chapter 9

Chapter 9: Prince

"You're going to the Ministry? Do you want me to come with you?" said Lily from her chair near the living room couch.

"No, you don't have to do that." Severus gathered a stack of parchments. You've spent far too much time just sitting with me since I got here.

"Oh… all right…" Lily closed her book and set it aside. Not three minutes later, as Severus pulled on his shoes, there was a knock at the front door, and Lily rushed to get it. "Emmeline, you're here already?" Her voice rose in excitement. "Let me grab my purse. Mom, Dad, Emmeline's here," she called into the house.

"Okay, honey. Don't be gone too long," Mrs. Evans replied from the kitchen.

Lily poked her head into the living room. "Bye, Sev. Have fun at the Ministry."

He nodded his goodbye. Probably going to meet up with more of her friends from school and do all the things she's wanted to do but didn't because of me. He left shortly after Lily and Emmeline with a polite goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Petunia rolled her eyes at him but didn't make any snide remarks.

He entered the Ministry atrium alone.

"Oh, dear!" A kind-faced witch stopped him not far inside. "Your shoulder is bruised to the bone. Do you want me to fix it before you go back to the muggles?"

She must think… He adjusted his borrowed clothes. I'd have bought my own clothes if I had the money. I suppose the unhealed injuries don't help. Though she's not completely wrong to think I'm muggleborn. "That's very kind," said Severus with a grateful smile. Warmth spread through his shoulder and the sore ache vanished. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear. What are healers for? Though you must excuse me." The witch smiled and continued across the atrium as if she'd done nothing at all.

Magic is a wonderful thing. Strange I haven't missed it much so far. He approached the registration counter, parchment stack tucked under his arm.

The wizard ahead of him in line looked like a colorful beetle with his spectacled eyes that peered from beneath a tall, purple hat's brim, graying hair that poked in all directions, and wizarding robes patched together in a hodgepodge of colors and patterns. "I swear, this time It's a work of genius!" He gestured at the witch who sat behind the desk. "Wizards and witches the world over will appreciate it."

"Sure." The clerk raised a brow and held back an eye roll. "But until you find a use for the Confindupolan, you can keep the genius to yourself."

"Fine…" The colorfully clad wizard snorted and snatched his parchment from the desk. "I know it's brilliant. You'll see!"

The witch's attention turned to Severus, and the annoyance in her eyes remained. "What've you got, kid? A genius prankster charm that'll go down in the history of magic and give you some pocket money?"

"No, madam," said Severus. "I'd like to remain anonymous as this potion's creator."

"Oh?" Interest replaced the witch's irritation.

Severus handed her the parchment. "Wolfsbane potion. It's not a cure for lycanthropy, but it considerably eases the condition."

The witch scanned the description at the top of the page. "Why, Mr. Snape, is it? This… is useful. Thoughtful." She studied the formula. "This looks complicated. I'm afraid I have no idea how it's supposed to work." The clerk flipped to the detailed description of how the potion functioned. "Oi! Calvin!" she shouted over her should. "Come look at this. It might be the genuine thing of the year."

A middle-aged man peered through a narrow doorway. "What is it, Helen?" Excitement's gleam lit his eyes.

Guess it's a big day for them when something of real value comes in. Otherwise it'd be the same boring paperwork every day.

"It's a potion, Calvin." She handed him Severus' papers. "Have a look."

"This is interesting." Calvin paged through the documentation. "Pretty complicated. And expensive. A shame—a lot of people would've been delighted… if it works. Who made this?"

Severus cleared his throat. "I did."

Calvin pointed at Severus. "You? Sorry to ask, but… how old are you exactly? Are you out of school?"

Irritation rose at the questions. "I'm sixteen, and no, I'm not."

"But… how…?" Calvin looked from the parchment to Severus several times. "Why?"

"A good friend of mine is a werewolf," Severus lied. "I wanted to help him."

"Well, it's not like there's been much research in the field." Calvin gave Severus' documentation another hard look.

It's not going to turn blank you know.

"This will need testing." Calvin said.

"Magical Animals department?" Helen said.

"Probably," said Calvin.

As amusing as it is to hear Lupin categorized as an animal… to label people like that is disgusting.

"Go figure this out." Calvin shoved the parchment into Helen's arms.

"Me?" She shuddered. "But I hate that woman. Can't you go?"

"We all hate her," said Calvin. "But it's your turn. You made me go to the Muggle department yesterday, and it's not like Runcorn is more pleasant than her. If they hate the subject so much, why don't they change departments?"

"Fine. I'll go." Helen hauled the papers toward the elevator.

"Now, Mr. Snape, I need you to sign a few papers," said Calvin.

"I'd like to remain anonymous as the creator. Is that possible?" said Severus.

"I… guess… Though the higher-ups in research facilities and Ministry members will need access to the information, so it must be in our archives, but I suppose we can keep it from the public." His brows furrowed. "And we'll have to call you once the right department figures out what to do with your invention before they test it. You'd like to be present, wouldn't you?"

Severus thought a moment, then nodded. "Yes." Anything less is sloppy.

Less than a day passed before the Ministry called him back.

Severus returned and found the receptionist. "I'm here about a potion I registered."

The woman handed him a badge. "Third floor," she said. "Fifth office on the left."

"Thank you."

Severus took the elevator. Inside, an office listing hung on one wall. He found his destination half-way down the list and shuddered. Dolores Umbridge. The name burned into him like lit gunpowder on a wooden slate. Of all the people in this world, I can say in honesty I hate this woman most. Potter, Black, Wormtail, Lestrange, most of the other Death Eaters for that matter, even Voldemort—they can't compare. Never been one to hide behind women, but I wish Minerva were here right now. How did she ever manage Umbridge when no one else could? Can I call myself a master at such things if I can't handle Umbridge?

What does that woman want? Is woman even the proper word? To call her a dragon would insult the poor creatures. I must keep my temper in front of her.

Dread clutched his heart as the elevator door squeaked open. Severus stopped in front of Umbridge's office. A hideous blue cat platter hung on the door accompanied by a bright pink sign that read, "Dolores Umbridge, Department Head."

No wonder magical animal rights plummeted so fast then—now—before, whatever.

He knocked once.

"Enter."

A shiver rippled through Severus. He stiffened and fought to hold down his breakfast as the high-pitched, sugary-sweet voice curdled his stomach.

A passing witch whispered in sympathy, "Think of your favorite book. It'll help you survive."

Like I needed a warning. He inched open the door. Pink walls assaulted him, accompanied by countless, multicolored kitten plates hung on the walls.

And the monster herself.

Umbridge sat at her desk in the middle of the horrendous room.

Still just as appalling—and fake. She should be a good deal younger than when I saw her last, but I don't see much of a difference. A bit slimmer, perhaps, but not by much, and she still has no neck.

A black bow smacked her mouse-brown curls, like a fat fly a month dead. Her face, like the rest of her, was toadish.

"Mr. Snape?" Doubt shadowed Umbridge's face.

Severus nodded.

Umbridge's beady eyes narrowed. "Severus Snape?" Her tone grew indignant.

He nodded again as disgust soured his mouth.

"Not Severus Snape Jr.?"

"My father's name is Tobias," he snapped. "I am the potion's creator."

"Grandparents?"

Severus gave in to the urge and rolled his eyes. "I don't know any of them. And, no, Ms. Umbridge, I don't know any uncles or aunts either."

"Surely you can't be the creator. I had our most brilliant master review it. He called it the work of a genius."

"I'll take that as a gracious compliment," Severus shot back. "Ask me anything about the potion. I assure you, I can answer."

"Believe me, I will." Dolores smiled sweetly.

Another chill shot down Severus' back.

"In fact, I planned for that. We don't want thieves to get the glory for others' work. You'll be proud to know that in only a couple of hours your formula went through many hands. An old potions master insisted he meet you. I chose him because he's the best, and should this prove a trick, he'll see through it." Dolores tilted her ugly, fat head and a dangerous reflection caught her eyes. "I do so hate liars."

Severus managed a cold, "Fine."

"Allow me to introduce you." Umbridge opened a side door. "My lord, if you'd please come in," she said, tone cheery.

An older gentleman entered.

Of fine blood, I see.

The man's formal robes were simple, elegant, and undeniably expensive. His snow-white hair combed neatly back and black eyes held sharp intelligence with a hint of danger. He stood straight, his long lean frame composed with such dignity he appeared strong despite his build. Thin, wrinkled hands held a black cane, and he walked with grace. His air spoke to an unbending will.

Seems it would be unwise to cross him.

"May I introduce the lord of Prince Manor, Augustus Prince?"

Severus' heart skipped. Lord of… Prince Manor?

"Close your mouth, boy," Augustus scolded. "Staring is rude."

Severus obeyed, but didn't avert his gaze and instead narrowed his eyes into a glare.

"Where's this mysterious inventor?" Augustus scanned the room, ignoring Severus.

"Ahem," Umbridge gestured for Severus to speak up.

"I'm here, Sir." This must be… But I never saw him in my previous life. Lord of Prince Manor… the last Prince left. I never even knew his first name until now. This is Mother's father… my grandfather…

"Hm." Augustus regarded him with disapproval. "Snape. The name sounds familiar. Is your father in the potions business by chance?"

"No. My father's a muggle," said Severus.

"Your mother?"

"No. She was a housewife."

"Was?"

"She died last September."

"Must've been young. A shame." Augustus approached Severus. "So, you're telling me you invented this wonder, young man?"

"Yes, Sir."

Their eyes locked, black against black. The eyes of many pureblooded wizards, close kin to the Blacks, look like this.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen, Sir." Severus appraised Augustus. I wondered how he died. I was… nineteen? Had recently joined the Death Eaters—inherited the Prince fortune overnight. He seems strong enough. I doubt it was illness.

"Explain how the potion works—like you would tell a first-year student," Augustus said, eyes narrowed.

"It poisons the werewolf, deteriorating the curse from within, but isn't potent enough to kill the host."

"Why add Valmue drops?"

"To ensure the transformation isn't disrupted or altered—to help prevent fatality for the host."

"How?"

"Without them, the host's inner organs could jumble, or they may not be able to regain human form—probably both."

"Why let it simmer twenty hours after adding beetle bark?"

Trick question. Severus smirked. "The twenty-hour simmer allows the nightshade to become compatible with the wolfsbane. Without beetle bark, the whole work area smells of rotten doxy eggs."

Augustus broke the stare, and to Umbridge said, "The boy knows his potions. If you don't mind, I'd like to spend the afternoon with him and return later. How about…" he popped an old silver pocket watch, "four o'clock, when the ministry closes for customers? That gives us a couple of hours."

"Of course, my lord." A wide grin spread over Umbridge's toady face.

What does she hope to gain from this?

"Let's go, boy." Augustus left Umbridge's office, and Severus sprinted to catch the door before it closed. He lengthened each stride even more to catch Augustus before he reached the elevator. "Did you have lunch?" Augustus said without looking at Severus.

"No, Sir."

"Good."

A man of actions, not words, I see. How did you die? Killed by Death Eaters, perhaps? That seems unlikely.

The elevator chimed, and Severus and Augustus stepped into the packed car. Neither said a word as they descended to the ground floor and left the Ministry.

Severus followed Augustus to a restaurant around the corner. Antique furniture and elegant décor lent the place an expensive air.

"Sit down, boy." Augustus said, words more an order than a request.

"Thank you, Sir." Severus nodded and sat opposite Augustus.

"I like your manners, boy." Augustus' cold eyes warmed a fraction.

"Thank you, Sir," Severus repeated. "Though it is rather rude of you to call me 'boy' when you know my name." He held Augustus' gaze in challenge.

"Don't try my patience." Augustus studied a tall, porcelain vase in the near corner.

I'm only here to satisfy my curiosity. I don't have to be here.

"If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a liar," Augustus said. "But what I like even less is brilliant potential and talent falling prey to lies." He leaned across the table. "We both know you didn't invent that potion. It would've taken years of research to come by some of those components—years you don't have."

"Years, no. Motives, yes. A werewolf resides at my school. He tried to keep his condition a secret, but I found out early. The mere thought of him terrified me, so I did whatever I could to mitigate the danger."

"Even went through all that trouble instead of killing him?"

"I don't walk about killing schoolmates." Severus matched Augustus' tone. "Even if they are part beast," he muttered.

Augustus smiled in approval, but the expression vanished quickly. "I like you, boy."

Severus stifled the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he crossed his arms and opted for a cold glare.

"Far too intelligent for your age." Augustus frowned.

Perceptive. How did you die, Augustus Prince?

"Don't let that make you think you've nothing to learn," said Augustus.

Severus regarded him, puzzled.

"Am I right to assume you're at Hogwarts?"

"Of course." Severus nodded.

"Which house?"

"Slytherin."

Augustus smirked this time. "Thought so. I was too, so I can usually recognize a Slytherin when I see one." He cleared his throat. "I'm sure your head's full of ideas of glory. It's a house of overachievers after all. But it's also a house of ambition, and that ambition for glory often rules the minds of the young."

What is he talking about?

"You think you can easily get glory by joining a no-good Lord. This isn't the first time someone's promised power and glory to his followers," said Augustus.

He's talking about Voldemort… Even though he let Mother down—or maybe not. I don't know that story. I respect him a lot more now. "I assure you, I have no interest in joining the Dark Lord."

Augustus seemed unconvinced. "You're meant for greatness, but you're the kind to become a follower. I hate seeing talent wasted. I've seen other Dark Lords in my time, and none of them were worth anything. Lies, that's what they sell. Nothing more."

Now I remember! Killed by Death Eaters when he refused to join them. That disgusted me then, as a new Death Eater myself. That a Prince would die such a foolish death… as the war ended, it spurred me to forget the mansion—let it all rot. He knew when he defied them it meant his death. Severus' new respect for Augustus doubled. "Thank you, Sir, you don't have to worry. I've had a rather hard lesson already. I'd rather die than join the ranks of the Dark Lord." Literally.

"So young, so inexperienced…" Augustus sighed. "But I do believe you've had your fair share of experiences. The way you talk and behave makes that evident, Mr. Snape." His eyes gleamed with intrigue. "I'm curious about what goes on inside your head. Tell me more about this potion. When did you first think of developing it? To prevent transformation of the mind rather than the body—it's quite clever. In the past, everyone who attempted a cure focused on preventing the physical change first. They all failed."

"I know. A dim-witted approach. It must progress in stages."

"Indeed. Do tell how you thought of this approach."

"Well, Sir…" Tread carefully. "I suppose it helps the werewolf isn't my friend or relative. Previous attempts came about because someone close to the would-be inventor was bitten. But I just wanted to ensure the werewolf wouldn't break loose during the full moon and harm someone. I adopted an outsider's perspective. Stopping the transformation entirely still seems impossible—at least, without killing twenty or more test subjects along the way…"

This chapter has been edited by Dtill359