concerningly violent. Hesitantly, Severus laid a hand on one shoulder. It was immediately thrown off as Rigel abruptly stood. With a clear view of the boy's face, it was clear that he had not been crying. 

The smile was grotesque, too wide, too sharp, too many teeth, and those wide, unfocused eyes… 

Giving up all pretense of solemnity, Rigel began maniacally laughing in earnest. The sound echoed throughout the corridors like some deranged madman had been unleashed. 

“Mr Black!”

As abruptly as he had started, he stopped. Turning wide, innocent eyes to Severus, Rigel grinned.

“Severus, will you get me a list of all Hogwarts students who are related to the SOW party? Particularly from the lower years, those most likely to be affected by the sickness, but the older years would be good too. I can weaken their minds, make them more susceptible to the illness.”

“I most certainly will not give you a list of students to attack, Mr Black–”

Rigel raised a single hand, and Severus snapped his mouth shut. The boy's eyes were still dancing in amusement, but his smile was hard. Somehow, the temperature had dropped several degrees.

“If you don't give me a list, I will have no choice but to collectively weaken everyone at Hogwarts for my plan to work. Yes, I didn't think you'd like that. You care for your students after all.” Rigel's eyes softened as he patted Severus's frozen hand.

“I like you, so I'll allow you to choose, Severus. All your students, or only the students with the misfortune of being related to the idiots in the cow party. You have my word that I will not harm them any more than Riddle already has.”

Severus stayed silent. Rigel sighed, as though it was Severus who was being difficult.

“Look, Severus. Did I not grant you the opportunity to negotiate with Riddle, to do things your way? I told you that it is all right that you failed. But the problem persists because of your failure. And it is my duty to cover for my apprentices' failures, no?”

The floor was made of stone. Slightly grimy as it always tended to be at this time of the day. There were scorch marks where one of his idiot students had likely set off fireworks indoors. Severus heard another sigh from the boy he was determinedly not looking at. 

“I will give you until the end of today to choose, Severus. After that, you have no control over my actions.”

His footsteps seemed to echo as he left Severus standing frozen in the middle of the hallway. 

All the first years barring Louise and Rigel had fallen ill. Then, one by one the older students – the ones on the list Severus had reluctantly written for Rigel – began to fall ill as well. 

The school was entering a state of quiet panic.

Meanwhile, Rigel attended his unassigned detentions as per normal like clockwork. Instead of scrubbing cauldrons, he brought with him a copy of the Daily Prophet and was doing a dramatic reading of the article about the sleeping sickness.

“...Where is Dumbledore leading the future of the Wizarding World, which has until now been left so trustingly in the bastion of the Light's wizened hands?” He finished with a flourish. 

Severus ignored him and continued to grade his student's papers. Rigel taking over his brewing had left him surprisingly free in the evenings – and thus unable to postpone their twice-weekly detentions. 

Rigel folded the paper and threw it onto Severus's desk.

“I'm actually rather glad the Malfoys allowed their boy to get sick and are now shamelessly parading themselves like clowns to get some strategic edge over Dumbledore. Makes it easier to execute my plan. Thank Merlin the Malfoy kid is down.”

“Mr Black,” Severus started hotly, because that was his godson, but he was flippantly interrupted. 

“You worry too much, Severus. I know this illness. If Malfoy is confident enough to allow his son to succumb to it to be used in a political gambit, then it is not likely to be truly harmful to any student. Regardless, I did not come here to gossip.”

Rigel reached into his pocket and extracted the piece of parchment Severus had given him. The list of all SOW party children in Hogwarts.

“You are certain that these are all of them? No names to add?”

Severus nodded wearily. Rigel smiled, his grin almost childlike in its glee.

“Okay. You don't have to worry, Severus. The last of them should succumb by tonight.”

“What then?”

“What then?” Rigel sprang to his feet and made a dramatic gesture.

“Then, Rigel Black will miraculously cure every last one of the poor souls struck with this dastardly disease, this malignant malady, this abhorrent affliction, this –”

“Get out of my office, Mr Black.”

The boy obeyed, cackling loudly all the way.  

Perhaps it was the easy confidence Rigel carried on him like a second skin. Perhaps it was the fact that Rigel had explicitly told Severus he disliked harming children to reach his goals. Perhaps it was even the reassurance that came from Draco Malfoy succumbing to the illness.

Regardless of the true reason, Severus felt a little calmer after his meeting with Rigel Black.

"How will you do it?” 

Rigel shrugged. 

“I've battled Zuriel at the height of her power before. This is going to be child's play. In fact, I think I'd even be able to do this if I was actually a child, it's that simple.”

He strode forward, stopping when he stood in the very middle of the Hospital Wing and was surrounded on all sides by hospital beds. The weak pre-dawn light seemed to illuminate him with a soft angelic finish. He promptly ruined the effect by shooting Severus a wicked grin.

“Now stand back. This may take a few hours.”

With that dismissal, Rigel dropped to the floor in the cross-legged lotus position commonly used for meditation.

Barely five minutes later, the hospital wing was filled with rustling and heavy breathing. A few students had begun twitching and struggling in their beds.

Macimillian was the first to open his eyes with a wheeze. He tried to jump out of bed and immediately collapsed, weeks of not moving taking their toll. Pomfrey, who had just entered the room to administer the morning medicines, gasped and immediately began tending to the awakening children.

Half an hour later, all the Hufflepuffs were awake and a few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were beginning to stir. Some of them were listless and quiet, others as energetic as if they'd simply woken from a power nap. Eerily, all the Slytherins remained completely still, evenly breathing without a single twitch of their eyelids. 

After a few more minutes, Severus realised that a few of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were also completely motionless. They were the ones with family in the SOW party, he realised with horror.  

What was Rigel planning?

As though he had heard Severus's despairing thought, Rigel's eyes flew open. He blinked sleepily and glanced around in interest at the noise and commotion around him. Stretching, he stood up, kicking the pins and needles out of his feet. 

When he turned to Severus, it was with a blindingly bright smile. Still beaming, he approached the harried Matron, who was frantically taking the vitals of all her patients.

“Madame Pomfrey, I'll need to awaken the rest individually. May I have a privacy screen so that I won't be disturbed?”

Pomfrey looked close to tears of relief, joy, and stress all at once.

“Of course, Mr Black. Of course. Anything you need. Severus, will you…?”

He nodded briskly and went to fetch the privacy screen for Rigel. 

On average, each student after the initial crowd took about ten minutes to revive. Severus did not observe any significant differences between Rigel's method for awakening the SOW party children and the other students.

He would sit in a lotus position as he had before, with a small furrow of concentration in his brow. After a time, the sleeping student would start twitching and hyperventilating. Then, they would leap awake as though awakened by a nightmare. 

However, Severus couldn't help but notice that the older students took longer to revive. Rookwood took a full thirty minutes, with Selwyn taking forty-five. Pucey took twenty and amusingly, Flint barely took five minutes. Rosier had taken a whole hour. 

It was strange – the older students were less susceptible to the sickness. Logically speaking – even if they had been weakened beforehand – it wouldn't have made sense for them to struggle more than the first years in fighting off the illness. 

Another thing Severus noticed was the difference in attitudes between the ones who had woken as a group and the ones Rigel individually revived. 

After waking up, most of the children tended to be relieved and happy to be awake. Some were energetic and boisterous. Most of them freely described the curing process as ‘a rush of cleansing fire washing away the black gooey monster’.

For the SOW party children, however, nearly all of them were subdued and quiet. When questioned, they uniformly refused to explain how they had been awoken. Selwyn was more irritable than subdued, but had a troubled look on her face. 

It was midnight by the time the final student (Malfoy) could be awoken. Rigel was beginning to look rather ragged from the relentless healing – he had only briefly paused for a twenty minute lunch and bathroom break at high noon. Pomfrey had also tasked Severus with forcing the boy to drink water at regular intervals.

Severus had stopped observing him so closely, now that he was confident that the boy wasn't going to cause serious harm to his students. At first, nothing had seemed out of order. 

Rigel had gotten into the lotus pose, closed his eyes, and furrowed his brow. Draco began to twitch at the five minute mark. Then, he went still. Ten minutes later, there was movement again – but it was another false alarm. The cycle continued, sometimes ten minutes, sometimes fifteen minutes.

Severus watched in trepidation as one hour passed, then another. It was approaching 3 in the morning when Draco Malfoy awoke with a bloodcurdling scream of terror, tears streaming down his face. 

Rigel Black stood up with a weary sigh and promptly collapsed into the nearest empty bed, fast asleep.

Draco looked exhausted but none the worse for wear. Lord and Lady Malfoy were both sitting by his bed, while Severus stood off to the side observing the proceedings. 

“Do you remember how you were cured, Draco?”

The boy looked down hesitantly before nodding. His hands, hidden beneath his blanket, were fidgeting in a very un-Malfoy like manner. He was not back to his normal self, that much was evident.  

“Would…would you be willing to tell us about it, Dearest?”

Draco frowned. His face was even paler than usual, and his eyes were bright. With tears, realised Severus with horror.

“Father…did you knowingly endanger me just to gain a strategic edge in politics? Rigel… Rigel told me. That the sickness was to make Dumbledore lose credibility to the public. So you could push some legislation. To the Wizengamot.”

Rigel had not told Draco anything. Severus knew this because the brat was still passed out from exhaustion in a nearby bed. Pomfrey had tutted but simply left a few enrichment potions for him to take when he awoke. Regardless, Draco was still in the middle of his tirade.

“Tell me I didn't almost die for a piece of legislation to be passed.” 

Narcissa looked utterly horrified.

“Of course we would never endanger you like that, Draco! You were perfectly safe. You know your father and I wouldn't–”

“Do you know what it felt like, living in fear every day, watching my friends collapse one after the other, wondering if it would be me next? I was so scared, and it was to pass a stupid legislation?” Draco was almost screaming now. Severus briefly took a moment to silently thank Pomfrey for her sound-proof privacy screens.

“Draco!” Lucius's voice was stern as he stood up, looming over his son. Narcissa shot her husband a quelling look before gently cupping Draco's face.

“Whatever Mr Black told you is completely untrue, Draco. You were always completely safe–”

“So you knew about it? You approved of it?’

“– and we were so worried when news of your illness reached us, and we were so, so relieved when we heard you had woken up.”

"I read the interview Father gave the day I fell ill. You weren't worried at all about me, just worried about putting the right spin on the situation. You did not care that your own heir could have died–”

“Draco! Whatever the Black heir told you about the sickness, it was not harmful at all. Lord Riddle had everything under con–”

Draco scoffed. 

“Rigel's grandmother showed me her memories of what could have happened. The Rod of Zuriel is dangerous, Father. It has caused the downfall of empires and entire civilisations. Lord Riddle may think he has it under control but he was on the brink of enslaving all of us – which would have eaten through my mindscape and killed me! It would have killed me and you wouldn't have cared!”

Draco began to cry in earnest, face steadily reddening with emotion and loud shuddering sobs escaping his mouth and nose. It was very awkward and probably very uncomfortable for Draco, who Severus doubted cried very often. He decided to interject.

“Rigel's…grandmother?”

Draco wiped his eyes and nodded.

“She said she's Rigel's ancestor, and had to take over during our conversation because Rigel was too tired to revive me.”

“When…when did you have this conversation, Draco?”

The boy lay back and groaned in frustration. 

“In my mind! My mindscape. I don't know. I was just alone and trying not to think about how I was probably down with the sickness. Then Rigel Black suddenly appeared and told me if I wasn't revived soon it was likely that I would die. I didn't know if he was lying or not, but he showed me how to cleanse the black sludge from my mind. Only, it was way too difficult for only the two of us.”

Draco shuddered and wiped his nose.

“That was when Rigel told me that the whole thing was actually part of the SOW party's plan, that they wanted to bring down Dumbledore's reputation so they could pass a new legislation while Dumbledore's allies were divided. He even showed me his memories of people talking about the legislation and explained how the Wizengamot voting schedule neatly coincides with the end of the school year – so it would be a smart move to have Lord Riddle swoop in and 'cure' everyone at the end of the year.”

Draco picked at a loose thread on his blanket. 

“I didn't believe him. I tried throwing him out of my mind. I didn't think you would be that cruel to me, Father. But then I remembered your letter.”

Lucius looked stricken. His pale face had somehow grown even paler than Draco's.

“I was very angry with Rigel – I pushed him into the water and tried to make him drown. Then, suddenly his grandmother was there. Because he got too tired of fighting me off, she said she took over his mind. Then she showed me her memories of dealing with Zuriel. And we talked while she helped me clean up the corruption from my mindscape. We talked a lot. I was still angry. I refused to believe her. Then she showed me…”

Draco choked on a sob, and the tears began falling anew.

“What did she show you, Draco?” Narcissa's voice was calm, gentle. A mother's coaxing tone. Draco's eyes were hollow.

“l don't want to talk about it.” 

And that was all they could get from him.

"You're a woman.”

Rigel grinned.

“How'd you figure?”

“Draco said an old woman – apparently your grandmother – appeared in his mindscape once you were too exhausted to put up a mental illusion. Funnily enough, his description of the old woman's behaviour was remarkably similar to your own. Bellum has also called you Victoria on occasion, and addressed you with feminine honorifics in my presence. Considering you are mentally a supercentenarian, I presume your natural form in your mindscape is that of your much older self? ”

“Ah, Severus, I really cannot get anything past you, can I? Truly a credit to my amazing teachings. I'm proud to have you as my apprentice.” The boy – no, the girl paused.

“Although I must admit, the form that Draco saw was probably me in my 70s. I stopped keeping track of my appearance after that, so my self image is stuck there. Fairly certain, because I didn't have the chronic back pain that hit me when I turned 93.”

Severus rubbed his temples. So Rigel Black was a girl after all. He filed the information in his head for later and pressed further. 

“What did you show Draco that frightened him so?”

Rigel smiled mysteriously. 

“A glimpse of his future.” That sounded... ominous. Rigel shook her head at his inquiring expression.

“What you really wanted to know are the details of my grand plan, yes?” she shot him an indulgent smile as he scowled. Putting down the cauldron she had been scrubbing, she spread her arms and elegantly performed a seated bow. 

“Every student related to the SOW party in Hogwarts has now sworn a life debt to me in exchange for curing them of the sickness. Further, I've turned a good chunk of them against their parents. The rest were already wary of their parents to begin with so… it was a net win.”

Severus idly wondered if it was too late in life to be contemplating jumping out the nearest window. As usual, Rigel ignored his latest crisis and carried on without a care in the world.

“Of course, I sealed the information within their souls, so their parents are going to receive some very disgruntled children this summer with no explanation as to why they are so disgruntled. I think that's sufficient punishment for messing with my peaceful high school glory days. Honestly, I thought I wouldn't have to deal with the cows until the end of my second year! Truly disgraceful.”

She tutted, sounding very much like a crotchety old woman (she had been an old woman this entire time, thought Severus queasily) before picking up another dirty cauldron, scrubbing it with much viciousness and vigour. 

When Severus wearily entered his office a few nights later, he was disappointed but not entirely  surprised to find it already occupied by two unwanted guests. 

During a regular school year, Severus would be feeling what amounted to joy for him this close to the summer holidays. This year, he had resigned himself to that fact that he would only find peace in the grave, and even then he couldn't be fully certain that Rigel Black wouldn't dig him up to use his corpse for necromancy. 

Rigel had taken to occasionally breaking into his office to clean cauldrons because it was apparently ‘therapeutic’ – thus, it wasn't a surprise to find her elbow deep in dirty cauldrons.

The other unwanted guest was sitting in Severus’s chair and his presence was both expected and unwanted.

Severus let the door close behind him with a bang. Neither one of his intruders deigned to acknowledge him or the slamming door. In fact, their conversation was still going strong. 

"– At the very least, he did not reject them all outright. He read through my detailed lesson plans cover to cover, then he turned to me and said, 'I do not allow war-crimes to be included in the Hogwarts curriculum, Magnus.'"

Rigel leaned forward in her chair, dirty cauldrons forgotten. Severus coughed.

"But we aren't at war. You can't commit war crimes during peacetime. Surely Professor Dumbledore knows that." 

Perhaps a little louder? He tried coughing again. 

"I did tell Albus that, but alas. He has grown soft-hearted and soft-brained. I blame Gellert. Honestly, if those two had found a healthy outlet to deal with the angst of their breakup, there wouldn't have been a war to –”

Severus gave up and loudly cleared his throat. As one, Bellum and Rigel turned to regard him with eerily synchronised expressions of faux concern on their faces.

“Would you care for a cough drop, Severus?” Magnus Bellum reached into his filthy old coat and extracted an ancient tin from a hidden pocket. Someone had, presumably with the blunt edge of a knife, scratched K̷̪̥̇̌ȯ̷̪͙̺̇f̸̮̏̀f̴͓͑̆ ̷̟̙̣̀̕d̷̝̬͋͒̃ṟ̸͐̾o̴̤̰̗͝p̴̥͑š̶̼͘ into the faded, rusted cover of the tin. 

“Do refrain from giving my apprentice lead poisoning and a possible cocaine addiction from your vintage poisons, Bellum. He needs attention and love, not K̷̪̥̇̌ȯ̷̪͙̺̇f̸̮̏̀f̴͓͑̆ ̷̟̙̣̀̕d̷̝̬͋͒̃ṟ̸͐̾o̴̤̰̗͝p̴̥͑š̶͘.” 

“Now, now, if he takes my medicine then his cough truly will be the least of his problems. In fact, he will gain at least ten more problems that will be far more pressing than a mere cough. My beloved grand-apprentice will forget why he even began coughing in the first place." 

(Severus silently vowed never to cough in the presence of Magnus Bellum again)

“This is why you have no friends,” muttered Rigel under her breath.

Bellum very maturely threw the tin at Rigel's head, followed by a very terrifying sickly yellow nonverbal curse. Rigel did not even blink, wandlessly deflecting both back into his face. Bellum summoned a dirty cauldron to block it, which exploded the cauldron. With a jerk of his wand, the shattered cauldron vanished.

Severus decided that enough was enough. 

“Mr Bellum, I need to know why you are still in Britain and why you specifically are in my office at the moment. If you have no business with me, kindly leave.” 

“Rather disrespectful apprentice you have here, eh Victoria?”

“That's rich, coming from the most disrespectful man I've ever had the displeasure of meeting in my life. Keep in mind that I am 119 years old, Bellum. I have met and smacked the disrespect out of a lot of people. I can and will smack you.”

“Bold words coming from the little girl I bled and died for. No respect for your honoured Master. Not even an honorific! It's all Bellum this, Bellum that. What a disgrace!”

Severus was hit with the sudden jolt of realisation that Rigel only called Bellum ‘Master Bellum’ if the man in question was well out of earshot. It was… a little endearing to know that the girl secretly respected her mentor and yet refused to let him find out about it. 

“I am almost twice your age, young man!” 

“And whose fault is it that I died before reaching your age?” 

Rigel leaped forward to throw a right hook, ducking when Bellum stepped forward to catch the punch. She jumped nearly a foot in the air to avoid Bellum's graceful leg-sweep before dancing backwards to put some distance between her and her opponent. Somehow, there was now an unsheathed dagger in her left hand and her wand was drawn. 

“ENOUGH!” Severus roared. 

He was hit with a sense of deja vu as both of them turned to him in perfect synchronisation with identical expressions of amusement on their faces.

“My dear Severus, you had a bit of a weak stomach for fights, huh? I do apologise."

He most certainly did not, but he chose to ignore that insult in favour of addressing the elephant in the room once more.

“Black. Please explain to me why Magnus Bellum is currently standing in my office at this moment.”

“Well–”

“Forty words or less.”

“Allow me,” Bellum cut in, his mouth twitching in barely concealed amusement. He bowed to Severus. 

“I am the newly hired Defense instructor, and I just finished discussing my lesson plans with Albus. I will start this fall. I look forward to working with you, Severus. Oh, and I baked some cookies to honour our beautiful friendship.”

Severus stayed motionless as a crumpled paper bag that felt like it had been filled with rocks was pressed into his hands. Bellum smiled at him, eyes twinkling so madly he resembled Dumbledore for a split second.

“Forty words exactly. Impressive.” Rigel murmured, staring at her pocketwatch.

“Well then! I should get going.” Bellum patted Severus's cheek and ducked around his frozen body to open the door. When he had unfrozen enough to turn around, Bellum was still standing in the open doorway. He winked.

“I'll see you in September, Severus."

He then turned to Rigel with a truly evil grin on his face.

"And I shall see you around, Ms Potter.”