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Chapter 18: Spider's Tail
🕑 Added 2024-12-11 19:33:00 +0000 UTCSince tonight would feature a formal banquet, Professor McGonagall had written in advance to inform Victor that he should report in formal attire.
Victor's formal robe, purchased from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, was not very different from his other outfits. It was a pure black cloak paired with a black shirt and trousers. The only difference was the intricate, vintage patterns adorning the collar of the robe.
On his first day, he needed to bring quite a few things. In addition to his essential antique hand mirror, he carried a briefcase charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm to hold all his luggage.
Before leaving, he glanced into the mirror one last time.
“Hmm... wouldn’t a brooch look good on this collar?”
After examining his plain outfit, he casually plucked a luminous blue nightshade flower from the windowsill and pinned it to his collar.
Satisfied, he stepped into the mirror.
---
Knockturn Alley, nestled in a corner of a major English city, was essentially a slum. If Victor hadn’t scouted it in advance, he wouldn’t have believed a Potions professor would reside in such a place.
His previous acquaintances at least lived in a gilded cave, if not somewhere more extravagant.
Victor emerged from a shattered mirror at the corner of Knockturn Alley. His black leather boots crunched on discarded cabinet debris as he dusted himself off and stepped out of the dim recess.
The alley bordered a filthy river, with overgrown weeds on both sides. In the distance, a towering smokestack—remnants of an abandoned mill—added an oppressive aura to the already eerie atmosphere.
Victor headed straight for the last house in a row of brick buildings.
An elderly Muggle passing by froze in terror upon seeing him, stumbling back several steps before collapsing onto the trash-strewn road. As Victor passed, the old man shakily muttered, “Good heavens... as if this alley wasn’t ominous enough already.”
Victor ignored him and stopped in front of the last brick house, knocking on the door.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
The old wooden door creaked open a few seconds later, revealing a pale, waxen face framed by greasy black hair hanging like curtains.
“Good afternoon,” the man said flatly. “Come in. You’re a bit late; Minerva is probably already setting up the hall.”
“Apologies, I was delayed by packing,” Victor replied without batting an eye, conveniently forgetting how he had been tying a letter to an owl just ten minutes earlier.
Snape didn’t press further. He stepped back to let Victor in, his eyes briefly lingering on the blue flower at Victor’s collar.
Victor entered the house.
Snape’s residence was sparsely furnished, clearly not a permanent dwelling. The living room contained only a fireplace on the right, a worn sofa, and walls lined with bookshelves.
“Albus mentioned that you might connect your office fireplace to the Floo Network. Once you arrive, you can visit him first. Then meet Minerva; she’ll explain the electives to you.”
Snape’s tone was neutral, free from any unpleasant undertones, likely because Victor was a colleague and his somber appearance matched the Slytherin aesthetic.
Victor nodded to show he understood.
However, Snape couldn’t help glancing again at the flower on Victor’s chest.
“What flower is that?” Snape asked. “I’ve never seen it before.”
Victor followed his gaze and looked at the “brooch” he had improvised. “Nightshade. It’s a rare variety from my homeland. I doubt it exists in England.”
“I assume it has magical properties?”
“Yes. Some say blue nightshade allows one to hear the voices of the dead, but that’s a myth. The petals and pollen are toxic and cause hallucinations. Excessive inhalation leads to death in blissful illusions.”
Seeing Snape’s subtle reaction, Victor added, “A single flower merely lifts one’s mood slightly. It takes a whole field of them to be fatal.”
“I see. Its effects are indeed noticeable—I can feel it…”
Snape’s gaze brightened, clearly contemplating its potential value.
“...A potent hallucinogen, mild toxicity… It could be an excellent substitute for Mimosa and Peppermint in modifying Euphoria and Amortentia, perhaps even useful in poison development…”
Snape paced back and forth, muttering unfamiliar terms under his breath. Victor remained unfazed; he was accustomed to individuals like Snape.
Obsession over potions? He had once seen a woman so obsessed with a pair of red dancing shoes that she ended up having to cut off her feet.
Finally, Snape stopped pacing and calmly asked, “I suppose you wouldn’t mind parting with that flower? Name your price...”
“It’s not about the price,” Victor replied. “I can give you this one. However, I still need it for now. Formal attire typically includes a brooch, but I forgot to buy one, so I’m using this as a substitute to make an impression on the students.”
“I’ll give it to you after the banquet.”
“After the banquet…” Snape repeated the phrase, looking dissatisfied. Unfortunately, his house had neither a brooch to trade nor formal attire.
For years, he had always shown up to opening ceremonies dressed as a giant bat...
“Very well. Thank you,” Snape finally said, his tone dragging slightly.
Victor nodded. “One thing—if you plan to experiment on the flower, you’d better finish before midnight. This type of nightshade only remains fresh and magically potent for twelve hours after being picked. After that, it wilts and loses its magic.”
“Preservation charms won’t work?” Snape asked.
“No. Its magical properties cannot be preserved.”
“Can’t you replicate it?”
“No. Its glowing blue color is a magical effect.”
Snape’s interest only grew. His gaze fixated on the flower, but he eventually held his tongue.
Turning briskly, he walked over to a small box, retrieved a handful of glowing green Floo powder, and tossed it into the fireplace.
The flames turned emerald green instantly.
“Off you go,” Snape said, tilting his head toward Victor. “Destination: ‘Hogwarts Potions Office.’”
With that, he stepped into the flames and vanished.
Victor followed suit, stepping into the fire and feeling the cool, flame-like tendrils lick his cheeks as he murmured, “Hogwarts Potions Office.”
--
After a dizzying spin, Victor found himself in a dimly lit office. Glass jars filled with herbs and preserved animal organs lined the walls, and the damp air smelled faintly of mildew.
This place was clearly underground.
There were no windows, and the only source of light was a candle on a desk buried under books.
In the corner, a cauldron bubbled with a potion.
“What’s that?” Victor asked curiously.
“Felix Felicis,” Snape replied.
Felix Felicis, or Liquid Luck, was an extremely difficult potion to brew, reserved for Potions Masters and worth a fortune. For Snape, however, it was routine work.
Victor, unaware of its value, glanced at it briefly and said nothing more.
Snape bit his lip subtly, frustrated. He had hoped Victor would show interest so he could offer an insider deal and perhaps secure the flower early.
Do seers not need Felix Felicis?
It made sense. Seers could foresee accidents and didn’t rely on luck.
“There’s the way out,” Snape finally said impassively, pointing to a passage. “The hall is upstairs. You’ll find Professor McGonagall there. I have matters to attend to, so I won’t be accompanying you.”
