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While the highly sentient Room of Requirement was miraculously capable of producing almost anything they needed, it was fundamentally bound by Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration: it could not conjure edible food out of thin air. However, Regulus, ever the flawless aristocratic host, absolutely refused to let the productive party atmosphere drop.
He reached into his expanded robe pocket and pulled out a fresh handful of plump, sweet blueberries and two chilled, glass bottles of Muggle sparkling water, casually placing them onto the edge of the heavy oak Potions table.
Severus, who was already intensely focused, eager to carefully lay out his chopped ingredients and begin brewing the highly complex, new version of the 'Vitality Potion' (secretly destined for Remus), paused. He shot Regulus a deeply severe, highly dissatisfied glare. With meticulous, exaggerated care, Severus slid the mundane snacks far, far away from his pristine cauldron, moving them to a small, newly materialized coffee table nearby.
Keep your mundane blueberries away from my volatile fluxweed, Severus's dark eyes clearly communicated. The future Potions Master simply possessed his own rigid, unshakeable laboratory persistence.
"Hehe. My apologies, Sev," Regulus chuckled honestly, not offended in the slightest. He leaned against the workbench, seamlessly slipping back into his charismatic CEO persona. "Oh, right! I almost forgot to tell you the final corporate roadmap. I plan to aggressively launch the four specific types of sheet masks we discussed simultaneously—a clarifying acne mask targeted at the Hogwarts teenagers, an intense anti-aging mask for the middle-aged pureblood wives, a rapid skin-tone brightening mask, and..."
Regulus took a sip of his sparkling water. "I actually managed to secretly contact a high-end Muggle silk manufacturer via post to secure the base fabric..."
"...And best of all, I bravely let my mother try the active serum sample you gave me before term started. Although she was understandably, violently hesitant at first to put a 'nameless' potion on her face..." Regulus grinned, a massive, highly triumphant light in his dark eyes.
"My terrifying mother has officially decided to be the primary angel investor for our startup business. She legally advanced a massive sum of venture capital directly from the Black family's Gringotts vault..."
A thin, shimmering ribbon of silver steam began to rise gracefully from the brass cauldron, and the bubbling potion rapidly began to emit a deeply pleasant, earthy fragrance. Severus quietly, methodically stirred clockwise, happily listening to Regulus's rapid-fire, highly corporate rambling.
After thoroughly describing their thriving present monopoly and painting a glorious, insanely wealthy future for them both, Regulus finally pulled a massive, heavy tome titled Mathematical Principles of Alchemical Philosophy from his bag and started aggressively reading it.
Honestly, Regulus thought, flipping through the dense, logarithmic equations, in my past modern life, I always arrogantly thought advanced calculus was completely, utterly useless for everyday living. But now... it finally goes hand-in-hand with manipulating the fundamental laws of magic.
After some time had passed, Severus, having successfully finished the volatile second stage of his brew, wiped his brow and looked over at Regulus sitting a few feet away.
Regulus had openly admitted that he simply wasn't naturally gifted at the delicate, highly patient art of brewing Potions. So, whenever Severus was happily brewing, Regulus always—exactly as he had ruthlessly outlined in his grand business plan—focused entirely on crafting highly complex, strange magical items.
One absolute prodigy actively does the theoretical Alchemy; the other absolute prodigy perfectly brews the Potions. They were an incredibly efficient, highly lethal two-man corporation with a brutally clear, optimized division of labor.
A very simple, highly ergonomic set of wooden table and chairs had silently appeared near the bookshelves at some point to accommodate the Black heir. Sitting in front of several open, leather-bound grimoires, the handsome, black-haired boy currently held his hawthorn wand tightly in his right hand, a sharp silver quill in his left, and a highly specialized, thick alchemical magnifying lens pinched delicately between his fingertips.
The razor-sharp tip of the silver quill was pressed firmly against a short, rectangular piece of heavy parchment.
A blindingly bright, highly condensed beam of raw magic shot from the tip of Regulus's wand. It passed directly through the thick alchemical lens, violently focusing the raw magical energy into a microscopic, burning point directly on the center of the parchment.
Regulus's pale fingers moved with agonizingly slow, microscopic precision, constantly adjusting the angle of the lens. He held his wand arm terrifyingly steady, as if his muscles were entirely immune to fatigue, slowly bringing the glowing wand tip closer and closer to the glass until it was almost touching.
The young boy patiently, ruthlessly repeated this physically grueling, highly dangerous process over and over again, surprisingly managing to keep his back completely, rigidly straight the entire time without slouching once.
Watching his friend's intense, aristocratic discipline, Severus unconsciously straightened his own chest and rolled his slumped shoulders back. Ever since officially becoming true friends with Regulus, Severus had been deeply influenced by the boy's impeccable habits. He had actually started paying genuine attention to his own physical posture and daily appearance. Even Lily had recently commented, with a bright smile, that he looked significantly healthier and much more energetic this term.
The repetition of Regulus's hand movements constantly, aggressively sped up. Eventually, it became a blur; Severus gradually couldn't even visually track Regulus's incredibly fine, hyper-focused motor skills.
Suddenly, a blinding, incredibly strong golden line of solid light shot out violently from the bottom of the lens.
Regulus seized the volatile opportunity. He aggressively guided the burning golden line with his quill, violently engraving a long string of highly complex, mysterious runic symbols that glowed with liquid gold into the parchment in one, flawless, uninterrupted stroke!
The sheer, raw magical radiation of the glowing symbols made the physical parchment tremble violently on the desk. For a terrifying split second, the heavy paper seemed to actively shake off a layer of burning ozone dust—Severus actually gasped, fully believing the parchment was going to violently combust into flames, and he held his breath...
Then, the blinding golden light on the parchment suddenly, completely extinguished.
It lay there, perfectly intact, looking exactly as if absolutely nothing magical had happened at all.
Regulus, slowly recovering from his terrifying state of absolute, hyper-focused concentration, looked up. Heavy beads of cold sweat were running down his pale temples from his forehead, and his dark eyes still seemed to faintly reflect the eerie, lingering glow of that mysterious golden light.
"Merlin's beard, Severus!" Regulus groaned, dropping the lens and heavily massaging his cramped wrist. "Physically writing complex alchemical code by hand is so incredibly, agonizingly hard."
Regulus pulled a crisp silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, elegantly wiped away the heavy sweat from his brow, and finally showed a deeply relieved, highly triumphant smile.
"Merlin..." Severus breathed, his lips moving slightly. He was completely unable to look away from the seemingly ordinary piece of paper. He had genuinely never seen anything like that highly advanced, incredibly volatile crafting process in his entire life.
"Here. This specific 'client' parchment is permanently bound for you."
Regulus stood up, his legs slightly shaky, and stuffed the newly minted, highly enchanted parchment directly into Severus's pale hands. He then reached into his own pocket and pulled out an identical, matching piece of parchment.
"Logically speaking, the underlying code states that if our physical distance is no more than exactly one thousand steps from each other, you simply write my name at the top of the page, and then write a message containing absolutely no more than exactly 160 characters—I will instantly, silently receive the text on my master parchment. And vice versa."
(Regulus's internal modern gamer logic: I successfully magically recreated the foundational 160-character SMS text message limit! Take that, 1970s wizarding world!)
"Sirius and I originally started designing the highly flawed beta version of this during the summer break..." Regulus explained casually, leaning against the table. "I just made a few massive, highly complex alchemical improvements to the localized network range. You can help me actively test it out for bugs."
Severus nodded blankly, staring at the paper. Then, his mind caught up to the names. Wait... if the arrogant, utterly loathsome Sirius Black was also heavily involved in inventing this brilliant little gadget... then did that violently annoying, arrogant James Potter also...
"I know you don't particularly like my brother and his loud Gryffindor gang," Regulus said frankly, his dark eyes instantly reading the deep, disgusted micro-expression flashing across Snape's face, exactly as if he were reading his mind. "But realistically speaking, Sev... in the future, if we want to build a true empire, we will inevitably have to occasionally cooperate with Sirius. Despite his awful personality, he possesses an absolutely terrifying, undisputed natural talent for reverse-engineering and modifying magical items."
How incredibly, deeply annoying, Severus thought bitterly.
But... what Regulus had patiently explained to him during their previous business meetings also made a terrifying amount of logical sense. Since they, the ambitious Slytherins, were going to aggressively build a massive, highly lucrative corporate career that would dominate the wizarding economy, they absolutely needed to maintain a cold, calculating 'big picture' mindset and a grand, overarching scope.
They had to strictly adhere to Regulus's corporate commandments: "Ruthlessly realize and exploit all available talent," "Never let petty emotions cause you to financially self-destruct," and "Always, absolutely prioritize the long-term career."
And for Severus, Regulus's ultimate, highly cynical conclusion made the most sense of all:
Why do the hard labor yourself? They are silly, hyper-energetic Gryffindor lions. Do not hesitate to actively use them for free, highly skilled labor.
Thinking of the Marauders strictly as unpaid, easily manipulated corporate employees, the slight, burning stuffiness of petty rivalry in Severus's chest immediately disappeared without a single trace.
The two prodigies spent the next hour aggressively testing the limits of the magical SMS parchment while happily drinking sparkling water and snacking on the remaining blueberries.
In the warm, deeply quiet Room of Requirement, there was only the peaceful, highly comforting rustling sound of silver quills rapidly scratching against heavy parchment.
[Regulus]: I have a massive historical guess. If Godric Gryffindor himself actively, secretly built this incredibly powerful room at Hogwarts... what about the other three founders? Did they also leave their own corresponding, highly concealed magical treasures hidden in the castle?
[Severus]: That is a highly logical deduction. Indeed, I have frequently heard the dark pureblood legends regarding the Chamber of Secrets built by Slytherin.
[Regulus]: Hogwarts is honestly simply too much fun. Only being allowed to stay here for seven short years is really not nearly enough time to explore it all. It's far too short.
[Severus]: Indeed. It is.
Severus nodded slowly, looking up from the glowing text to look at Regulus casually lounging beside him.
Hogwarts... this ancient, dangerous, magical castle... was genuinely the very first time in his entire, miserable life that Severus Snape actually felt like he had a true, safe home.
Here, hidden behind these thick stone walls, he didn't have to face the terrifying, drunken violence of Tobias Snape or the crushing, suffocating poverty of his terrible family in Spinner's End. Here, there was endless, delicious food appearing magically on golden plates... He didn't need to constantly worry about basic, daily survival. Every single day, he just needed to be happily accompanied by highly complex, beautiful magic, and most importantly... his true friends were also here.
The brilliant, fiercely loyal, deeply shining friends he never, in his darkest dreams, ever thought a poor half-blood boy like him could actually have.
Lily Evans, the brightest, kindest witch of Gryffindor.
And Regulus Black, the wealthiest, most terrifyingly brilliant prince of Slytherin.
When both of them were so incredibly talented and popular that they could have easily chosen to be friends with absolutely anyone in the entire castle... they both actively, firmly chose him.
Severus's heavily guarded, usually cold heart warmed with an incredibly profound, overwhelming sense of peace.
[Regulus]: Well, then why don't we just aggressively scheme to come back and work full-time as professors at Hogwarts in the future? We'd basically own the castle.
The glowing golden words Regulus wrote on his master parchment instantly appeared clearly before Severus Snape's dark eyes.
"That is a brilliant idea!" Severus's eyes lit up with sheer, unadulterated excitement, and he completely couldn't help but answer aloud, abandoning the text message.
But... to be personally hired by Dumbledore as a formal Hogwarts professor, it seemed you absolutely had to be an incredibly, internationally outstanding master of your field, right?
Severus looked up. He saw Regulus already looking at him, casually giving him a highly encouraging, modern 'thumbs-up' gesture. The warm smile on the aristocratic boy's face seemed completely full of absolute, unwavering recognition and absolute certainty in Severus's ultimate potential.
"So, what will it be, Sev?" Regulus asked aloud. "Will you teach Potions, or Defense Against the Dark Arts? I've heard you are already terrifyingly best at both of those subjects."
"Haha! I'll take the dungeons and teach Potions, obviously. And then you can stay up in the towers and teach advanced Alchemy?" Severus laughed, a genuinely happy, entirely unburdened sound. He eagerly raised his crystal sparkling water cup in a toast. "When that day finally comes, I'll be in my classroom brewing the most dangerous Potions, and you'll be in yours aggressively doing highly illegal Alchemy—haha, exactly just like we are doing right now!"
"It's a promise, Professor Snape," Regulus grinned brilliantly, tapping his glass against Severus's. "Cheers!"
Many, many long years later...
After having violently survived a brutal war, having experienced countless terrifying, thrilling life-and-death encounters, having navigated the crushing, agonizing ups and downs of acting as the ultimate double agent, and having officially, globally become the most feared and highly renowned Potions Master of his era...
Severus Snape would always vividly, fiercely remember the profound warmth of this exact night in the Room of Requirement.
And whenever he looked back at the impossible trajectory of his life, he would always softly say to himself:
Fate had already flawlessly laid the groundwork for my survival that night.
And the fiercely loyal, brilliant friend he had toasted with in the candlelight... against all canonical odds, was still standing right there beside him.