Maggie329
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Chapter 24: Learning, Living, and Thriving
🕑 Added 2025-02-14 06:30:01 +0000 UTCFor the first time in his life, Severus didn’t wake up feeling like he had to be on guard.
There were no Gryffindors waiting to hex him, no Slytherin alliances to navigate, and no looming threat of Dumbledore watching from a distance.
Here, in Ilvermorny, he wasn’t Severus Snape, the outcast.
He was Severus Shafiq—and for once, that name carried respect, not ridicule.
Professor Langford wasn’t Slughorn.
She didn’t play favorites. She didn’t reward charm over skill. And most importantly, she didn’t tolerate mediocrity.
The moment the class began, she waved her wand, and instructions appeared on the board.
Modify a standard Healing Potion to improve either its potency, duration, or effect. No instructions, only results.
Severus read the task and smirked.
Finally. Something worthwhile.
He and Alessandro took their usual station, a familiar routine forming between them.
Alessandro leaned back lazily, watching as Severus methodically gathered ingredients.
“Alright, genius,” Alessandro drawled, crossing his arms behind his head, “you handle the technical part. I’ll supervise.”
Severus didn’t even look up. “You mean you’ll do nothing.”
“I mean,” Alessandro corrected, “I’ll offer moral support.”
Severus rolled his eyes and focused on the task.
Healing Potions followed a strict composition—modifying them required precise balancing of base ingredients.
He increased the Dittany concentration, ensuring deeper tissue regeneration.
Modified the stirring pattern, slowing the reaction rate to extend the potion’s shelf life. And replaced the standard infusion method with a double-extraction process for increased potency.
Alessandro watched as Severus moved with precision, every motion calculated, controlled, efficient.
The way he chopped, measured, stirred—it was like an art form.
Alessandro whistled. “Damn, you look like you’re conducting a symphony.”
Severus smirked, eyes never leaving his cauldron. “That’s because you have the attention span of a dung beetle.”
Alessandro grinned, completely unfazed. “And yet, somehow, I’m your lab partner.”
“Tragic oversight,” Severus muttered.
Professor Langford walked by their station, peering into their cauldron. Her sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly.
“Interesting,” she murmured. “You altered the absorption rate.”
Severus inclined his head slightly. “It should allow the potion to work twice as fast with half the usual dose.”
Langford tapped the rim of his cauldron, intrigued. “And you’re certain there are no side effects?”
“If taken as intended, no,” Severus said. “However, an overdose could lead to accelerated cell regeneration, which could result in minor inflammation if unchecked.”
Langford’s lips curved into a small, approving smile.
“Well, well,” she said. “A student who actually thinks beyond the standard process.”
Alessandro placed a hand over his heart. “Professor, I also contributed—”
Langford ignored him entirely.
“I expect a full report on the process, detailing every change, its magical properties, and why you made these decisions.”
Severus nodded, feeling a quiet satisfaction settle in his chest.
At Hogwarts, he had been forced to hide his genius, knowing that even Slughorn wouldn’t look past the Potters and Blacks.
But here?
Here, his skill mattered.
At Hogwarts, Charms had been one of Severus’s strongest subjects—but Ilvermorny forced him to think beyond mechanics.
Instead of just casting a spell, Professor Graves wanted students to change how the magic functioned.
Graves paced in front of the class, his gaze sharp as ever.
“The essence of spellwork isn’t just the words,” he said. “It’s intent. Energy. Will.”
With a sharp flick of his wand, he pointed to the chalkboard.
“Take a standard Shield Charm. Now modify it. Make it stronger, last longer, or change its properties. You have one hour.”
Severus was paired with Aurora Sinclair, who was just as methodical and precise as he was.
Aurora studied him as he altered his wand movements, adjusting his incantation rhythm.
“You’re restructuring the layering sequence,” she noted, watching his gestures carefully.
Severus nodded, focused. “If the shield’s foundation is reinforced, it absorbs impacts instead of just blocking them.”
Aurora tapped her chin, intrigued. “Which means instead of deflecting force, it can be used to store magical energy.”
Severus’s lips curved into a rare smirk. “Exactly.”
When they demonstrated, Graves was visibly impressed.
“Shafiq, Sinclair—excellent work,” he said, arms crossed. “This is exactly what I want. Intelligence over brute force.”
Severus could almost hear James Potter scoffing in his head.
"Intelligence over brute force."
Yes. That was what set him apart.
That evening, instead of retreating to his dorm, Severus found himself in the 6th-year common room, surrounded by people.
Not enemies. Not opportunists. Actual friends.
Aurora and Jonas sat debating magical theory, while Evie and Kiera mock-dueled with harmless hexes.
Alessandro was half-asleep on the couch, muttering something about the injustice of early morning classes.
Severus, for the first time in years, was simply there—without a burden on his shoulders.
Then Jonas, ever the curious one, leaned forward, his gaze thoughtful.
“So, Shafiq,” he said, “what’s Hogwarts actually like?”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Jonas continued, “all we really know is what we read about in old publications. It’s supposed to be… you know, a bit medieval.”
Kiera nodded, tilting her head. “Yeah, it seems like it never modernized. Like, Ilvermorny updates its curriculum every decade. When was the last time Hogwarts did?”
Severus hesitated. Because they weren’t wrong.
The curriculum at Hogwarts was unchanged for centuries—students still studied from textbooks that had been in use for generations.
“It’s very… traditional,” Severus finally admitted.
Aurora scoffed. “That’s one way to say outdated.”
“No, but seriously,” Evie cut in. “Where are the British magical innovations? The new spell developments? The latest potions research?” She waved a hand. “We get publications from France, Italy, Spain, Brazil, Japan—but hardly anything from Britain.”
Severus thought back to his time at Hogwarts.
The books in the library were old. New research was almost non-existent. No major magical discoveries had come out of Britain in decades.
The only real innovations he had seen were in his own personal research.
He frowned slightly. “That’s… not an unfair observation.”
Jonas leaned forward, interested. “Why do you think that is?”
Severus exhaled, choosing his words carefully. “Because the system doesn’t encourage it.”
Aurora narrowed her eyes. “Meaning?”
Severus tapped his fingers against his knee. “Hogwarts prioritizes tradition over progress. There’s an emphasis on preserving the past, but very little push for advancement.”
“Which explains why we barely see any new British spellwork,” Jonas mused.
“Or groundbreaking potions research,” Evie added. “France has had, what, five major breakthroughs in the last twenty years?”
“Six,” Kiera corrected. “Spain’s got four. Italy leads in enchanting techniques. Japan has completely revolutionized wandless magic. And Britain?”
“Stuck in the past,” Aurora muttered.
Severus considered this. Hogwarts didn’t even offer enchanting or wandless magic as serious subjects.
Then Alessandro, still half-draped over the couch, lazily lifted a hand.
“Okay, but I have to ask,” he said, eyes half-lidded. “Is it really as… bigoted as people say?”
Severus’s jaw tightened. Everyone was watching him now, waiting for his answer.
He could lie. Say that it wasn’t as bad as they thought. That it was just different.
But he didn’t. Instead, he spoke plainly.
“It’s worse.” The room went quiet.
Severus sighed. “It’s not just a bias against No-Maj-borns—it’s systemic. The laws, the hiring practices, the social structures… everything is built around keeping the old bloodlines in power.”
Jonas frowned. “That’s why No-Maj-borns leave after graduation, right?”
Severus nodded. “Many of them do. There are very few opportunities for them in the British Ministry. If you don’t have a family name, you don’t get far.”
Evie shook her head. “That’s insane.”
Kiera scoffed. “That’s pathetic.”
Severus shrugged. “It’s just the way things are.”
Aurora crossed her arms. “That’s why countries like France, Spain, and America see Britain as… what’s the word?”
“Backwards,” Alessandro supplied, sitting up. “That’s the word. Same with Germany and Russia. The old-world magical powers—too proud to admit they’re falling behind.”
Jonas leaned back, crossing his arms. “Damn. No wonder the Ilvermorny gets so many European applicants every year.”
Evie nodded. “Yeah, we get No-Maj-born transfers all the time, mostly from European countries. But not many from Britain. Ever wonder why?”
Severus scoffed. “Because the purebloods don’t want to leave their crumbling empire.”
Aurora hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. But then why don’t No-Maj-borns transfer before graduation? Why wait until they’re already in the workforce?”
That gave Severus pause.
It wasn’t as if No-Maj-borns were forbidden from leaving Britain. But if that was the case…
Why did no one ever talk about transferring to another school?
Why did he have to ask about it by chance?
Severus exhaled slowly. “Because they don’t know they can.”
Kiera frowned. “What do you mean?”
Severus stared into the flickering fire, organizing his thoughts. “The British Ministry and the Hogwarts Board of Governors control the flow of information. They don’t outright forbid students from knowing about the world outside of Britain, but they limit what’s available. They need people to stay. The economy still needs workers, the Ministry still needs employees. If No-Maj-borns had better options presented to them, most of them wouldn’t stay in Britain at all.”
Evie raised an eyebrow. “Wait, wait, wait—you’re saying they just… don’t tell them? That’s it?”
Severus nodded. “Think about it—do you know a single Hogwarts student who’s been part of an exchange program?”
Everyone fell silent.
Jonas shifted uncomfortably. “…No.”
Kiera crossed her arms. “But surely someone would’ve figured it out.”
Severus let out a short, humorless laugh. “I only found out because I happened to ask Mrs. Marchbanks, who’s an educator first and foremost. If I’d asked a Ministry official, I doubt I would’ve gotten a straight answer.”
Aurora’s gaze sharpened. “You mean… you wouldn’t have even known about the exchange program if you hadn’t asked?”
Severus nodded. “No one at Hogwarts knew it was an option. I certainly didn’t. It was just a coincidence that I asked Marchbanks.”
Evie blinked, stunned. “That’s actually terrifying.”
Alessandro let out a low whistle. “So Hogwarts keeps their students isolated, and the Ministry makes sure no one spreads the word about the wider wizarding world. That’s not just traditionalism. That’s deliberate control.”
Severus smirked. “And I got out.”
Aurora tilted her head, observing him. “And if you hadn’t?”
Severus didn’t answer right away. He stared into the fire, considering.
If he had never learned about Ilvermorny’s exchange program, if he had stayed in Britain, stayed in the same cycle of ambition, hatred, and survival…
Would he have ever known that a world beyond that existed?
Would he have ever seen that magic could be more than just a means of power?
Would he have ever realized that he had a choice?
Finally, he exhaled. “Then I’d be like every other idiot still clinging to that broken system.”
Aurora nodded, satisfied. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here.”
Severus smirked. “It is.”
And for the first time, he believed it.
Comments
Ruzzzy
on the other side, it makes sense to tell others in Hogwarts and demonstrate as it should be:) in general, it would be funny if he eventually opened his own school in Britain, as opposed to Hogwarts, on the other hand, there are not so many wizards in Britain.. but a school with the motto “fuck Hogwarts” would be fire
Maggie329
To be honest as I am writing the story, even I am thinking about the same thing. I am honestly confused about Severus going back to Hogwarts for his final year.
Rocky Staggs
I know for the story he has to go back for his 7th year. But damn Id never return knowing what's coming.
