The Silverthorne Manor potions laboratory was nothing like the dungeons of Hogwarts.
Where Snape's classroom was shadowed and cool, the Silverthorne chamber glowed with soft starlight woven directly into the stone walls. Silver-lined shelves held meticulously labeled jars. Bowls of freshly harvested herbs sat beside gleaming mortars. And above the main worktable, a suspended orb of moonlight brightened or dimmed depending on the brewer's needs.
Snape did not like how pleasant it all was.
It was... disarming.
Mavis stood at the center of the room, her auburn hair pulled back into a soft braid, sleeves rolled up, and a tiny apron tied around her waist. Veridia perched on her shoulder, scales shimmering like pearled silver-blue. Erevan was curled in a circle on the table, his tail flicking rhythmically, amber eyes half-lidded.
Snape eyed the dragons grimly. "The two of you are here to observe. Nothing more."
Erevan blinked innocently.
Veridia chirped.
Snape did not trust either sound.
Mavis clasped her hands behind her back and gave him a wide, earnest smile. "I'm ready!"
"Very well," he said, and suppressed the instinct to pace. "We will begin with something simple. A Calming Draft."
Her eyes lit up. "That helps when someone is scared or upset, right?"
"Yes," Snape said, surprised by her quick recall. "It eases anxiety and regulates emotional magic."
"So... like a hug potion?"
Snape's lips twitched. "Not how I would phrase it, but the concept is not entirely inaccurate."
Mavis grinned proudly and bounced on the balls of her feet.
He pointed to the workstation. "Step one: prepare your ingredients. Lavender sprigs, moondrop petals, three slices of dried asphodel root, and one measure of powdered starlight salt."
Her brows furrowed seriously — Lily's look of concentration so perfectly mirrored that Snape's throat tightened.
She selected each ingredient carefully, humming under her breath.
Veridia leaned over her shoulder like a helpful professor.
Erevan snaked around the moondrop petals, sniffing them with mild disdain.
Snape cleared his throat sharply. "I said observe."
Erevan froze mid-sniff.
Veridia gave chittering, apologetic noises that somehow sounded rehearsed.
Mavis patted them both. "It's okay. They like to help."
"Yes," Snape drawled. "I am acutely aware."
He watched her slice the asphodel — careful, precise, small strokes. Better technique than most first-years.
"That is adequate," he said quietly. "Next: prepare the cauldron."
Mavis picked up the silver stirring rod but paused. "Master Snape? Can I ask something?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you use copper cauldrons? Aren't they lighter?"
Snape blinked. "Copper reacts poorly with moondrop petals and several stabilizing agents. It increases the chance of corrosion. Pewter is safer."
Mavis nodded seriously. "That makes sense."
Veridia chirped like she was taking mental notes. Erevan yawned dramatically.
Snape fought the urge to rub his eyes.
"Light the flame," he instructed.
Mavis flicked her training wand. "Lumos Incendio."
A small, steady flame burst to life beneath the cauldron.
Snape gave a slow nod. "Good."
Mavis's entire face lit with pride.
She added water, waited for the soft simmer, and then gently added the lavender sprigs. The steam that rose smelled sweet and warm — a soothing scent that made the entire room breathe easier.
"Now stir counterclockwise four times," Snape said.
Mavis stirred, counting softly under her breath.
Erevan rose, watching the potion with the intentness of a scholar studying ancient runes. His tail flicked with every swirl.
Then came the asphodel.
"Slowly," Snape warned.
She dropped the slices in one by one.
The potion turned a pale, glowing blue.
Mavis's eyes widened. "It's working!"
Snape felt a small knot of tension loosen in his chest.
"Yes," he said quietly. "It is."
The final ingredient — starlight salt — shimmered like powdered frost in Mavis's palm. She sprinkled it carefully over the mixture. The brew brightened into a stable, luminescent silver-blue.
Perfect.
Snape stared at it for a long moment.
Most children her age would have botched at least two steps. Over stirring. Dropping ingredients too quickly. Overheating. Mavis had made none of those mistakes.
Her excitement vibrated through the room. "Did I do it right?"
Snape approached the cauldron, his robes whispering behind him. He inspected the potion closely — its color, viscosity, magical hum.
"...Yes."
Mavis gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Really?!"
"Yes," he said again, more firmly. "You completed your first potion successfully."
Veridia trilled in triumphant celebration — spiraling up into the air in glowing loops.
Erevan lifted his head with dignity and gave a slow nod as if granting approval.
Snape cleared his throat sharply. "I will evaluate your future brews, not the dragons."
Mavis giggled. "Okay."
She darted to his side. "Will you help me learn another? Maybe... a healing wash? Or a magic stabilizer? Papa says stabilizers are important."
Snape blinked. "You are seven."
"I can still learn!" she said cheerfully.
Veridia chirped agreement.
Erevan's tail thumped like a supportive drumbeat.
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your ambition is concerning."
"But good, right?" she asked hopefully.
He paused.
Looked at her earnest little face.
The dragons glowing softly behind her.
The potion simmering perfectly in the cauldron.
And something in him that had been cold and locked away for years began to shift — painfully, but undeniably.
"...Yes," he finally said. "It is good."
Mavis beamed.
Snape's voice softened before he realized it. "You have potential. Real potential. You may well surpass—"
He cut himself off abruptly.
He had almost said Lily.
Mavis tilted her head, confused. "Surpass who?"
"No one," Snape said quickly. "Forget it."
"But—"
"Forget it," he repeated, more sternly.
She nodded reluctantly.
Snape exhaled through his nose. "We will continue your lessons once a week. And you will maintain a journal of your progress."
"Like an adventure log?"
"If that helps you take it seriously — yes."
Mavis practically vibrated with excitement. "I can write one! And draw pictures of the dragons helping!"
Snape shot the dragons a look. "Pictures, yes. Participation — no."
The dragons sank lower on their haunches, scolded.
Mavis took Snape's hand — small, warm, unguarded — and squeezed. "Thank you, Master Snape. I really like learning from you."
Snape froze.
A child's innocent gratitude should not have been enough to shatter him.
But for one heartbeat, he saw Lily — her kindness, her gentle admiration — reflected in this child who was not Lily at all, but her legacy made new.
He swallowed.
"You... are welcome," he managed.
And to his own surprise...
He meant it.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7JhUUCsEtW
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