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The morning post arrived as usual, with a flurry of owls swooping into the Great Hall during breakfast. Not expecting any mail, Severus absentmindedly took another spoonful of eggs, his attention focused on reviewing his transfiguration notes for the exam later that day. While he felt confident that he was well-prepared, it never hurt to do a little extra revision, especially when it came to his weakest subject. Much to his godmother’s resigned acceptance, even with extra tutoring and office hour visits, Severus had never demonstrated a particular talent for the subject. His transfiguration skills were decent enough though, and he hoped to achieve at least an EE on his NEWT exam.
“Hey, Sev, I think you’ve got mail,” Remus informed him, tapping his shoulder.
Severus’ head whipped up, all thoughts of his transfiguration exam vanishing in an instant. His breath caught as he spotted a regal owl flying towards him, an expensive-looking envelope clutched in its beak. Could it be? The letter dropped at his place, and the seventh year picked it up with shaking fingers. His stomach clenched as he recognized the official seal of the Potions Guild of Britain.
“Are you going to open it?” Remus asked curiously.
Nodding wordlessly, Severus took a deep, steadying breath. With slightly trembling hands, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
Dear Mr. Severus Dumbledore,
We are pleased to inform you that your newest creation, Lupus Remedium, has been officially accepted by the Potions Guild of Britain due to its successful performance in our clinical trials. In collaboration with the Ministry of Magic, it is our honor to invite you to attend this year’s 1977 National Award Ceremony on the 21st of December, where you shall be presented with a Gold Cauldron and an Order of Merlin, Second Class, for your outstanding contribution to the magical community.
Our sincerest congratulations,
Hector Dagworth-Granger, Head of the Potions Guild of Britain
Harold Minchum, Minister of Magic
Severus stared numbly at the letter in his hands, hardly able to process its contents. This couldn’t be real. There was no way that the Potions Guild would present a Gold Cauldron to him, a seventh year Hogwarts student! Not to mention an Order of Merlin, Second Class. Maybe he was dreaming?
“Remus,” he requested, his voice sounding dazed and distant. “Please pinch me.”
A moment later, he leapt up from his seat with a loud yelp, ruefully rubbing at his stinging backside. “I said, pinch me, Remus, not send a stinging hex at me!” he scowled, glaring at his best friend.
“Sorry, mate,” Remus smirked. “But you were acting all weird, so I didn’t know if a pinch would be enough!”
“Prat,” Severus retorted, giving him the two-fingered salute before taking a seat again.
Remus sniggered in response, waving as James and Sirius came over to the Ravenclaw table to see what all the commotion was about.
“Hey Moony, what’s got Shadow here so worked up?” James grinned.
“I dunno, Prongs. All I know is that our resident potions prodigy received a mysterious letter and then asked me to pinch him,” Remus replied with an amused smile.
“Oooh, has our little Sevviekins received a love letter?” Sirius teased, slinging his arm around Severus’ shoulders and sitting down. “Do tell us who it’s from, Sevvie dear,” he begged playfully, batting his eyelashes.
Severus rolled his eyes at his friends’ antics. “It’s not a love letter, you berk. It’s… It’s from the Potions Guild. Here, read it yourself,” he finished quietly, handing over the letter.
Remus curiously took the parchment, quickly reading it through as James and Sirius peered over his shoulder. The letter fluttered to the table as all three teenagers turned to stare at their friend.
“Sev… your potion worked?” Remus whispered, his eyes glistening with hopeful tears.
Severus nodded. “According to the Potions Guild, it passed all of the clinical trials. There’s a cure for werewolves now, Remus,” he said softly.
Remus let out a choked sob as he threw himself into the potions prodigy’s arms, and soon all four friends were locked in an emotional embrace.
“Thank you, Severus. You’re the best mate anyone could ever ask for,” Remus murmured, his voice thick with tears.
“Yeah, mate. And a Gold Cauldron award from the Potions Guild! You must be the youngest recipient in the history of the award,” James breathed in awe. “My grandfather, the one who invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, always said that the Gold Cauldron winners are the brightest potioneers in all of Europe. And that’s you, Sev, at age seventeen.”
“Not to mention the Order of Merlin,” Sirius added reverently. “The last wizard who received an Order of Merlin was your dad, Sev, when he defeated Grindelwald.”
Severus shook his head in helpless disbelief. “I’m as shocked as you three. I never even imagined that this was a possibility. Now that the potion has been sanctioned, though, I can legally brew it for you before the next full moon, Remus!”
This set off a whole new round of tears as the four boys realized that Moony would never have to go through another painful transformation again. Remus would be permanently cured, and it was all thanks to Severus.
As the friends hugged each other tight, Severus noticed his dad and godmother coming over, both wearing rather worried expressions.
“Severus? Is everything all right?” Albus asked with concern.
“Is anyone hurt?” Minerva added, inspecting the four teenagers for injuries.
Severus shook his head, a teary smile on his face as he passed the letter to his dad and godmother. “My potion worked, Dad. There’s now a cure for werewolves.”
Severus’ lips quirked up as he entered the family room, his eyes falling on the holiday lights that adorned the room. He and his dad had decorated their Christmas tree on the first day of winter break, as was tradition, but the house elves had clearly outdone themselves while preparing for his ceremony afterparty.
“Oh Severus, my boy, there you are,” Horace called, taking him by the elbow. “You’re looking very dapper tonight, lad. I love the Slytherin robes and cufflinks,” he winked.
Severus grinned. “Thanks, Uncle Horace.” He was dressed in his favorite formal robes with an emerald green trim, and accenting his sleeves were the cauldron-engraved cufflinks his honorary uncle had gifted him for the National Award Ceremony earlier that evening.
“There’s someone who wants to speak with you, my dear boy,” Horace continued, a knowing smile on his lips. “One of my very esteemed colleagues who I’m sure you’ll recognize—Ah, Hector! As promised, here is young Severus,” he announced, nudging the teenager forward.
Severus’ eyes widened incredulously before he quickly collected himself and politely bowed. This was the renowned wizard who had presented him with his Gold Cauldron Award! “Potions Master Dagworth-Granger, it is a pleasure to have you in attendance at our humble celebration, sir,” he said reverently.
The Head of the Potions Guild chuckled. “It is I who should be honored to attend the celebration of such a promising future potions master, Mr. Dumbledore. A cure for lycanthropy has eluded many generations of potions masters, yet at only seventeen years of age, you have accomplished this incredible feat. As I tell all of our Cauldron Award winners, you are welcome to call me Hector.”
Severus nodded dumbly, hardly able to believe that he’d just been given permission to use the Head of the Potions Guild of Britain’s first name. This was quite possibly the most famous potioneer in the last century! “T-Thank you, sir.” At the potions master’s teasing look, he hastily amended his response. “I-I mean Hector. Thank you, Hector. And please call me Severus. Only if you’d like, of course,” he rushed out awkwardly, eliciting an amused yet kind smile from the older wizard. The teenager felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as he inwardly cursed himself for acting like such a foolish dunderhead. Get it together, Severus, he told himself sternly.
“Tell me, young man, what would you say is the key ingredient to your potion, and why do you think so?” Hector questioned suddenly, his demeanor abruptly shifting from casual to evaluating.
Severus took a deep breath, thinking carefully before answering. He could tell that this was a test of some sort, and he didn’t want to mess it up. “I would say the unicorn hair is the catalyst, sir,” he stated after a short pause. “When combined with the aconite and brought to a boil, the elements of both compounds create a single replacement reaction which stabilizes the potion to a level that allows for more control. Without the unicorn hair, the potion would remain relatively unstable which would prevent the dittany from counteracting the dark magic encircling a werewolf’s magical core.” The teenager nervously glanced at the wizard as he finished speaking, trying not to squirm under the potions master’s intense scrutiny.
“Very well-reasoned, Severus,” Hector said at last, his expression unreadable except for a slight quirk of his lips. “And what inspired your inclusion of unicorn hair? To the best of my knowledge, this ingredient has never been used before in previous attempts at a cure for lycanthropy.”
The Ravenclaw hummed faintly at the memory. Some months ago, with his Uncle Horace’s permission, he had been walking through the Forbidden Forest to collect some relatively rare plants that only bloomed at night. Unknowingly, he had come across the exact same spot where, eleven years ago, he had almost been killed by acromantulas after being abducted by a wannabe Death Eater. Moonstone, the injured unicorn who had taken a liking to six-year-old Severus when they’d met behind Hagrid’s hut, had saved his life that night by carrying him to the forest’s edge.
Severus had never expected to see the unicorn again after that night, but just for a moment, the seventeen-year-old swore that he had seen Moonstone’s ethereal figure standing in the clearing, watching him. A familiar feeling of warmth and comfort had filled his body, and he’d closed his eyes, embracing the long-lost connection. When he’d looked up again, Moonstone had vanished, making him wonder if he had imagined the entire experience. It was only on his way back to the castle that he had stumbled across the only trace of the Moonstone’s presence—a few strands of unicorn hair in the branches nearby.
“I was inspired by a friend, sir,” Severus answered finally, meeting the potions master’s assessing gaze unwaveringly. “A very special friend.”
Hector nodded but didn’t ask for any more details, seeming to understand that it was a personal matter. “Well, Severus, you seem to be a fine young man with a very promising future,” he declared confidently. “Horace only had the highest of praise for your skills when I inquired, and it is clear that you understand the theoretical and practical aspects of brewing to an advanced degree. As such, I have decided to make you an offer, which I hope you will accept.”
Severus quirked his head, wondering what the potions master could possibly be offering him. He was still a student at Hogwarts, after all. “Sir?”
“Your potions professor has informed me that you are planning to pursue a mastery in potions but are waiting until your NEWT exams in the spring,” Hector explained. “However, given that you are most certainly guaranteed an O on your Potions NEWT, I would like to offer you an apprenticeship once you have graduated from Hogwarts.”
Severus’ mouth dropped open in an undignified manner as he positively gaped at the man. Was the Hector Dagworth-Granger actually offering him an apprenticeship?
“You don’t have to give me your answer until you graduate—”
“No, sir!” Severus interrupted, finally regaining control of his mouth again. “I mean, I don’t need until I graduate to decide. I would be thrilled to accept an apprenticeship with you!” he exclaimed, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. “Are you really sure?”
The older wizard nodded, a pleased smile on his face. “I have not made this decision lightly, Severus. You have talent and ingenuity that I have not seen in decades, and I am eager to have you as my apprentice. Now that I have your answer, I am afraid I must attend to other business, but expect an owl sometime after Yule.”
As the wizard left the party, Severus could only stand there gaping, absolutely speechless. “Did… Did that really just happen?” he asked faintly, glancing at his dad who had come up from behind him and was resting a hand on his shoulder.
Albus chuckled. “Indeed, it did. Congratulations, my boy. And thank you for your role in this, Horace.”
“Yes, thank you so much, Uncle Horace! This is a dream come true,” Severus breathed, giving the man a big hug.
Horace beamed at him. “It was my pleasure, Severus. Just don’t forget about your ol’ Uncle Horace when you become the most renowned potions master in the world,” he teased.
Severus laughed, shaking his head. “Of course not, Uncle Horace. How could I ever forget the man who made me scrub 100 cauldrons when I was twelve just for an accidental potions explosion that covered you in sticky green slime?”
Horace chuckled. “That’s the spirit, lad. Now, go mingle with your friends and guests. We can talk more about this apprenticeship later.”
Severus nodded and moved to greet his other guests, rolling his eyes as his dad corrected his posture and straightened his tie. Besides the other professors, Remus’ parents, Hope and Lyall Lupin were both in attendance, as were James’ parents, Charlus and Dorea Potter. The Black family had not been invited, due to Sirius’ strained relationship with his family, but the Potter couple had unofficially adopted Sirius as their own, so the two Gryffindor Marauders now lived together at Potter Manor, much to their delight. Lastly, there were a few Ministry personnel at the celebration, but thankfully, it was mostly limited to family friends, so he didn’t have to suffer the company of too many dunderheads.
“Not quite yet, Severus,” Albus scolded lightly as the teenager made a hopeful beeline for his friends. “It would be impolite to not properly greet the rest of your guests.”
Severus silently groaned as he was steered towards the last cluster of adults, wishing that his father hadn’t insisted on inviting so many people. With a firm nudge from behind, he reluctantly stepped forward and bowed slightly in greeting. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending my celebration. I am honored that you could make it,” he recited dutifully, plastering a charming smile on his face.
His godmother had forced him to take etiquette lessons over the past summer, and now he was constantly being reminded of the proper decorum for a young wizard. Even worse, she’d convinced his dad that he needed to improve his manners, so now he couldn’t even get away with forgetting to place his napkin in his lap without getting scolded. The most humiliating of the summer etiquette sessions had been the week on social formals, though. Severus wasn’t sure if he would ever forgive his Aunt Minerva for signing him up for ballroom dance lessons.
“Ah, the young man of the evening,” one of the Ministry wizards exclaimed, shaking his hand. “Congratulations on your accomplishment!”
“Thank you, sir,” Severus responded respectfully. Maybe his name was Scrimgor? Scrimgeour? The teenager honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. He would much prefer to be spending time with his mates and eating his favorite sticky toffee pudding, but he knew that his father would disapprove of him excusing himself so quickly. Damn social etiquette.
After what felt like hours of nodding politely and smiling as the adults chatted on and on about dull, boring topics, Severus was beginning to wish that he had never even received an award. Giving his dad a pleading look, he inwardly sighed with relief as he was finally given a nod of approval to excuse himself and join his friends.
“There you are, Sev. I thought you’d be talking with the adults until midnight!” James exclaimed.
Severus rolled his eyes. “I know, mate. Dad wouldn’t let me come over here until I ‘properly greeted’ all of our guests. Bloody etiquette lessons and all.”
Sirius smirked. “I do hope you remembered how to properly bow and greet the ladies,” he mocked teasingly, being familiar with etiquette lessons from his own childhood.
The Ravenclaw playfully shoved his friend. “Sod off, Padfoot. I heard that my godmother has given the Potters the etiquette instructor’s contact information, so you’re not out of danger yet,” he warned, smiling smugly at the other boy’s horrified expression.
“Say Sev, who was that wizard you were talking to earlier with Professor Slughorn?” Remus asked.
Severus grinned widely. “That was the Head of the Potions Guild of Britain. And get this—he offered me an apprenticeship once I graduate!”
“Wow mate, congratulations!” James whistled.
“Congrats, Shadow, that’s freaking amazing!” Sirius cheered, clapping him on the back.
“There’s no one who deserves that apprenticeship more than you, Severus,” Remus added sincerely. “What you’ve done for the werewolf community is just—well, you’ve opened up a whole new future of possibilities for werewolves like me, and I can’t thank you enough,” he finished thickly, his voice choking up at the end. “I have a real future now.”
Severus met his friend’s eyes with a heartfelt smile. “I promised you that I would find a cure back when we were six, Remus. And I wasn’t going to stop until I did,” he replied softly. “Besides, you’re one of my best mates. I’d do anything for you three,” he grinned, gesturing to them all.
“Group hug!” Sirius shouted happily, interrupting the moment as he pulled them all into a doggy pile.
Laughing, Severus let himself be tugged into the embrace, feeling incredibly grateful for his amazing friends. “Want to go check out the desserts?” he asked a moment later. “I think I spotted sticky toffee pudding.”
“Sure, mate. We all know how much you love your pudding,” Remus teased.
“Yeah, and it’ll give us a chance to spike the punch,” James whispered conspiratorially, slinging an arm around his shoulder.
Severus rolled his eyes, pausing reluctantly as he heard his dad call his name. “I’ll meet you there in a minute, Prongs,” he sighed, giving the dessert table a forlorn glance. Resigning himself to yet another conversation before he was allowed his sticky toffee pudding, the teenager reluctantly walked over to where his dad and godmother stood talking to friends. “Yes, Dad?”
“Oh, there you are, my boy. I was just showing Director Bones here this wonderful drawing you made for me when you were six,” Albus said cheerfully.
Severus’ face reddened as his eyes fell on the childishly drawn picture of him and his dad snuggling on the couch together. “Dad, you kept that drawing?” he hissed, absolutely mortified. Dear Merlin, why was his dad showing his artwork from his six-year-old self to his housemate Amelia Bones’ mother, who also happened to be the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?!
“Of course, I kept it, my boy! It’s my absolute favorite drawing of yours. From our first Christmas together,” Albus said happily. “It usually resides at my bedside table, but I just had to bring it out for this occasion.”
Severus smiled weakly, holding back his groan as his dad passed his drawing around to the circle of adults. He was never going to live this down.
“Oh yes, Severus was such a sweet, thoughtful child, even at age six. In fact, the scarf I’m currently wearing was also a gift from Severus when he celebrated his first Christmas with us,” Minerva added fondly. “And just look at him now! Our little Sevvie is all grown up,” she teased, pinching his cheeks.
“Aunt Minerva!” Severus protested, his cheeks flushing bright red as he batted her hands away. Merlin, why did his family have to be so embarrassing? Especially in front of guests!
“I’m afraid you’ll always be our little boy, Severus,” Albus chuckled, ruffling his hair.
The teenager huffed, crossing his arms and trying very hard not to sulk. Honestly. Was it too much to ask that his dad and godmother not bring up all of his childhood stories when they had company over?
Thankfully, James called his name just then, and he gratefully excused himself and practically bolted for the dessert table. The only thing he’d wanted all evening was a nice sticky toffee pudding, and by Merlin, he was going to get his damn sticky toffee pudding. Besides, the Marauders had one last prank to play before the new year, and he wasn’t about to miss it.
A few hours later, as the party started to wind down, Severus found himself sitting on the couch next to his dad, relaxing in the peaceful ambience of the crackling fire and twinkling Christmas tree lights.
“Have a good time, Sev?” Albus asked with a warm smile.
Severus grinned. “Yeah, Dad. Thanks for organizing the party.”
“You’re most welcome, my boy. Anything for my—”
“James Potter and Sirius Black!” a familiar voice roared, interrupting whatever his dad had been about to say.
Severus’ head snapped around, his eyes dancing with amusement as he took in the commotion. James and Sirius were clearly rather tipsy, and his godmother did not look pleased.
“Is this Firewhisky I’m detecting in the punch? You boys are not yet of age!” Minerva shouted.
“But Minnie,” James responded impishly, the alcohol clearly giving the Gryffindor some liquid courage. “Sirius is of age, and Sev turned seventeen earlier this month, remember?”
Severus bit back a laugh as his godmother shot off a stinging hex, the spell connecting solidly with his friend’s backside.
“Ow, that hurts, Minnie!” James whined.
“ Mr. Potter, I am still your professor, therefore you shall call me Professor McGonagall. And of course, I know when my godson’s birthday is,” the transfiguration professor said stiffly.
The potions prodigy inwardly smirked, willing to bet quite a lot that his godmother had forgotten that he was now seventeen. It was an understandable mistake though, seeing as how he had only just recently discovered that his birth date had been incorrectly recorded. While Severus’ mother had always told him that his birthday was on January 9th, Gringotts had sent a letter on December 9th notifying him that per the Prince Family Charter, the Prince Estate, which consisted mainly of potions texts, was to be inherited by the sole heir as soon as the heir came of age. Given that Gringotts had the magically updating Prince Family Tree, it was evident that the muggle hospital where he'd been born must have made a mistake on his birth certificate.
“And just where did you get this alcohol, Mr. Potter?” Minerva snapped, drawing Severus’ attention back to the scene. “Did Mr. Black or my godson smuggle it into the castle for you?”
Sirius hastily shook his head, groaning when the transfiguration professor flicked her wand and firewhisky shot bottles started flying out of his robe pockets.
Poor Remus looked horrified as a few bottles flew out of his pockets as well. “I swear Professor, I didn’t have anything to do with this!” he pleaded as Minerva rounded on the prefect, her fury evident.
The transfiguration professor nodded curtly before turning back to the other two boys with a thunderous expression. “You two are in so much trouble, do you hear me? I’ve half a mind to make you scrub the hospital wing bedpans…”
Severus laughed as he watched the familiar scene, sharing an amused glance with his dad as their gazes met.
“You didn’t have anything to do with these illicit firewhisky shots making their way into the castle, did you, my boy?” Albus asked, his eyes twinkling knowingly.
The seventh year grinned, an innocent look in his eyes. “Who, me?”
Albus chuckled in response, ruffling the teenager’s hair as his son rested his head against his chest. “I love you, Sev.”
Severus smiled as he leaned into his dad’s side, snuggling closer as his father wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders. “I love you too, Dad.”
Some things would never change.