1976
After receiving his OWL results, Severus visited Petunia, who revealed her ambitious plans for the next two years. She had graduated from Mahoutokoro two years ahead of schedule and had been recruited as an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries. Due to the secrecy clause she had signed, which would take effect after the summer of before 1976, she could not disclose any further details. Hearing this, Severus felt a growing sense of pressure. Determined not to fall behind, he used the summer to visit the ICW and gather the necessary information to begin his own mastery in potion-making.
The path to becoming a Potion Master was never an easy one, let alone for someone attempting to circumvent traditional apprenticeship and forge ahead with sheer knowledge, skill, and determination. Severus knew this well. The moment he stepped into the hallowed halls of the Potions Guild’s main office, he could feel the weight of expectation and skepticism pressing against him like an unbearable vice.
As a Potion Master in his previous life, Severus had set an unprecedented record as the youngest master of the century. This time, he aimed to surpass even that feat by earning his mastery before graduating from Hogwarts. After obtaining his NEWTs, he went straight to the Potions Guild main office to begin his training. With his mother also being a Potion Master, he needed to prove not only his extensive knowledge but also his ability to create new potions from his own research.
Instead of taking the conventional route of becoming an apprentice, Severus chose to subject himself to the rigorous scrutiny of the Potions Guild main office, where any master could critique his work and test his abilities at any moment. To demonstrate his originality, he decided to recreate Veritaserum—the very potion that had earned him his mastery in his previous life.
At first, the guild masters were unimpressed. To them, his approach was foolish and arrogant. They ridiculed his belief that he could outpace the established system. But Severus was not an ordinary teenager—he had been a master spy, the Bat of the Dungeons, and a professor who had instilled fear in generations of students. These old coots would not intimidate him.
Severus systematically passed every challenge presented by the skeptical masters. His ability to counter their jabs with sharp sarcasm and his extraordinary talent in manipulating ingredients gradually earned him their begrudging respect. However, despite his growing reputation, many still doubted whether he could complete a flawless original potion before the summer’s end.
With relentless dedication, Severus spent sleepless nights perfecting Veritaserum. He worked tirelessly, refining and improving the potion, ensuring its efficacy surpassed all existing versions. At the end of the summer, he successfully submitted his work, along with multiple shortcuts and corrections to existing potions, securing his mastery.
But he was not done. In his relentless pursuit of excellence, Severus also submitted seven newly crafted spells to the Spellcrafting Guild, determined to study for a mastery in that field as well. For Severus Snape, the summer before 1976 was not just a test of his abilities—it was the foundation of his legacy.
- SectumSempra. This spell is a dark curse and there are many arguments that it would even have been listed in the list of unforgivable ones, if it were known. It produces an effect as if the target is cut deep by small invisible blades, after which it starts losing blood fast and remains motionless.
- Vulnera Sanentur. It heals and reverses the effects of the curse. It reverses the blood flow, as we see in the movie, and heals the wounds. The incantation needs to be spoken three times
- Levicorpus.it hoists up the target by its ankle, leaving it dangling in the air upside down.
- Liberacorpus.Liberacorpus is the counter curse for the Levicorpus and it serves to free the target from being hoisted up in the air by its ankle.
- Muffliato.This spell enchants the casters vicinity so that anyone who enters the area has their ears filled with an unidentifiable sound or buzzing. It prevents any eavesdropping, and it can even be used for greater purposes, to create confusion among enemies, or to enable sneaking and such feats.
- Langlock. its effect is to lock the target’s tongue by sticking it to the roof of the mouth.
- Toenail-growing Hex. this spell for some particular purpose, yet its effects, although seemingly only annoying, could potentially be dangerous, for the spell theoretically could prevent the target from walking properly.
Sirius Black’s summer before sixth year was supposed to be all about his heir lessons—lectures on the intricacies of pureblood politics, the importance of maintaining the Black family name, and endless drills on decorum. But Sirius had other plans.
His father, Orion, might have thought he could cage Sirius with dusty tomes and tradition, but the moment Orion got lost in another drawn-out discussion with his associates, Sirius was gone.
He’d slip through the cracks of Grimmauld Place, sometimes sneaking out the front door under a Disillusionment Charm, other times slipping through a side alley with the help of a carefully memorized apparition point. The muggle world called to him like a song he had yet to learn the words to.
One night, he found himself in Camden, ears filled with the pulse of music so raw it made his blood hum. He’d followed the sound into a dimly lit pub where a band was thrashing out something electric and untamed. The music wasn’t polished like the Black family’s rehearsed waltzes—it was wild, unfiltered emotion, a scream of defiance set to a killer guitar riff. It felt like freedom. He wanted more.
Last summer, Sirius collected records like trophies, stuffing them under the floorboards of his room back at Grimmauld Place. Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, The Who, David Bowie—each one a revelation, each song an anthem of rebellion against the life his parents had forced on him.
Music wasn’t enough, though. He wanted to wear his defiance like a second skin. It started with eyeliner. He saw a bloke in a club, dark smudges making his eyes look even sharper, even wilder. The next time he passed by a mirror, Sirius tried it himself. The effect was instant—dangerous, dramatic, the kind of look that made his father’s lips thin with disapproval.
Then came the piercings. The first was an impulse—a dingy little shop with a bored-looking girl who pushed a needle through his earlobe while a punk song blasted through the speakers. It hurt, but Sirius only grinned at his reflection in the shop’s cracked mirror. One earring became two, then three. A statement. A middle finger to everything his family stood for.
The tattoos took longer. He spent hours sketching them, tracing patterns onto his skin with ink that would wash away before he could commit. But eventually, he found someone who didn’t ask too many questions, just took one look at Sirius’s gleaming eyes and knew—this was a boy who wanted to carve his own story into his skin. The first tattoo was small, hidden behind his neck. A star, rebellious and burning. This summer in Camden, he started to design his next tattoo. Last summer, he clicked with the bikers, the riders took him like newbie in London and let him hang out with them.
This summer in Camden started with a stolen ride. One of the regulars at the pub had left his bike outside, the chrome gleaming under the streetlights. Sirius had been watching them ride in for weeks, mesmerized by the way the machine roared to life, how the wind tangled through their hair like they were untouchable. He ran his fingers over the handlebars, the hum of potential thrumming beneath his fingertips. And then, before he could think better of it, he swung a leg over the seat and kicked it to life. The engine growled, a sound that sent a thrill straight through his bones.
He took off into the London night, the city blurring past him in streaks of neon and shadows. There was no cage of Grimmauld Place, no pureblood expectations pressing down on him—just speed, just freedom. He was reckless that first night, laughing wildly as he wove through traffic, the sound of the engine harmonizing with the music still ringing in his ears.
From that moment, he was hooked. He learned the mechanics, spent stolen hours in garages talking to muggle mechanics who didn’t care about his bloodline, only that he wanted to ride. He saved up, bartering and charming his way into his first real bike—a beaten-up thing that he lovingly restored, piece by piece, until it roared beneath him like a creature of his own making.
Despite never taking his heir lessons seriously—pun very much intended—Sirius was always aware of the political moves his family was making. And while he’d never admit it too loudly, he was low-key excited about the changes taking place within the House of Black after his mother had been removed as matriarch. His grandfather, Arcturus, was far more pragmatic than most of the old families still clinging to outdated ideals of blood purity. While he wasn’t exactly progressive, he was willing to adapt to the shifting tides of the times, and for Sirius, that was a damn sight better than the rigid fanaticism of Walburga.
Under this new leadership, the Black family was evolving. Andromeda and Ted had started a business venture with vampires, supplying them with ethically sourced blood through a regulated blood bank—a move that had raised more than a few aristocratic eyebrows but proved to be both lucrative and diplomatically advantageous. Bellatrix, rather than being trapped in a marriage she despised, was traveling the world, studying various branches of magic, her hunger for knowledge leading her far beyond the constraints of the Dark Arts alone. Meanwhile, Narcissa was meticulously preparing for her wedding next year, balancing her upcoming union with a serious pursuit of higher education, proving that being a wife didn’t mean giving up ambition.
For the first time in his life, Sirius found himself looking at his family with something other than disdain. They were still far from perfect—centuries of tradition didn’t just disappear overnight—but at least now, they were moving. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to run as far as he once thought to escape them.
Cygnus and Druella Black had never been particularly fond of creatures, but they were nothing if not pragmatic. After a well-placed recommendation from Gringotts, they decided to invest in land and develop high-end apartments to sell directed to muggleborns constructed and secured by Gringotts and with expanding wizarding space, they became the most sought out places to live for young wizards. At first, it was merely another business venture, a way to further multiply the Black family's already considerable wealth. But after witnessing the surprising success of Andromeda and Ted’s partnership with the vampires in the blood bank industry, they realized there was an untapped market they had previously ignored—one that could be just as lucrative.
With recent changes in magical law granting more rights to non-human beings, creatures were now allowed to purchase property and run businesses legally. This shift presented an opportunity that Cygnus and Druella, despite their personal biases, could not afford to ignore. Their real estate enterprise quickly flourished, drawing in goblins, vampires, and even the occasional werewolf looking for a stable place to live or set up shop.
What began as a calculated financial move soon evolved into something far greater. The Black family's influence within the creature community expanded alongside their wealth, securing valuable alliances that even the most conservative pure-blood families had overlooked. While they still maintained a level of aristocratic detachment, Cygnus and Druella could not deny the advantages of this new endeavor. It was one thing to scorn the changing world—but it was far more rewarding to profit from it.
Cygnus and Druella Black had never been visionaries of social progress, but they were intelligent enough to recognize opportunity when it knocked. After seeing the financial success of Andromeda and Ted’s business with the vampires and receiving strategic advice from Gringotts, they decided to take their ambitions a step further. Rather than merely investing in property, they embarked on a grander endeavor—creating self-sustaining wizarding communities.
With the help of goblins and creature representatives, the Blacks designed small magical cities tailored to various populations, ensuring that each had the infrastructure needed for its residents to thrive. Every city would be divided into four zones: one for muggleborns, one for vampires, one for werewolves, and a central commercial district. The werewolf sector was designed with safety in mind, incorporating secure transformations areas and a dedicated forest for full moons. The muggleborn zone included parks, libraries, and cultural spaces to ease their transition into the wizarding world. The vampire quarter was equipped with specialized housing and a reliable blood bank to support their needs. Meanwhile, the commercial zone provided shops, restaurants, and businesses that catered to all residents, promoting interaction and economic growth.
At the heart of each city was an enchanted space dedicated to games, performances, and public gatherings—designed to foster community rather than segregation. The Blacks launched their first trial with five of these small magical cities, strategically placing them over Watford, Chelmsford, Crawley, Luton, and Slough rather than directly in London. The decision ensured that the projects remained distinct from the traditional wizarding strongholds while also allowing for greater expansion in the future.
As their ventures flourished, so did their standing. Cygnus and Druella, once bound by the rigid expectations of their old-world peers, found themselves walking with newfound confidence at family meetings. The respect and prestige they gained from their success granted them a stronger voice within the Black family, allowing them to assert themselves without deference to those who still clung to outdated traditions. Cygnus, in particular, felt a quiet satisfaction—while he had never been the heir, he had carved out his own legacy.
Though he was far from a champion of muggleborn or creature rights, Cygnus saw the undeniable economic benefits of listening to his son-in-law, Theodore, whose progressive thinking had laid the foundation for this endeavor. What had once seemed like radical ideas were now proving to be some of the most profitable ventures the Black family had ever undertaken. And if profit and influence were the price of progress, Cygnus Black was more than happy to pay it.
The Macmillan family traditionally maintained a position between neutrality and light in the political spectrum of the wizarding world. Their stance remained largely unchanged even after incorporating Lily and Petunia Evans into their family. However, their understanding of the Muggle world and culture expanded significantly, leading them to diversify their financial investments. Under Petunia’s persuasion, they began to include a modest portion of Muggle stocks in their portfolio. In recent years, the family patriarch has shifted closer to the neutral faction, influenced by the societal changes affecting the wizarding world.
On the other hand, the Prewett family was firmly aligned with the light faction for generations. However, after welcoming the Evans family into their fold, the patriarch took a more moderate stance in political matters. This shift was driven by both practical and ideological considerations. Petunia’s keen financial insight helped the Prewetts significantly increase their wealth through strategic Muggle investments. These efforts not only elevated their standing from the lowest rank of the Sacred Twenty-Eight to a comfortable middle-tier position in terms of wealth but also broadened their social and political connections. Their more centrist approach allowed them to engage with a wider array of influential figures, further strengthening their status within wizarding society.
Upon their introduction to the magical world, Margaret and Harold Evans discovered their own inheritances—Margaret receiving 18,000 Galleons and Harold 36,000 Galleons. With their combined wealth amounting to approximately £270,000, they promptly paid off their £5,000 mortgage and contracted Gringotts to renovate and expand their home based on Eileen Snape’s suggestions. Additionally, they arranged for the property to be warded, ensuring both of their daughters’ safety and peace of mind. While they were not fully integrated into the magical community, they were aware of the rising tensions surrounding an emerging Dark Lord who sought to incite civil war.
Recognizing that their daughters’ inheritances would fully cover their education, the Evanses strategically invested their own wealth across both the magical and Muggle worlds. They allocated half of their funds to the Muggle economy, where government bonds were yielding a 7% interest rate. Over the past five years, their Muggle investments had doubled in value. With their newfound financial success, Margaret Evans and Eileen Snape dedicated resources to improving their local community in Cokeworth. They generously donated to enhance local schools and hospitals, purchased land to establish hostels and restaurants, and employed many of the city's unemployed residents.
Tobias Snape and Harold Evans took charge of the majority of business negotiations, as women were not widely respected in that arena. Harold, having secured financial stability, chose to retire early and fully support his wife’s business ventures while also mentoring Tobias on becoming a better husband and father. The close relationship between the Evans and Snape families fostered a strong support system, allowing both households to flourish.
Eileen Snape’s personal savings from her potion sales, coupled with her investments, lifted the Snape family out of poverty by the time Severus began his schooling. After reconciling with her maternal Prince family and receiving her dowry, Eileen and Tobias decided to relocate to a better home closer to the Evanses. They incorporated magical renovations, including expanded wizarding space and protective warding. After attaining her Potions Mastery, Eileen further invested in an advanced potion laboratory within her home and entrusted Tobias with managing her business affairs, ensuring he gained financial acumen and a sense of purpose in contributing to their household.
By 1975, the Evans and Snape families had become the wealthiest in their city. Their contributions to business, education, and healthcare earned them immense prestige and solidified their reputations as benefactors dedicated to the betterment of their community.
In the magical community, the Evans and Snape families leveraged their wealth and innovative thinking to introduce groundbreaking economic initiatives. Recognizing the potential for integrating Muggle efficiency with wizarding traditions, they established multiple ventures that revolutionized daily life for witches and wizards across Britain.
The Evans family spearheaded the introduction of Muggle stationery into the magical world, forming partnerships with Squibs who understood both societies. They launched an initiative that brought five essential Muggle products into mainstream wizarding use:
- Notebooks – Unlike cumbersome rolls of parchment, notebooks provided a compact and organized means for students and professionals to record their work, quickly becoming a staple in both Hogwarts and government institutions like the Ministry of Magic.
- Pens and Pencils – The ink-and-quill system, while traditional, was slow and messy. With self-inking pens and charmed everlasting pencils, magical folk found an easier and more efficient way to write without constant ink spills or broken nibs.
- Calculators – While Arithmancers relied on mental calculations and enchanted abacuses, Muggle calculators—enhanced with minor magical modifications—proved invaluable for potion-making, spell crafting, and financial accounting.
- Art and Craft Supplies – Spellcrafting, runic inscription, and even wand-making benefited from precise drawing tools and materials, allowing artisans to refine their work with newfound accuracy.
- Desk Organizers, Paper, and Envelopes – The introduction of filing systems and structured office supplies significantly improved efficiency in both personal and professional settings, particularly within Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic.
These innovations met initial resistance from staunch traditionalists, but their practicality quickly won over even the most skeptical wizards. The Evanses employed Squibs as liaisons, ensuring that the transition was smooth and culturally respectful, while also providing these individuals with stable careers in the magical economy.
Meanwhile, the Snapes took an equally pioneering approach by revolutionizing potion ingredient cultivation. Severus Snape’s keen understanding of magical botany, combined with Eileen’s Potions Mastery, led them to an unconventional yet highly effective workforce: werewolves. By employing lycanthropes to cultivate, harvest, and prepare rare potion ingredients—particularly those requiring high stamina or resistance to hazardous environments—the Snapes not only addressed a longstanding societal issue but also boosted the potion industry’s output. Their werewolf employees, provided with Wolfsbane Potion as part of their compensation, gained stable incomes and social acceptance, challenging prejudices that had long plagued their kind.
Together, the Evans and Snape families ushered in a new era of progress in the magical world, proving that innovation and inclusivity could drive prosperity for all.
When Petunia started her as new apprentice to the Unspeakables, she felt a thrill unlike any she had ever known. Here, in the depths of the Ministry of Magic, she was no longer bound by the limitations imposed by others. Petunia Evans had never been one to settle for mediocrity, no matter what the world thought of her. She had the chance to carve her own legacy. Her first weeks were grueling. The Unspeakables did not suffer incompetence lightly. The initiation was filled with relentless tests: memorizing ancient runes that shifted of their own accord, navigating hallways that twisted like living creatures, and enduring rigorous mental fortitude exercises to withstand the maddening whispers of time and space themselves. Petunia had studied magic with a fervor that belied her late start, but even she had to admit—this was beyond anything she had imagined.
Now as graduate of Mahoukotoro, her primary focus was in the Hall of Prophecy. The delicate globes of swirling mist contained echoes of futures both possible and inevitable. Her mentor, a reserved man known only as Kanata, instructed her on their fragile nature. “Prophecies,” he told her, “exist in a constant state of tension between fate and free will. To handle them is to court the very nature of destiny itself.”
But Petunia was no ordinary Seer. Her Shafiq heritage had granted her a unique ability—the power to write visions of all dimensions, transcending the limits of traditional foresight. Unlike other Seers who merely glimpsed the future, Petunia could inscribe the possibilities, solidifying them in ink and parchment. This talent set her apart, making her both an asset and a mystery to the Unspeakables. Could recorded visions alter reality? Could she document the unseen paths of magic itself?
Petunia learned quickly, but questions burned in her mind. Could she find a way to interpret prophecies without the need for a Seer? Could magic be manipulated to influence fate? The Department was full of rules—rules that no one seemed to question. But Petunia had spent her whole life questioning.
As months passed, she gained clearance to other halls. The Hall of Time fascinated her most. The great, shimmering hourglasses contained the ebb and flow of time itself, but none were permitted to touch them. She watched as more seasoned Unspeakables observed the mysterious bell jar, where objects and creatures shifted between infancy and old age in an endless cycle. If she could understand the nature of time, perhaps she could master it.
Beyond time, she began to study space and dimensional travel, uncovering hidden doorways that led to parallel worlds and forgotten eras. Ancient maps of the cosmos revealed lost gateways, their entrances scattered throughout the Department like secrets waiting to be unraveled. The existence of multiple realities hinted at possibilities beyond her wildest dreams.
She also found herself drawn to a collection of scrolls written in ancient Asian magic—writings from long-forgotten masters detailing methods to weave space and time together. These teachings spoke of balance, the way time flowed like a river and space folded like silk. By immersing herself in these techniques, Petunia began to experiment with spells that could bridge dimensions, stepping through the veil that separated one reality from another.
But knowledge came at a price. One night, after an experiment that had gone too far, Petunia found herself lost in the folds of time, trapped in a loop where she watched herself relive the same moment over and over. It was Kanata who pulled her back, his face grim as he whispered, “Curiosity is a blade with two edges, Evans. Wield it wisely.”
Determined, Petunia pressed on. She excelled in decoding ancient magical scripts, deciphering a forgotten language that hinted at a lost chamber deep within the Department—one that might hold the answers she sought. The deeper she dug, the more she realized that the mysteries the Unspeakables guarded were not just knowledge—they were secrets, hidden for a reason.
But she did not have the luxury of time. The shadow of war loomed over the magical world, and she knew that Voldemort’s return was inevitable. Before the year’s end, she was determined to uncover a way to stop him—whether through prophecy, time manipulation, or a secret buried within the Department itself. She pored over forgotten texts, searching for anything that could alter the course of fate. If there was a way to end the war before it began, she would find it.
Knowing that the answers she sought might not lie within Britain’s Ministry alone, Petunia volunteered herself to study under the Unspeakables of other magical institutions. She petitioned for temporary transfers to the mystical archives of Egypt, where time was said to be woven into the very sands. She sought permission to study with the Indian Department of Mysteries, where ancient texts detailed the cosmic dance of destiny and reincarnation. She prepared to journey to the Arabic ministries, where scholars whispered of celestial magic that could shift the stars themselves. Every culture had its own secrets about time, space, and fate, and Petunia was determined to master them all before the war began.