Half an hour later.
Having finished with the memories of the three Marauders, Grid returned to the Whomping Willow through the same passage.
There it is. — He aimed his wand at a thick branch. A blue flash shot from the tip, and a moment later a rather large rat tumbled from the tree.
The mage didn't bother talking to it. He simply used Obliviate, erased the past seven hours from its memory, then picked up the piece of wood — having first transfigured it into a coin — and headed back toward the castle.
Finally reaching his room, Grid dropped the coin onto the floor. A few seconds later it reverted to a large chunk of wood.
"Well then. Time to get to work." — Pointing his wand at it, the mage used wind magic to split the large piece into several dozen small cubes, then picked one up and nodded thoughtfully. "That'll do." — He slipped the wand back into his sleeve, extended a finger — a flame igniting at its tip — and began carefully tracing an unknown pattern onto the surface.
A few minutes later he turned it over and began inscribing the second side.
Half an hour later, a cube hovered before the mage, every face covered in dark symbols.
"Aporrofisi — absorption of surrounding energy. Aiorisi — levitation. Empodio — barrier. Therapeia — healing. Antanaklasi — reflection. And Apokrisi — concealment." He regarded it. "A simple toy. But in this world it could serve the locals quite well, and the magical and material cost is minimal."
The wizard had no fear of anyone discovering the runes, for the concealment rune masked their presence entirely, replacing them with random symbols to any outside observer — and should anyone attempt to break through them, the artefact would simply self-destruct.
Grid had only come across the method for crafting this particular item by chance, through an acquaintance who had once plundered an ancient tomb and made himself wealthy on what he found there — this design had been among the schematics.
At first the tomb raider had assumed it was some powerful artefact, but after creating and studying it, he realised it was nothing more than a training toy for improving magical control, and a simple tool for gauging a young wizard's aptitude for auxiliary magic.
For mages it was merely a curiosity, but for ordinary people — villagers especially — it had served as a protective artefact capable of deflecting spells cast by a Master-rank wizard and shielding them from common magical creatures. At present, Grid's power was roughly equivalent to a weak Master — and Snape himself had been a rather talented young man to begin with.
From the knowledge left to him by the body's previous owner, he knew that a considerable number of wizards left the school after their O.W.L.s — most of them at the Journeyman level. An artefact like this could therefore have a very real market: beyond protection, the cube could also heal minor wounds. It wouldn't restore a severed arm, naturally, but a finger — pressed back into place — was another matter. And it required no magic from its user: it was bound simply by a drop of blood. It was the ideal protective artefact for this world, and one that promised to bring Grid a tidy profit.
But naturally, the young man had no intention of stopping there. He wanted to live a life of comfort — one in which money never needed to cross his mind. He had no shortage of ideas, but all of them required capital, and this was how he intended to earn his initial investment. Once that was in hand, he would put it toward his research.
"I'll make four more, and then I can sit back and see how the local wizards respond to my little toy."
That evening the mage produced two more cubes and went straight to sleep. The following morning he completed the last two, then transfigured all of them into black needles and slipped them into the inner pocket of his jacket. The remaining cubes he stowed in the wardrobe and under the bed, and after leaving his room, settled back into the library to continue his search.
As for the booklet he had taken from the four Marauders, he decided to leave it alone for now. He merely checked it for monitoring charms, then transfigured it into a white needle and added it to the rest. He would deal with it during the holidays, once he had left Hogwarts.
After sitting in the library until almost lunch and finding nothing of interest, he was just about to get up and head to the Great Hall for something to eat when a familiar voice stopped him.
"Mr. Snape." — The smiling Head of House approached. "How are you feeling?"
"Professor — I'm quite well. Madam Pomfrey had me back on my feet in no time."
"Glad to hear it. I see you're heading to lunch — care for some company?"
"I'd be delighted. As it happens, I have a few questions about Potion-making." — He used magic to return the books to their shelves and followed the Head of House out.
"Questions are always welcome. I'm listening."
"I've been working on a potion capable of doubling magical ability for a period of time."
"That's admirable."
"But to complete it I need a particular type of mushroom I came across in a book — its properties were the closest match to what I need, though the name wasn't given." — He produced a sheet of paper and, under Slughorn's mildly intrigued gaze, quickly sketched a mushroom with a thin cap. "The cap is red with black spots, the stalk is entirely grey, and the mycelium—"
"Hm… That mushroom is known as the Delusion Fungus. If a wizard consumes it, it triples their magical power — but death follows inevitably shortly after. I'm frankly amazed you found any description of it in a book." — the man murmured in surprise. "I take it you intend to use it as a base, weakening the effect in order to neutralise the toxic element… a sound idea in principle. But I'm afraid it won't work."
"Why not?"
"I had a similar idea once, and ultimately abandoned it. There is a way to eliminate the poison, but the potion becomes far too weak in the process," — the professor explained regretfully, looking at the young man's puzzled expression with a smile. "That said, I won't discourage you from trying. Perhaps you'll succeed where I didn't."
"I'll give it everything I have!" — the young wizard replied with a proud smile and a slight squaring of his shoulders, which drew an amused laugh from the professor.
"Good. If you have any questions along the way, you know where to find me."
"Of course. May I ask a few more while we walk?"
"I'm all ears."
"It's about white Mandrake — when I…"
For the next hour, Grid continued questioning the master Potioneer, though he was careful to stay within the bounds of the school curriculum and the books available in the library, and to conduct himself in a manner befitting Snape's age — for that was precisely how Severus had behaved when it came to Potions.
After lunch they parted ways. The Head of House, satisfied that Severus was in good health, returned to his office to continue his work, while Grid went back to the library. The end-of-year banquet was the following day, along with the final results — so he intended to spend every available hour there, searching for as much information as he could find on Salazar and his descendants.
Toward evening, just as Madam Pince was practically showing Grid the door, a woman in a black pointed hat appeared in the library.
"Mr. Snape, come with me. The Headmaster wishes to see you." — Minerva McGonagall, who was also Head of Gryffindor, looked at him with mild indifference.
"Is it urgent?" — the wizard asked with annoyance, looking up from his book, for he had at last found something interesting regarding Salazar — words left by him upon his departure from Hogwarts, taking the form of a rather complex anagram employing multiple scripts and languages. In two hours Grid had managed to decipher only a single word, and even that had been a chance discovery in a historical chronicle filled with quotations from great wizards. The word was "hidden," and the next began with "in…"
"Yes."
Snape sighed in disappointment, closed the book, returned it to the shelf, and did the same with all the others on the table.
"Could Professor Slughorn be called as well? I feel considerably more at ease with him present."
Hearing his words and seeing the distrust in Grid's eyes, the woman pressed her lips together, uncomfortable under his gaze. And when the memory of the incident two days prior came back to her, her mood sank further still. No — she bore no ill will toward Severus. The ill will was directed inward, at herself, for having been so prejudiced against him. And somewhere in the depths of her heart, the Head of House saw something of her own reflection in him. She too had once spent entire days in the library, and had very nearly been sorted into Ravenclaw for her sharp mind and love of learning.
"Very well. And… I also wished to apologise to you for that incident. My conduct was unbecoming."
"I understand. There's no need to apologise. Let's go and fetch Professor Slughorn — the Headmaster may already be waiting."
"That… yes."
Ten minutes later the three of them stood before the stone gargoyle on the second floor of the castle.
"Lemon drop," — Minerva said in a confident voice, a faint colour in her cheeks. Grid suppressed a smile with some effort.
Quite the cheerful old man.
The gargoyle's eyes lit up and it stepped aside, revealing a spiral wooden staircase. The moment the three wizards stepped onto it, it began to rise slowly — like a lift.
Seconds later they arrived at the Headmaster's office. Grid's attention was immediately drawn to the old man seated behind the desk.
A Magister… a weak one, granted, but I'm astonished such a wizard can exist in this world at all. It seems I was far too quick to underestimate the inhabitants here — I had assumed the most I might encounter would be peak Masters. In my world, he would certainly have reached the rank of Great Archmage. — While Grid believed the founders of Hogwarts had also been Magisters, Severus's memories contained a great deal of information indicating that the wizards of this era had grown considerably weaker than those of the past — which was precisely why the young man had previously assumed the highest he might encounter was a peak Master. The old man's power, which read clearly as Magister-level, therefore came as a genuine surprise.
He then shifted his gaze to the one other person in the room: Lily, who was watching the frowning Grid with undisguised wariness.
In Grid's world, the ranks of mages are: Apprentice, Journeyman, Master, Magister, Archmage, Great Archmage, Creator.