Severus: A Portrait of the Potions Master as a Young Man

Severus: A Portrait of the Potions Master as a Young Man

By Daphne Dunham

Chapter 10: Dumbledore's Warning

* * * * *

"Avada Kedavra!" Severus murmured lackadaisically as he aimed his wand. He watched as his victim, a renegade fly, tumbled lifelessly to the window ledge.

It was the most stifling summer the hook-nosed youth could remember - too hot to even sleep, and so he lay alone in his darkened bedroom listening to how the silence was cut by the buzzing of a few wayward insects and tormenting himself with unpleasant memories instead. Severus thought about the day his mother had been sentenced to Azkaban, about the night he'd first raised his wand to defend himself against Darius. He thought about the malevolence in James Potter's eyes as he'd pondered removing his underpants after their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., and he thought about Sirius Black and the night he'd sent him to the Whomping Willow.

At least some good would come of having been nearly killed by a werewolf, Severus decided as he raised his wand to another fly: surely the whole lot of the self-proclaimed Marauders would be expelled from Hogwarts for the potentially lethal prank. He was determined that all of them be expelled, of course, as the more he thought about that night, the more Severus became convinced that each of troublesome foursome must have had a hand in the hoax. Otherwise, how else would James Potter have known what Sirius Black had done? Better still, if Severus was lucky enough, he might even return to Hogwarts to find that Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew had not only been expelled but were imprisoned in Azkaban. After all, attempted murder was a serious crime that even the sage and patient Dumbledore could not overlook; the headmaster would have to expose the Gryffindors to the proper authorities.

Content with this knowledge, Severus made his way to Platform 9 ¾ that September to commence his final year at Hogwarts. As he settled into a seat between Jane Swizzle and Evan Rosier, he could scarcely help but smile at the idea that he would no longer have to worry about constantly being on guard against surprise hexes from James Potter, that he would no longer have to worry about Sirius Black staring after Jane, and that he would no longer have to worry about being publicly humiliated for the amusement of either of them. Best of all, the sallow youth could afford himself the pleasure of gloating for years to come about how he had finally managed to best James Haughty Potter. It was the closest sensation to happiness that Severus could recall feeling since the moment in his childhood when his mother had told him that they were leaving Darius.

Upon returning to Hogwarts, though, Severus quickly learned that he was, in fact, quite wrong: neither James Potter nor Sirius Black, Remus Lupin nor Peter Pettigrew had been expelled. In fact, it scarcely seemed to him that they had been punished at all. Indeed, the headmaster had determined that the prank, while foolish, had not been intended to result in Severus' death, and as a result, he had assigned Sirius Black numerous detentions as punishment rather than expel him. In addition, Professor McGonagall, whom time had dictated Severus could always rely upon for her fairness, had seen fit to deduct fifty points from Gryffindor. McGonagall's intervention might have been enough to pacify Severus if it wasn't for the fact that Dumbledore promptly saw fit to tip the scales once again by awarding James Potter sixty points for his valor in delivering Severus from the hoax that would have invariably led to Severus' gory and untimely demise.

Distressingly, though, this was not all Dumbledore did to reward James for preventing Severus' death in the Whomping Willow, as the hook-nosed young man discovered at the start-of-term feast in the Great Hall that evening.

"There was a huge row, and Sirius just left," Regulus Black was regaling the Slytherin table as he helped himself to some chipolatas. "When we found out he was staying with those dirty Mudblood-lovers the Potters, Mum was so furious she went and blasted his name off the family tree that very night, screaming about how he was a 'stain of dishonour' on the family. It was wicked!" The dark-haired aristocrat added the last bit with eyes wide and grin mischievous, just to indicate exactly how much pleasure he derived from his older brother's misfortune. "Snape, you should've been there," Regulus informed him, alluding to the overt animosity he knew Severus bore for Sirius.

Severus returned Regulus' knowing grin, of course, and added a chortle of twisted glee to think of Sirius Black disowned in such a vile fashion. "Completely cut off, is he?" he asked, his lips curling with malicious amusement. Perhaps justice did find a way of prevailing despite Dumbledore's propensity to avoid it.

"Completely," Regulus confirmed. "Mum swears that any family member who so much as talks to him will be disowned as well."

"As if any of us would want to talk to that prat to begin with," Bellatrix Black chimed in sarcastically from across the table.

"There's one of those filthy blood-traitors now," Evan Rosier said accusatorily with a nod in the direction of James Potter, who was making his way to a seat at the Gryffindor table across the hall.

There was something different about Potter, Severus immediately noticed. If possible, his step seemed even more arrogant than the previous year, and he was seating himself beside that disgusting Muggle-born Lily Evans. Contrary to the evidence of Lily's loathing for James presented during their previous years at school, she didn't seem to mind the spectacled Gryffindor's company this evening; in fact, she seemed quite pleased to see him.

But it wasn't just James Potter's cocky stride or the fact that Lily Evans blushed profusely when he smiled at her. There was something more... something about the way he looked - new spectacles, perhaps... or maybe a slightly different haircut. Upon closer examination, however, Severus determined that James didn't have new glasses and that his hair was still as tousled as it ever was. It was then that he saw it: there, pinned proudly to the breast of James Potter's robes was a shiny badge, a brilliantly colored one bearing elaborately embroidered lettering. "HB," it read.

Head Boy.

James Potter was Head Boy.

It wasn't fair - simply wasn't fair. At the same time, it was so much more than unfair; it was downright scandalous. James Potter hadn't even been a bloody prefect; his reputation for mischief had ruled out such an option long ago. He wasn't even an especially good student; he chose to expend his talents on childish pranks instead. Worse yet, James hadn't even proven himself particularly responsible; the number of detentions he had served over the years illustrated all too well his careless disregard for school rules. In fact, there was only one explanation Severus could think of to justify why the headmaster had elected to name James Head Boy: it was his reward, Severus supposed, for having saved his life last spring.

At this realisation, a heavy flush instantly suffused the normally pallid cheeks of Severus Snape. He sat, staring, his eyes narrowed to murderous slits as he beheld his enemy in complete disbelief. The simultaneous shock and horror that registered across his side of the Slytherin table corroborated his disgust.

"Would you believe it?!" hissed Rodolphus Lestrange, who had managed to tear his eyes away from Bellatrix long enough to behold James Potter's badge as he passed by. "That sodding wanker!"

* * *

While they may have loathed James Potter for his arrogance and the overt affection the headmaster bore him, Rodolphus and Regulus, Bellatrix and Evan did not know the exact details of Severus' near-fatal run in with Marauders the previous spring. Consequentially, they could not understand the depths to which Severus hated James Potter, to which the Gryffindor's appointment as Head Boy wounded him.

Jane, however, had been there that terrible night, and although she did not know that Remus Lupin was a werewolf, she had a good idea that Sirius Black's prank had somehow nearly resulted in Severus' death. Because she knew this, Severus turned to her for consolation the following afternoon as they sat by the lake, where, like numerous other students, they were taking advantage of the warmth of one of the last pleasant days of the season.

"I nearly die and Dumbledore rewards my would-be murderer! Potter only saved me to save his own neck, and this is how he is repaid - made bloody Head Boy!" Severus sputtered. "Is this what my life is worth - so little that my near-death doesn't even merit a suspension?!"

"Of course not, Severus," Jane tried to comfort. "Dumbledore must have had his reasons. Maybe James' appointment to Head Boy had nothing to do with what happened at the Willow."

Severus only smirked doubtfully, and Jane shrugged her shoulders. There was no use trying to convince him that perhaps Sirius Black and James Potter hadn't actually tried to kill him, that it might have been a genuine accident: Severus was too stubborn, and he had had too many disastrous encounters with the Marauders to believe the lot of them capable of anything short of the most heinous of deeds. In all honesty, Jane couldn't blame him for his anger, and she did not see fit to deprive him of it. Instead, she listened patiently and waited until his rage had run its course. Time had taught her that such was the best way to handle an impassioned Severus Snape.

"It probably would have been better if I'd died that night," Severus bitterly resolved in the end. Cruel as his words were, he was merely echoing the sentiment that Darius had expressed when he'd received Dumbledore's owl regarding the incident. As promised, the headmaster had been oblique in his explanation: without directly lying, he'd somehow managed to portray Severus' run-in with the Whomping Willow as an honest accident. Fortunately, Darius hadn't questioned the incident further but was content to ridicule and berate his son instead. "No one seems to care one way or another anyway," he added moodily.

"Severus, don't ever say that," Jane immediately scolded, her sympathy turned to sudden somberness. "If something had happened to you... I don't even want to think about that..." She paused, her voice trailing off in a sigh of distress. Then she added softly, "The truth is, the entire time you were at the Willow, all I could think was how badly I wanted to see you again - how I regretted that I'd never told you how I feel... that I never told you... that I... love you... that I've always loved you..."

Caught off guard, Severus turned to her sharply and raised his eyebrows skeptically, as though to question her. In all honesty, he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard that word spoken in reference to him. It had been his mother, he supposed, who had last told him she cared about him, and that had been ten years ago. Since then, he'd almost forgotten that terms of affection existed - let alone that they could be applied to him - and so he could scarcely conceal his doubt at Jane's revelation.

"You... love... me?" he stammered in disbelief.

Jane merely nodded as she slipped her hand into his. "The fact of the matter is, Severus, you're not the easiest person in the world to like," she replied with an amused smile. "You're sarcastic, elitist, and proud. You have no social skills whatsoever, and your hair is always in need of a good washing - and those are just some of your better qualities... But, despite it all, I love you."

Flabbergasted. That was the word that, years later, Severus Snape would apply to his state of mind when recalling his reaction to hearing her utter those words. But that was only half of it - what dumbfounded him even more was his reply. "I... I love you, too, Jane," he'd whispered, the words slipping from his lips without premeditation.

It was perfectly logical, after all, that he should love her: they'd grown up together, played together, gone to school together. But being in love with Jane Swizzle wasn't how Severus expected it to be. There was no need for trite confessions of adoration or passionate stolen moments. Instead, loving Jane was innate, something automatic to him, something he did without conscious effort - like breathing or the beating of his heart. It was, as Jane had said herself, as though he had always loved her. Perhaps such is why Severus hadn't noticed before that he indeed bore such feelings towards Jane, but now that he had been forced to confront them, he realised that they were completely and unmistakably true.

The admission of their mutual affections, however, was not quite enough to distract Severus from the scandal of James Potter's appointment to Head Boy - especially when said Head Boy promptly saw fit to make his presence in the scene abundantly clear.

"Having a romantic afternoon, Snivelly?" he mocked as he walked by.

Severus hardly needed to look up to match the voice with its speaker; he'd have recognised James Potter's condescending tenor anywhere. He turned his head nonetheless, though, to see the spectacled Gryffindor standing over him as he walked by with his usual cohorts. There was a smirk on his face, and his Head Boy badge glistened majestically in the sunlight - glistened a bit too much, actually, for Severus to ignore its presence on his robes.

"So what if I am? What are you going to do? Take points from Slytherin and Ravenclaw for it?" Severus hissed, rising to his feet defensively. He glared savagely at James, his eyes boring a veritable hole into that badge. "I see that this is the reward for attempted murder these days - being hailed a hero and made Head Boy. Maybe the next time you try to kill me, you'll be named the bloody Minister of Magic!"

"I didn't try to kill you, Snape," James retorted. "And last time I checked, you wouldn't be standing here right now if it wasn't for me."

"Don't flatter yourself," Severus spat. "I can defend myself."

James chuckled. "Of course you can, Snivelly," he scoffed sarcastically as he turned back to Peter Pettigrew, who was laughing hysterically at James' allusion to how the years had proven Severus anything but capable of defending himself. After all, the hook-nosed boy had failed to defend himself the morning of Quidditch trials in their second year; he'd failed the afternoon of their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.; and he'd failed just a few months ago in the Willow as well. Severus' suggestion to the contrary seemed rather like a joke to them.

The irony hadn't escaped Severus, either. Their cruel laughter rang in his ears as he watched them walk away and continue down the banks of the lake. He felt a scarlet heat flood his face, coursing through his body as they mocked him. Once again, Potter had managed to scorn him - had done so in public, no less - had done so before their classmates, before the impressionable younger students... before Jane. The humiliation seemed too much to bear, and so Severus squared back his shoulders indignantly and raised his wand, aiming directly for James' back.

"Locomotor Mortis!" he cried.

In an instant, James' knees locked mid-stride, and with a groan, he tumbled to the ground, his face smashing hard into the grass, cracking his glasses and lower lip. Stunned as he tried to make sense of what had happened to him, James attempted to hoist himself back to his feet. Quickly realising the futility of his efforts, however, he managed only to roll over onto his back.

"You'll pay for that!" James barked as his eyes locked with those of his attacker. He hurriedly reached into the confines of his robes, searching for his wand, but Severus was already thinking ahead.

"Expelliarmus!" the hook-nosed young man shrieked, and James Potter's wand promptly flew from his grasp and across the green.

The following moments passed by in a surreal haze of wrath for Severus. He remembered there were gasps of horrified astonishment from the bystanders who had gathered to watch. He faintly recalled Sirius Black's attempts to defend James and how he had countered each hex with a timely Shield Charm, and Severus dimly recollected Jane leaping to her feet and trying to stop him.

"Severus, no!" she pleaded, tugging on his arm in attempt to alter his aim. "This won't help anything!"

But mostly, Severus remembered the fear in Potter's eye as he wielded his wand menacingly at him and cursed him between streams of profanity.

"Contunderus!" Severus shrieked time and again.

It wasn't an Unforgivable. In fact, it was a curse his father had used against him numerous times in punishment when he was younger, and it was precisely because Severus knew so well the bruising, blurring pain of this curse that he derived such perverse pleasure from watching the way James Potter's face contorted in agony as the spell swept over his body.

"No more..." the latter gasped. "Please!"

There was a foreign life, an alien energy which consumed Severus, though, and although something within told him he should probably cease his torture of James Potter, he found himself unable to do so. It was only when the spectacled boy was spitting blood that Severus lowered his wand. He looked from the crumpled, bruised form of his enemy to his own hands - the hands which had produced this pain - as though with a stranger's eyes, as though it was just now occurring to him what he had done. Trembling, Severus collapsed to his knees, disarmed by his own self-loathing. It was then that Sirius Black finally managed to hex him.

"Stupefy!" the dark-haired aristocrat called.

Professor McGonagall racing across the lawn towards them was the last thing Severus saw before he hit the ground.

* * *

"I think I'm turning into my father," Severus whispered that evening in the hospital wing. He had regained consciousness to find Jane seated beside him, holding his hand. She hadn't said anything at first, only stared at him imploringly, her wide, rich eyes silently probing him, searching for an answer, an explanation for his violent behavior by the lake.

"You know that's not true, Severus," she replied softly. "You could never be him. You've seen what he's done, you're smarter than to repeat his mistakes. You're better than that."

Severus hesitated, unconvinced by her reassurance, unconvinced because he alone knew the exact strength of the hatred that had consumed him as he'd raised his wand to James Potter. "I could have killed him, Jane," he explained. He paused uneasily then and avoided her gaze. He couldn't bear to witness the horror that he knew would undoubtedly register on her face at his following confession. "I wanted to kill him, too," he told her, his voice barely audible.

But Jane only squeezed his hand tighter. "You didn't kill him, though, Severus," she soothed. "You stopped. You were angry, but you still knew enough to stop. That's what matters."

He nodded and tried to believe her, but when Madam Pomfrey shooed Jane away moments later in order to examine Severus, he remained apprehensive. Not even the Draught of Peace the nurse made him consume could entirely ease away his torment. Fortunately, as she scuttled away again - presumably to attend to Potter, whom Severus knew must have been just beds away from him - the pallid boy was distracted by a pair of voices reverberating from the far end of the hospital wing.

"It was my own fault, Minerva. If I hadn't named James Head Boy, this never would have happened. The boy was bound to be distraught - anyone would have been in his position, after all. Severus and James have never gotten along, and I fear that I have made the situation between them worse."

"It doesn't excuse what he has done, though, Albus. Nor is Potter excused for what he has done to him over the years, of course. I fear for the both of them - two of the most talented students here. Merlin only knows what they're capable of doing to one another."

The headmaster and deputy headmistress may have been trying to speak in hushed tones, but in ominous silence of the infirmary, their voices carried well, and Severus scarcely needed to try to distinguish their words.

"At least James will be all right. Poppy has already administered a Clotting Solution to stop the internal bleeding. Please send an owl home to his parents while I check on Severus."

"And Mr. Snape? Shall I send an owl to him as well?"

Dumbledore paused thoughtfully. "Not yet. The less Darius Snape knows, the better," he replied. "I fear what he might do to Severus as punishment - the two are not unalike in their dispositions, as you may recall. I'll speak to Severus myself."

"Of course, Albus," was the reply.

There was a silence then, and Severus supposed that Professor McGonagall must have left the hospital wing. Moments later, the curtain surrounding his bed was pulled back, and the headmaster's soft, shimmering eyes peered at him over his half-moon spectacles. "You've woken up, I see," he said. His tone was surprisingly gentle, and there was an odd hint of sympathy in his eye.

Not even this sympathy, though, could soften Severus. Bitterly, he crossed his arms about his chest in what he hoped appeared a resentful fashion and avoided the headmaster's gaze. Dumbledore let out a tired sigh as he seated himself in a chair beside the bed upon which the pallid young man rested, the same chair Jane had sat in not long ago.

"I'm not going to lecture you, Severus," he said quietly.

A fire burned behind Severus' eyes at the idea that the headmaster - the man whose very leniency had precipitated the events of the afternoon - should presume to moralize at him. It's a good thing - I don't care much for what you have to say, he thought. The headmaster nodded his head as though he understood Severus' unspoken animosity, and for a fleeting instant, the younger wizard had the faint impression that Dumbledore had peered into the confines of his mind with Legilimency. This suspicion was confirmed with the headmaster's next words.

"I don't blame you for your anger, Severus," the white-haired wizard told him. "You must be feeling very betrayed by me for making James Head Boy after what happened to you last year."

"What would you know about what I'm feeling?" Severus grumbled under his breath.

Gracefully, Dumbledore ignored his comment. The young man had a point, after all. "Unfortunately, it's too late for me to apologise to you for my role in what has happened," he continued. "I cannot undo the past and stop what happened to you at the Willow, and I cannot unmake my decision regarding Head Boy."

The headmaster paused then and peered at Severus intently. "I must, however, urge you to control your anger," he informed the younger wizard earnestly. "I fear that unless you are careful with your emotions, Severus, you will find yourself vulnerable to performing deeper, darker deeds than what occurred this afternoon by the lake. You could hurt yourself or others... you may even find yourself vulnerable to those who would prey on your frustration and exploit it for their own benefit."

Although he would eventually understand the wisdom in the headmaster's words, Severus didn't fully understand Dumbledore's warning at the time. Instead, he turned increasingly sour. Despite the headmaster's initial pledge not to reprimand, this sounded rather like a lecture to him, a lecture he was loath to tolerate.

"Potter and his friends tried to kill me!" Severus reminded the headmaster testily. "How else was I to react?!"

The headmaster nodded in what Severus could not tell was understanding or condescension. "James Potter may be many things you are not fond of, Severus, but he is not a murderer, and contrary to the frustration you felt this afternoon when he ridiculed you, you are not a murderer either."

Severus looked up at the headmaster sharply. Once again, it was as though Dumbledore had known his thoughts, his feelings - that he had been completely and undeniably out of control by the lake and that he was quite convinced he could have done James Potter lethal harm. His horror intensified, though, as the headmaster continued to speak.

"The fact of the matter is that whether you like it or not, Severus, when two wizards are forced together because of dire circumstances - most commonly the pain of death - a powerful connection is usually formed between them," Dumbledore said. "The night James Potter pulled you from the Willow, such a magical bond was forged between the two of you. Your fates are, I'm afraid, entwined."

Severus paled and hesitated as the headmaster raised his eyebrows and gave Severus a meaningful gaze. "You mean to say... that I... I owe Potter a life debt?" he stammered. His voice emerged strangled and unfamiliar, as though he was choking or gagging on his own words.

Much to Severus' instantaneous dread, the headmaster raised his eyebrows and nodded in solemn confirmation. Severus flushed furiously, feeling suddenly as though he would rather have died than live indebted to his enemy. His mind flooded with questions, desperate, aching uncertainties regarding the forging of this obligation, the terms of its satisfaction, and the consequences of not fulfilling it. He gaped at Dumbledore, begging for the answers. There was a pleading in his ebony eyes as though silently beseeching the headmaster to make it not true, to abolish the debt. Such relief was, of course, something that even the sagest of wizards did not have the power to do, and so, as abruptly as the headmaster had informed Severus of his debt to James Potter, Dumbledore made to leave the young wizard to ponder of the meaning of this bond.

"Remember what I said about controlling your anger, Severus." Dumbledore said as he rose from the chair beside Severus' bed. "Remember my warning." As Albus Dumbledore left the hospital wing, though, he had a distinct suspicion that his advice to Severus had come years too late.

It was only after the headmaster had gone that Severus saw the book he had left behind. Sitting on the stand by the boy's bed, it was an elderly volume, leather bound with yellowed pages and a careworn spine. A Beginner's Guide to Occlumency, the faded gold lettering on the cover read. He had only a vague notion of what Occlumency was, of how it was a defense against Legilimency, and so curiosity, compounded with a general reverence for the written word, drove Severus to take the book in his hands, to skim through it. From the first few lines of the text, the meaning behind the headmaster's gift was immediately apparent:

Although virtually unpractised today, Occlumency is an ancient and useful branch of magic that relies on extreme control of emotion and memory. So great is the calming effect of Occlumency that not only is it useful against the invasion of a Legilimens, but it has also been widely prescribed in treatment of psychological ailments.

The headmaster intended for Severus to use Occlumency as a means of managing his apparently unruly emotions - emotions similar to those that caused his outburst today by the lake. At this realisation, a furious flush flooded the young man's face. Blood burning with humiliation and resentment, he tossed the book aside.

* * *

Life debt or not, Occlumency or not, boys will be boys, and Dumbledore's warning effectively went unheeded. Indeed, James Potter and Severus Snape resumed their habit of cursing each other with renewed vehemence for the rest of the school year. James had done so out of retaliation, and Severus had done so out of spite. Regardless their reasons, though, it quickly became evident that that afternoon by the lake was merely the precursor to the incessant hexing that would mark their final year at Hogwarts. This cursing recommenced with the Jelly-Legs Jinx which James had thrown in Severus' direction a few days later in the corridor before Defense Against the Dark Arts. While leaving Ancient Runes that afternoon, the hook-nosed boy had retaliated with a slug curse. There were Babbling Curses and Insect Jinxes, Bat-Bogey Hexes and Trip Jinxes to follow, each one cast surreptitiously so as to avoid being caught.

Whether or not the headmaster knew how Severus had disregarded his advice, the pallid young man did not know. He did, however, suspect that the Potions Master was suspicious of the Conjunctivitis Curse he had cast on James during class one particular afternoon. The tousled-haired Gryffindor's eyes had become so irritated that he hadn't been able to see the hellebore stalks he was slicing and nearly severed a finger or two from his hand instead before being sent to Madam Pomfrey. After class, Professor Cauderon summoned Severus to his office.

"Mr. Snape, a word, please," he informed the younger wizard tersely.

Severus had held his chin high in preparation to defend himself from accusation as he made his way through the entrails of the castle to Professor Cauderon's office later that afternoon. He was not surprised to find the Potions Master sitting at his desk, poring over some papers. What did surprise him, however, was the way the older wizard beheld him when he entered, an odd smile playing at the corners of his white goatee. Surely, the professor had not called him here to lecture or punish him.

"Have a seat, Severus," he said to the pallid young man before him, Summoning a chair from across the room. "Have you given much thought to your future, Mr. Snape?" he asked as Severus slid into the surprisingly comfortable seat.

"I expect my father will want me to work at the Ministry," he told him, relieved not to be facing an interrogation regarding the sorry state of James Potter's eyes. "Snapes always work at the Ministry. I'm not sure what department yet, but I'm well qualified for a number of positions - assuming I pass N.E.W.T.s, that is."

Professor Cauderon nodded pensively. "Undoubtedly you will excel in your N.E.W.T.s," he said quietly. He sighed then and, folding his hands in his lap, looked down his narrow nose at his student. "But what do you want to do?" he asked meaningfully.

Severus hesitated and frowned, his dark eyes darting nervously across the room as though checking for a sign of Darius before making his confession. "Research," he mumbled at last. "Potions research. I just want to study and experiment. But that's not prestigious enough a profession for a Snape. My father would never permit it."

Bicarius Cauderon raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?" he asked. "Perhaps I shall have to change his mind then."

"You don't know my father," Severus scoffed, a darkness sifting through his ebony eyes at the mention of Darius Snape.

"This is true," the Potions Master admitted. "However, I do know Arsenius Jigger." He examined carefully the sallow face of the young man before him, watching his reaction for a sign of recognition at the mention of the name. He was not, he quickly discovered, disappointed.

"The most influential Potions Master of our era," Severus murmured, eyes wide. "He's brilliant - absolutely bloody brilliant."

The professor nodded. "He is," he agreed. "And Master Jigger also happens to be an old school chum of mine. The other day, I received this from him," Professor Cauderon added, indicating the topmost piece of parchment on the stack atop his desk. "It's a letter informing me that he has been awarded a contract to write a potions book and that he is in great need of a research assistant if there is someone I can recommend to him. The job he proposes is not one of glamour. It will require some tedious work, but I believe it will indulge your natural curiosity for potions. And I think it goes without saying that association with one of the greatest wizards of the age is scarcely a situation your father would disapprove of."

Severus faltered, positively reeling at Professor Cauderon's words. Working with Arsenius Jigger was an honour he could scarcely fathom, and to say he was flattered by the suggestion was a gross understatement. "You... you're recommending me?" he whispered in disbelief. "Not James Potter? Not Ankur Patil? Not Jane Swizzle?"

A mischievous twinkle flickered in the Potions Master's eyes. "Between you and me, Severus, I'd as soon recommend a hippogriff to Arsenius Jigger as I would James Potter," he chuckled. "And I believe that you know as well as I do that Miss Swizzle has her heart set on St. Mungo's. You should, however, be forewarned that the pay is not exorbitant. Nonetheless, it should be enough should you decide to move out on your own... or even ask a certain young lady for her hand in marriage."

Professor Cauderon added the last bit under his breath, and Severus flushed when he realised the implication behind his professor's words: he was suggesting that Severus propose to Jane - a positively ridiculous notion, considering that Severus Snape had just been offered the opportunity to study under the greatest Potions Master of the age. Too overwhelmed with the enormity of Cauderon's proposition, though, Severus neglected to acknowledge the comment. Instead, his mind raced with the possibilities. At last he had been awarded an honour that James Potter had been denied. He would be able to continue his studies and to mingle with greatness. Most importantly, however, he had earned this achievement on his own, proven himself via the merit of his own talents rather than Darius Snape and his Ministry alliances.

"Are we in agreement, then, that you accept the position?" Professor Cauderon asked, although the uncharacteristic brightness in the young wizard's eyes had already told him his answer.

A nod was all the speechless Severus could manage.

"Excellent, Mr. Snape," the Potions Master replied with a smile. "I cannot think of a more worthy candidate."

* * * * *

A/N: Continued thanks to Ozma for her extreme patience and excellent guidance in beta-reading.

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