HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

Severus put down his spoon. "The Society has sent the first batch of copies of old manuscripts to be archived. Some of them are fragments of recipes recorded in ancient Rune script, which need to be translated and proofread."

"Ancient script like Nehemiah? Perfect, Aris is good at that. I can write to him later and ask, or have him cross-check it. That kid would definitely be happy to," Ian said. "And there's a reward, right?"

"A symbolic allowance, paid based on workload," Severus nodded, "but primarily privileges. Limited access to copies of the Society's internal archives, remotely requested and copied using specific quills and parchment."

"That's worth it," Ian smiled. "Knowledge is priceless. Looks like you've got a pretty full schedule this summer."

"Hmm," Severus responded, continuing to work on his ice cream.

After finishing their ice cream, the two went to replenish their parchment and special ink before returning home through the public fireplace in Diagon Alley.

……

This summer vacation was the most "fulfilling" Ian's vacation ever.

Severus demonstrated what it means to be "someone else's child" through his actions.

At seven o'clock in the morning, Ian was still dreaming of meeting Chocolate Frog, when he could already hear rustling noises coming from the next room.

By the time he drowsily floated downstairs, it was usually close to ten o'clock, while Severus had already been in the backyard workshop for almost three hours.

There's always breakfast left for him by Doraemon on the table, and sometimes there's an extra small dish of cut fruit next to it, clearly a healthy addition by Doraemon at Severus's suggestion.

"Mr. Severus says that Master Ian needs to take vitamins in the morning!" Dora would always puff out her chest and report in a high-pitched voice, her big eyes full of the implication that "look how sensible he is."

Leah and John would use the two-way mirror to keep in touch with their family every few days.

On the other end of the screen, Leah always asks Severus first, "Is the workspace convenient? If you need anything, don't hesitate to tell me."

Then he turned the camera to his son: "Ian, you didn't stay up all night playing Wizards chess with Severus, did you?"

Ian could only manage a dry laugh at his mother's knowing look in the mirror: "Of course not, Mom, our lives are perfectly healthy now."

Too healthy for his own good.

Severus's life was as regular as a wound-up toy. He would get up early, have breakfast, go to his workroom, have lunch, take a short break, then go back to his workroom, have dinner, and spend his evenings either organizing notes or reading, turning off the lights promptly before 11 p.m.

Ian tried to tempt him to take a break with excuses such as "Quidditch World Cup pre-season analysis", "review of the latest Sweep series broom", and even "discovering Doraemon's hidden raspberry jam in the kitchen", but his success rate was not high.

The only thing that could get Severus away from the workshop temporarily was the weekly material check and replenishment purchase day, and... Ian's potion practice.

This is a bit of a self-inflicted problem.

One afternoon, Ian was sprawled on the living room sofa reading "Joke Weekly" when Severus came out of his workroom for a drink of water and glanced at Ian's third-year potions textbook, which he had casually tossed on the coffee table.

"Have you read it?" Severus picked up the book and flipped through the table of contents.

"What are you looking at?" Ian peeked out from behind the newspaper.

"This semester we'll be learning about swelling potion, waking potion, and a variant of the basic antidote," Severus said calmly. "Professor Slughorn mentioned at the end of last semester that there might be a test on summer preparation during the first week of the semester."

The newspaper slipped from Ian's hand. "...Did he mention it?"

Severus answered him with his eyes.

"Okay," Ian sat up, scratching his head, "So... you've finished watching?"

"Hmm." Severus put down his water glass. "There are materials in the workshop. I've optimized the process. If you'd like..."

"I want to!" Ian immediately replied, leaping up from the sofa. "Let's go now! With you, the 'future potions master,' providing on-site guidance, it would be foolish not to take advantage of this."

The process... is too complicated to explain in a few words.

Ian often found himself scrambling amidst the smoke, strange smells, and Severus's monotone corrections.

On one occasion, he tried to secretly add a little more armadillo bile to "enhance the effect," but Severus saw through his plan immediately.

"If you want to create a small explosion and smell rotten eggs for the next week, go ahead," Severus said, standing next to him with his arms crossed.

Ian sheepishly withdrew his hand. "How did you see that? I clearly blocked it."

"Your stirring rhythm has changed." Severus took the stirring stick from his hand. "And, when you're feeling guilty, your ears twitch."

"My ears don't move!" Ian protested.

Severus ignored him and continued demonstrating the correct procedure.

Although the process was painful, the results were remarkable.

Ian finally managed to brew a potion of swelling medicine on his own.

"Not bad," Severus commented after his examination.

Ian almost framed the pot of medicine.

Besides preparing for potions, Severus's own research was also progressing steadily. The ancient runic manuscript fragments sent from the Potions Society took up a considerable amount of his time.

Ian had seen him burying his head in his desk, sitting for hours at a time staring at those distorted words, with reference books and scraps of paper filled with derivations piled up beside him.

"Need any help?" Ian asked casually as he brought him tea once. "Aris would definitely be interested in these things."

"Not for now." Severus didn't even look up, his quill pen never stopping. "The structure is very peculiar, like a mixture of several dialect variants. Let me outline the framework first."

But he would copy some particularly obscure symbols onto a separate sheet of paper and push it in front of Ian: "If you write to Aris, you can ask him about the common associations of this symbol in arithmetic divination; he might have information from a different perspective."

This became a regular part of their communications with Aris and Kevin.

Each time, Aris would send back a densely packed derivation process and a list of references, as rigorous as a thesis.

Kevin's letter was filled with Quidditch news and all sorts of the latest gossip from the wizarding world.

Lily also frequently wrote to share her interesting experiences volunteering in the Muggle community and taking care of the garden, inquired about the progress of Severus's research, and reminded him not to overwork himself.

One afternoon in late July, Ian had just finished a battle with the swelling potion and was cleaning the crucible when Dora suddenly appeared in the workshop doorway, shrilly, "A message! For Mr. Snape! With a special seal!"

An unfamiliar owl landed on the windowsill, with a gray envelope tied to its leg.

Severus took it, opened it, quickly glanced through it, and frowned slightly.

"Who is it?" Ian dried his hands and walked over.

"Regulus Black," Severus handed him the letter.

The letter was short, and the wording was polite but distant.

Regulus first congratulated him on gaining recognition from the Potions Society, and then mentioned that the Black family owned a property in Wiltshire with a private library containing some rare books about medieval Norse runes and their connection to potions.

He stated that if Severus encounters a bottleneck in his research or needs literature in a specific area, he can arrange a limited review after obtaining the family's consent, and ask Severus if he is interested in having a brief exchange at a convenient time.

"They've thrown out the bait." Ian folded the letter and handed it back. "What do you think?"