Severus sat at the small desk in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. A faint bubbling sound came from the cauldron at the corner of the room, the slow rise and fall of the liquid inside giving off a sharp and pungent scent. He wasn't paying much attention to it. He had already adjusted the heat and timing perfectly.
His eyes flicked over the pages of the open book in front of him, but his mind kept drifting toward the wards. His lips curled slightly at the memory of the alarms going off earlier that day. More than a few people had tried to get into his room while he was at work. It was hardly a surprise. The Daily Prophet had stirred up far too much attention with its exaggerated report about his magic.
The wards had held perfectly, of course. They weren't the most complex or powerful wards he could have used, but they were strong enough to handle anything short of a full-blown assault. And whoever had tried to break in wasn't exactly subtle. They had thrown a lot of magic at the wards — enough that the backlash would have left them with a splitting headache and twitching body, at the very least. A part of him wondered if anyone had been foolish enough to try more than once.
He had honestly expected this. After the article, people had started looking at him differently. Not just his fellow healers at St. Mungo's, but the larger wizarding world as well. Whispers had already begun. Pureblood families were talking. Even the Ministry had started watching him more closely.
Severus leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. He had nothing worth stealing in this room. Certainly not grimoires or any kind of dark magical texts. The idea of grimoires was laughable to him. The notion that pureblood families had secret books filled with hundreds of ancient, dangerous spells was absurd.
It wasn't that family magic didn't exist — he had encountered it before — but the idea of some massive book containing thousands of deadly spells that could topple the wizarding world was nonsense. Magic was too unstable, too personal, for something like that to be organized and passed down in a neat little book. Most of the so-called "family spells" were likely modified versions of existing magic, tweaked and shaped over generations. Certainly not some mythical lost knowledge.
And yet, people were desperate to believe otherwise. The fact that Severus had used magic that nobody could identify only made things worse. The whispers about necromancy, family magic, and forbidden spells had started almost immediately after the first task. Healing Fleur had only added fuel to the fire.
Severus closed the book in front of him and picked up another. His gaze flicked toward the cauldron as it let out a quiet hiss of steam. He stood and walked toward it, peering down at the bubbling surface. It had thickened nicely — just a few more minutes and it would be ready. He gave it a slow stir before returning to his seat.
His thoughts drifted toward the magic of this world. It was… different. Stronger, somehow. He could feel it pressing against him constantly, like a quiet hum beneath his skin. He had sensed it almost immediately after arriving here. His magic had begun shifting, adjusting, almost as though it were absorbing something from this world. His spells were sharper, more efficient. His reserves felt deeper.
He suspected that rituals would work differently here. Under Voldemort's command, he had learned a great deal about rituals — more than most Death Eaters. The Dark Lord had been obsessed with them. He had performed more than a few dark rituals on himself over the years, strengthening his magic, twisting his soul. Severus had studied those rituals carefully, memorizing the runes and incantations.
He wondered how those same rituals might behave in this world.
Knockturn Alley would likely have answers. If nothing else, it would have access to the kind of dark texts that might help him adjust to this new magical landscape. The problem wasn't finding the knowledge — it was securing a place to work. Performing rituals required privacy. Strong wards. Absolute focus. He wasn't going to risk drawing attention to himself by setting up something unstable in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron. He would need to find a better location.
He picked up the next book and opened it, running his fingers over the dry, worn pages. His lips pressed into a thin line. This was a basic potions guide — beneath his skill level — but he had been working through these kinds of books steadily. It was important to understand the foundational differences in this world's magic before attempting anything complex. There were subtle variations in ingredient properties, wand movements, even the way magical energy flowed through a spell.
He had already started making adjustments. His healing spells were more efficient now. His potions brewed faster and with greater potency. He was beginning to feel like he had a better grasp of this world's magic — but he was still far from mastering it.
A quiet knock at the door broke his concentration. Severus's head lifted sharply. He closed the book, rising from his chair in one smooth motion. He flicked his wand toward the door, dropping the wards momentarily.
The door creaked open. Tom, the bartender, stood in the doorway.
"News for you, lad," Tom said with a tired look. It was like he was exhausted by now.
Severus crossed the room and took it without a word. Tom hesitated, then gave him an odd look. "Had some more folks snooping around earlier," he said. "Tried to book the room next to yours. Told them it was full."
Severus's gaze darkened slightly. "Did you recognize them?"
Tom shook his head. "Never seen them before. But they were dressed well. Looked like Ministry types."
Severus's mouth curled slightly. "Of course they were."
Tom hesitated a moment longer, then gave a short nod and left, closing the door behind him.
Severus turned to his books as his attention went to the old pages which held general information about the spells.
_________________________________________
Fleur sat cross-legged on the hospital bed, her eyes sharp and focused as Severus explained about Gillyweed.
Severus stood near the window, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes were calm as he spoke continuously like a teacher. "Gillyweed is a magical plant," he said in a low voice. "When eaten, it allows a human to breathe underwater by giving them gills."
Fleur's blue eyes widened. "Gills?"
Severus gave a short nod. "Yes. It's said to resemble a bundle of slimy, grey-green rat tails. Not the most appealing thing to eat." His lips curled slightly at the corner. "But once consumed, it gives the user gills, webbing between the fingers and toes, and removes the need for blinking while underwater."
Fleur's nose wrinkled. "Zat soundz… 'ow do you zay? Dizguzzting."
She turned her attention back to Severus. "But eet workz?"
Severus inclined his head. "It works. It allows you to breathe underwater for well over an hour. More than enough time to retrieve whatever the merpeople are hiding."
Fleur's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Zo… ziz Gillyweed… eet iz eazy to find?"
Severus shook his head. "Not particularly. It's native to the Mediterranean Sea. You could probably find some in an apothecary, but it's not exactly common."
Fleur's brow furrowed as she considered that. "And… what 'appenz if I run out of time?"
"You'd drown," Severus said bluntly.
Fleur's eyes widened slightly.
"Severuz!" Fleur snapped. "Don't juzzt zay ziz like zat!"
"I'm simply being realistic," Severus replied, his tone even. "Magic has its limits. If you run out of time, you'll need to have an escape plan. Gillyweed gives you an hour at most. You'd have to work quickly."
Fleur frowned. "And… if eet doezn' work?"
Severus's gaze darkened slightly as he looked at the Beauxbatons champion. "Then you'll need a backup plan."
Severus's eyes flicked toward her. "If Gillyweed is too difficult to find, there are other options."
Fleur raised an eyebrow. "Oui?"
"Self-transfiguration," Severus said. "If you're proficient in Transfiguration, you could alter parts of your body to better survive underwater. For example, you could transfigure yourself to have gills, webbed fingers, or even scales for improved swimming."
Fleur's expression turned guarded. "I am not zat… good at Tranzfiguration," she admitted. "Madame Maxime 'as tried to teach me, but eet eez not my strongest subject."
Severus inclined his head thoughtfully. "It's a difficult branch of magic," he admitted. "And transfiguring yourself carries risks. If you make a mistake…"
Severus's gaze roamed over her as he gave her another hint. "There is a potion," he said. "But it's difficult to brew. And it wouldn't give you the same advantages as Gillyweed. You'd be able to breathe underwater, but you wouldn't have the speed or agility that webbed hands and feet would provide."
Fleur's brows knit together. "Zo… you are zaying zat Gillyweed eez ze bezt option?"
Severus nodded once. "If I were you, that's what I would choose. It's straightforward. No risk of a miscast spell or potion error."
Fleur was quiet for a moment. Her long, slender fingers traced the edge of the golden egg. "And… if eet doez not work?"
Severus's gaze didn't waver. "Then you adapt."
Fleur's lips pressed together. "Eet eez not zat simple."
"Nothing ever is," Severus replied quietly.
"You are… Odd," Fleur said suddenly, tilting her head.
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"
"Oui," Fleur nodded slowly. "You 'andle ze Veela allure very well."
Severus's brow furrowed slightly. "I suppose I'm just… good at ignoring it," he said evenly.
Fleur's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him with renewed interest. "Non. Zat eez not normal."
Severus's gaze sharpened. "Should it be?"
Fleur leaned forward slightly, her eyes still focused on him. "Mozt men… zey cannot 'andle it. Even women zometimez 'ave trouble, but men… it drives zem mad. Even strong wizardzz."
Severus's lips twitched. "And yet, I seem to be immune."
"Exactly," Fleur said, her eyes flashing with interest. "Zat's why it eez so strange."
Severus shrugged. "Perhaps I'm more focused than most."
Fleur shook her head, her silver hair sliding over her shoulder. "Non. It eez more zan focus. Zere are spells — protection spells — zat can 'elp wizardz rezizt Veela allure."
Severus's gaze sharpened. "Spells?"
"Oui," Fleur nodded. "Zey are commonly uzed. Senior Healer, Grant… he cast ze spell on everyone when zey arrived, so zey would not be… diztracted."
Severus's brow furrowed. "I wasn't aware of that."
"Zat's because 'e didn't cast eet on you," Fleur said, her lips curving into a small, amused smile. "Grant wanted to… 'ow do you zay… play a prank?"
Severus's eyes darkened. "A prank?"
"Oui," Fleur's eyes glittered with amusement. "Grant wanted to zee 'ow you would react to the veelaz allure when you met my family. 'E thought eet would be funny."
Severus's lips pressed into a thin line. "Charming."
"But," Fleur's gaze sharpened, "you were not affected at all."
Severus's expression didn't change. "Apparently not."
Fleur's smile widened. "Even my muzzer was impressed."
Severus's lips twitched. "I'm honoured to have impressed Mrs. Delacour."
Fleur's smile faded as she gave him a mildly annoyed look. "Do not lauzh."
Severus's expression softened. "I wasn't."
Fleur's gaze lingered on him for a moment before she sat back, crossing her arms. "Eet is rare," she said thoughtfully. "Mozt men… zey are not like you."
"Perhaps they lack self-control," Severus said coolly.
Fleur tilted her head. "Or maybe… you are juzt ztronger."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Stronger?"
"Oui," Fleur's eyes were steady. "I 'ave felt your mageeq."
Severus's gaze darkened slightly as his attention went to Miss Delacour. "When?"
Fleur hesitated for a moment. "When you zaved me," she said softly. "I felt your mageeq…."
Severus's brow furrowed. "That would be the spell's effect," he said quietly. "Magic that directly affects the blood or body tends to leave traces."
Fleur shook her head. "Non… eet waz more zan zat."
Severus's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"
Fleur's eyes drifted toward the window as she seemed to recall the memory. "When I woke up… I could still feel eet. Eet was… cold. Like izz in my veinzz." She shivered slightly. "Not unplzant… cold."
A comfortable silence settled between them. Fleur's gaze drifted toward the golden egg on the table. After a moment, she sighed softly.
"Zere is a Yule Ball," she said suddenly.
Severus's gaze flicked toward her. "I'm aware."
"It eez in four weeks," Fleur said, her eyes focused on the egg.
Severus nodded. It was the tradition for the Triwizard Tournament. "You'll be released from St. Mungo's in twelve days. That gives you two weeks to prepare."
Fleur's gaze sharpened slightly. "You very zuure of zat."
Severus's eyes remained steady on her though. He suddenly asked aloud. "Why mention the Yule Ball?"
Fleur's gaze lingered on the egg for a moment longer before she looked back at him. "I was just… thinking."
"About?"
Fleur's lips twitched. "If I 'ave to go alone."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure there's no shortage of offers."
Fleur's smile faded slightly. "Oui… but most of zem… zey go deezy."
Her expression turned thoughtful. "Most wizards… zey are drawn to ze Veela allure. Zey do not zee… me."
Severus nodded. He could understand that. People didn't see her. They saw the extremely beautiful and radiant girl with an allure.
Still, it wasn't his problem. Not when there were spells to combat allure in this world, unlike his own.
_______________________________________
Severus sat on the worn wooden chair in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, his dark eyes fixed on the cauldron bubbling softly in front of him. The faint glow from the flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the peeling wallpaper, making the room feel smaller than it already was. The potion had reached its final stage — a soft golden sheen rippling across the surface as it settled. It was ready. Finally.
He leaned back slightly, watching the steam curl lazily upward. His hands rested on his knees, fingers drumming lightly against the rough fabric of his trousers. The room smelled faintly of herbs and burnt sugar — a sign that the delicate balance of the ingredients had been perfectly maintained.
The lineage potion.
Severus's eyes narrowed as he stared at it. He had been preparing this potion for the past week, carefully measuring each ingredient, allowing it to settle at the right temperature. There had been no room for error. This wasn't the lesser variant — the one that only showed the immediate generation. No, this was the full version. Twenty nine generations of ancestry would be laid bare before him.
He had considered brewing it earlier — after all, knowing his true identity in this world was not only useful but necessary. But he had hesitated. He had told himself that it didn't matter. That he could make his own way here without knowing the details of the past. But that had been a lie. Of course it mattered. He had to know the identity of the person whose body he was inhabiting. He had to know and close the loose ends, afterall.
He reached for the silver knife on the table. His hand was steady as he pressed the edge of the blade against his palm and sliced a thin, clean line across the skin. Blood welled up instantly — dark crimson drops pooling in the hollow of his palm.
He held his hand over the cauldron and let the drops fall into the golden liquid.
The potion hissed softly as the blood mixed with it. Thin tendrils of smoke curled into the air as the golden surface turned a deep, rich shade of scarlet. Severus healed the cut with a quick flick of his wand, watching as the potion settled once more.
He picked up a blank sheet of parchment — large enough to accommodate a family tree spanning eighteen generations — and laid it flat on the table. Taking a small ladle, he carefully scooped out some of the potion and poured it over the parchment.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then after some moments, something strange happened.
Ink-like lines began to spread across the parchment, weaving and curling like veins beneath the surface of the skin. Names began to appear — handwritten in elegant, flowing script. The first name sat at the very top of the page. A pair of lines branched downward from it, connecting to another set of names. More lines followed, branching further and further downward as more names filled the page.
Severus's eyes darkened as he traced the lines with his gaze. Names he recognised. Names he didn't. Marriages. Children. Generations upon generations laid bare before him, the web of ancestry stretching back through centuries.
His hand tightened on the edge of the table as he studied the names at the top of the tree. His breath hitched. His jaw clenched.
This… this was unexpected.
He leaned back in the chair, his eyes narrowing. He studied the top names again, his mind working quickly through the implications. Connections formed rapidly in his mind — the significance of certain names, the alignment of certain surnames. He understood now why his magic had felt so potent. Why he had adapted so quickly to the magical balance of this world.
"Interesting," he murmured softly. His lips curled slightly. "Very interesting."
He sat there for a long moment, absorbing the implications. His gaze shifted back down the parchment, following the branches and names — recognising connections he hadn't noticed before. A quiet satisfaction settled in his chest.
He shouldn't have been surprised. It made sense, now that he was looking at it. The strength of his magic. The depth of his instinct. The affinity for certain spells. It was all tied to this. His blood. His legacy.
Severus folded the parchment carefully, his movements precise. He tucked it into the inner pocket of his robe. His expression remained calm, composed — but his mind was racing beneath the surface. This changed things.
This really changed things.