HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

June 1980, a sweltering night.

Severus was summoned at the last minute to urgently deal with a batch of materials contaminated by dark magic in a secluded warehouse in Knockturn Alley.

Ian didn't return until late at night, when he came back with an even stronger smell of decay and blood—not his own blood, but the materials themselves.

"They're preparing a 'feast'," Severus said to Ian, who was leaning against the bathroom door, amidst the sound of running water. His voice was muffled and cold through the water.

"To celebrate some 'great moment that's about to come.' We need a lot of... atmosphere-building stuff, the 'show' in charge of by Bellatrix."

Ian went over, turned off the water, and wrapped him in a dry towel.

"At what time?"

"He didn't say. But Lucius hinted that there would be a thorough... 'purge' before the end of this summer. The Ministry of Magic, and even Hogwarts."

Severus turned around, his wet black hair plastered to his forehead, water droplets sliding down his pale cheeks, his eyes unfathomable in the dim bathroom light. "Ian, I might... soon not be able to just stay in the lab anymore."

Ian cupped his face and wiped the water droplets from his chin with his thumb.

"Then let's go together, it's a promise."

A few days later, Mr. Bokin told Ian to close the shop early, saying hoarsely, "Don't wander around at night these next few days; Knockdown Alley isn't safe either."

Ian took several bottles of strong cleaning agent from the closet and asked casually, "Another 'big client' coming?"

Mr. Bokin glanced at him, his eyes darting around.

"Mind your own business, kid. The less you know, the better you sleep."

But Ian already understood.

He nodded calmly, locked the shop door, and walked through the alleyway that was falling silent earlier and earlier.

A restless atmosphere permeated the air, and even the number of patrolling Aurors seemed to have increased.

That very weekend, Professor Slughorn made a surprise visit to St. Mungo's, ostensibly to see an old colleague, but in reality, he secretly slipped Lydia a small bottle of rare ingredients for a euphoric drug and casually mentioned that he had heard the Potter family was expecting a happy event, and that the young Potters seemed very much looking forward to the "birth at the end of July."

Leah sent the message, along with the ingredients, to the Cotswolds via an inconspicuous owl.

Severus looked at the note and then looked up at Ian.

Ian was inspecting a newly purchased silver instrument when he noticed someone looking up.

"Lily?" Ian asked.

"Hmm," Severus responded, folding the note. "Potter had better be prepared."

His voice was flat, revealing little emotion.

But Ian knew that beneath those simple words lay the deepest concern for his friends far away, and a complex mix of emotions he couldn't express about the lives about to be born in that chaotic era.

As summer deepens, the cicadas' chirping grows louder each day, as if desperately screaming to drown out some kind of silent thunder that is approaching step by step.

Severus was ordered to prepare a batch of potions with "strong ritualistic" and "symbolic" significance by mid-July for "an important night".

He buried himself in the lab, while Ian helped him with the initial processing of the materials. The two didn't exchange many words, but every glance and every unintentional touch of their fingers conveyed silent support.

They didn't know which night it was, or what the "important" meant.

But the impending storm was already so thick it was impossible to ignore.

One night in late July 1980, Severus was once again urgently summoned.

This time, he returned as dawn was breaking, his face bearing an extremely complex expression.

"Ian." He walked to the bedside, still carrying the coolness of the night dew, and gently brushed his fingers across Ian's slightly furrowed brow as he slept.

Ian woke up immediately, his gray eyes looking at him clearly in the dim light.

“I overheard something… at the Hog’s Head, through the door, incomplete.” Severus’s voice was low and trembling with uncertainty. “Trillaun… a prophet, who made a prophecy before Dumbledore about… a boy born at the end of July, possessing powers unknown to the Dark Lord, capable of defeating him.”

Ian instantly became fully awake, sat up, and grasped his icy hand.

"Did Voldemort hear it too?" he asked, his heart pounding.

“I’m not sure how much he heard, but there were Death Eaters present, so the news must have reached his ears.” Severus’s breathing was a little rapid. “The prophecy mentioned ‘marking him as a formidable enemy’… Voldemort will choose that child, and he will go…”

He didn't finish his sentence, but Ian already understood.

A prophecy, a marked baby, and an imminent manhunt.

Is this the "great moment" Voldemort has been waiting for? Or is it the prophecy itself that ignited his final madness?

"Which child? Did the prophecy say who it was?" Ian pressed.

Severus shook his head. "'Born at the end of July'...there's more than one, but Voldemort will confirm it. He'll find the one he believes to be the one, Ian, if...if that is..."

He didn't say Lily's name, but the worry and fear in his eyes were impossible to hide.

Ian immediately covered Severus's clenched fist with his hand, gripping it tightly and enveloping the cold trembling in his palm.

"Don't panic," he said steadily, his gaze fixed on Severus's eyes. "Dumbledore knows the contents of the prophecy; he won't be unprepared."

"But that's Voldemort! He'll go...go find every child who might qualify!"

"Dumbledore will protect them." Ian said firmly, his other hand resting on Severus's tense nape, his fingertips massaging it with a soothing pressure. "What we can do now is tell Dumbledore immediately, let him know that the news has been leaked, and that the source of the leak may be among his immediate circle. This is more important than speculation."

Severus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, only calmness remained in his eyes.

"You're right," he released his grip, quickly stood up, "use the Guardian Angel, now."

Ian's bat Patronus pierced through the deepest darkness before dawn, bringing the message to Hogwarts.

The reply arrived that evening, delivered silently by Fawkes as before. Dumbledore's handwriting on the parchment appeared solemn yet swift.

"The message is received and is of utmost importance. Two families fit the prophecy: the Potters and the Longbottoms. They have been placed under the tightest protective spells and are aware of some of the risks. Remain vigilant and continue to monitor any developments related to this matter, especially Voldemort's attention to these two families. Do not reply. —AD"

"Dumbledore made preparations." Ian lit the parchment over the candlelight, watching it curl and char.

"There's not much we can do, Severus. Given your current position, it's better to stay put than to act. Any unusual attention to the Potters or the Longbottoms could be interpreted as you 'knowing something.'"

"I know," Severus said in a low, hoarse voice, "but I can't... just wait."

“It’s not about waiting.” Ian turned to face him. “It’s about watching. Use your eyes to see who Voldemort cares about more, where the Death Eaters are being mobilized, and every little movement is information.”