For 30 + advance chapter: patreon.com/Snowing_Melody
"Come with me, Severus. There is no need to go over there right now. We will head straight back to the common room," Regulus said in a low, tight voice, his rapid footsteps echoing against the damp stone of the dungeon corridor.
"Regulus, what happened?" Without a second thought, Severus turned on his heel, his dark robes billowing as he matched his friend's brisk pace.
"Someone attacked Mary Macdonald. We don't know who it is yet. Professor McGonagall wants us to keep it a secret for now to control the narrative," Regulus whispered conspiratorially, his grey eyes scanning the shadows. "I want to get back to the common room quickly to confirm alibis."
"What?" Severus stopped abruptly, the soles of his boots skidding slightly on the stone. His pale face was etched with genuine surprise and sudden anger. "Mary? How could this..."
"What's wrong, Severus?" Regulus also halted, looking back at him sharply.
"But Rabastan and the others are in the Slytherin common room. Mulciber is there too, and Avery. They just clashed with me..."
Severus quickly and efficiently described the tense, physical confrontation that had unfolded by the hearth just moments ago.
Hmm...
Standing in the drafty corridor, the two boys exchanged the key tactical information they possessed, mentally crossing-referencing the timelines.
Hearing that Mary was targeted with the word "Mudblood" smeared on the wall, and connecting it to how he had just been called a "half-blood bastard," a dangerous flicker of pure anger ignited in Severus's dark eyes. He spoke in an incredibly unfriendly, bitter tone:
"These pure-blood giants have no redeeming qualities other than their bloodline, and they only pick on the weak ones—I wasn't talking about you, Regulus."
Regulus rubbed his nose, hiding a cynical smile at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly felt he should find an opportunity to hire Rita Skeeter to write a sensational autobiography for Voldemort.
It would be perfectly titled: "Scars and Lies of the Half-Blood Dark Lord."
"But looking at it this way... it wasn't Rabastan casting the spell this time?" Severus frowned, lost in deep analytical thought.
"Even if it wasn't him personally, he's definitely involved in orchestrating it," Regulus narrowed his eyes. His gaze then dropped, fixating on his friend's reddened, bruising wrist. "Is your wrist okay?"
"It's fine. I'll just put some medicine on it when I get back," Severus replied defensively, hastily pulling his sleeve down to cover the purple mark. He added sharply, "Mulciber prides himself on being pure-blood, but he's just an ape with a wand."
Severus pursed his pale lips and let out a barely perceptible sigh. He spoke as if he didn't care at all, but the tight set of his shoulders and the hollow tone of his voice betrayed his exhaustion. The constant bullying was wearing him down.
Regulus's gaze softened slightly. The complex mental health issues of traumatized underage Wizards were truly more difficult to navigate than studying a Basilisk's lethal stare.
"Severus Snape—" Regulus suddenly reached out and tapped the polished silver "HP" badge pinned to his own chest, then pointed directly to the identical badge resting on Severus's robes. His grey eyes were filled with absolute seriousness.
"You're not some half-blood bastard. You're our Hog Gang's HP."
"HP—The Half-Blood Prince."
Half-Blood Prince. The Half-Blood Prince.
Severus was utterly stunned.
He stared motionlessly at Regulus's unwavering, trusting gaze. A sudden, powerful current of warmth surged through his chest, thawing the cold knot of anxiety that usually lived there. He took a deep, trembling breath, then slowly exhaled. In that single breath, the lingering humiliation of the entire evening seemed to vanish into the castle drafts.
"Haha, Regulus!" Severus looked down at the badge on his chest, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his face—one that was both deeply amused and slightly embarrassed.
HP. That's great.
(¯︶¯)
Regulus patted his thin shoulder with the quiet satisfaction of a CEO securing his most valuable asset, blinking casually.
"Let's go. The world is vast, but sleeping is most important right now—we can't let such boring things affect our growth!"
Their two shadows stretched long and intertwined against the wall, cast by the flickering orange light of the torch at the end of the corridor.
"So if it wasn't Rabastan, who could it be?" Severus asked in a low, calculating voice as they resumed their walk.
"I don't have a solid clue yet either," Regulus replied calmly, his mind already spinning possibilities. "But having a mystery—that's quite interesting too."
"Hmm, I didn't expect Mary's reaction to be so excellent under pressure..."
"Birds of a feather flock together. How could Lily's friends be anything less?" Regulus smiled slightly, a glint of pride in his eye. "We are all Lily's friends."
"Regulus, I was still thinking..." A small, contemplative smile appeared on Severus's face. "Avery was caught in the middle this time. What will he do next?"
"What choice Avery makes is his own business," Regulus said naturally, a note of detachment in his voice. "We can only choose our own path. Of course, you can help guide him."
After a brief pause, he added a piece of fundamental wisdom:
"However, it's useless to drag hesitant friends along with you—you should make friends along the way."
That makes so much sense. As expected of Regulus. Severus nodded thoughtfully, watching the stone path ahead.
The Black Family's Little Prince and his loyal "Half-Blood Prince" walked together, side by side, on the exact same path.
Severus smiled sincerely into the dark.
...
The next evening, high up in the circular Headmaster's office.
Albus Dumbledore had just returned to Hogwarts from Ministry business and immediately received an urgent visit from Professor McGonagall.
As a Legendary Wizard who held multiple powerful political positions, Dumbledore was frequently away from the school. Because of this, Professor McGonagall actually handled a massive portion of the routine Headmaster duties.
"Albus, there's something I need to tell you immediately." Professor McGonagall got straight to the point, standing stiffly before his desk as she recounted the terrifying incident of Mary Macdonald's attack with a grave expression.
"I have questioned the children individually, and their accounts are all completely consistent, with no discrepancies whatsoever," she continued, her hands clasped tightly together.
"And this time, it was thanks to Regulus's clever little invention—" Professor McGonagall's usually stern lips curved slightly upwards, revealing a hint of a relieved, proud smile. "The attacker was probably scared away by the alarm and didn't cause any substantial harm. So, in order not to cause unnecessary panic among the Little Wizards, I chose a more low-key approach."
"Thank you for your hard work, Minerva," Dumbledore praised gently, the firelight reflecting off his half-moon spectacles. "Even if I were at school, I couldn't have handled it better."
"Also, Albus," Professor McGonagall pushed up her square glasses, then carefully extracted a small, transparent crystal vial from her tartan pocket. Inside, a beautiful, cloud-like silver liquid swirled slowly.
"These are my relevant memories of the aftermath. You'd best look at them yourself," she said, placing the vial on the polished mahogany desk.
"I just feel that Horace's behavior last night was a bit strange," she frowned deeply. "He seemed very suspicious of Regulus."
"Alright. I'll keep that in mind."
The Headmaster took the memory vial and waved his elder wand lightly. A shallow stone basin, intricately carved with ancient, mysterious runes, flew silently from a black cabinet nearby, landing steadily in front of him.
The Pensieve.
He slowly poured the glowing memory into the basin, then gently leaned down, immersing his face in the swirling silver mist.
When Dumbledore finally raised his head from the basin, droplets of silver light clinging to his beard, his lips already held clear, undeniable approval.
"A remarkable new generation, aren't they?" Professor McGonagall couldn't help but smile warmly as she observed his pleased expression. "Lively minds, brave and determined, highly talented, willing to work hard, and able to unite."
"And, Albus," Professor McGonagall's tone softened, filled with genuine emotion. "Regulus is the most outstanding student I have taught in all these years."
Dumbledore smiled softly. Behind his spectacles, his piercing blue eyes were bright and incredibly wise.
"Yes, Minerva. He is indeed very outstanding—so outstanding that he probably reminded Horace of another brilliant student he taught many years ago, and some terrible events that happened at that time."
The Headmaster's gaze drifted past her, passing through the clear arched window to rest on the towering, dark treetops of the Forbidden Forest.
"That was before you came to teach at Hogwarts. And this matter is actually related to Rubeus as well."
Professor McGonagall raised an elegant eyebrow questioningly, silently waiting for the Headmaster to elaborate.
"Actually, I've had a question lingering in my heart all these years," Dumbledore's voice deepened into a gravelly whisper, thick with old regrets. "It was 1943. He was in his third year at Hogwarts..."