Prologue
"In the warmth of their large burrow lived an entire family of foxes," Harry read aloud, adding inflections to his voice so the child on his lap could follow the story.
The little boy, however, was more focused on blowing bubbles with his mouth and making cooing sounds than on actually listening to his godfather read the book, but it was clear that both of them were enjoying this moment of closeness.
Harry felt Teddy’s pink hair tickling his nose. Glancing around, he noted how fitting the parallel was between the story and their surroundings. The Weasleys were all busy with their tasks in their newly built home, replacing the old one that had been destroyed two years ago during the war.
The crackling of the fire added a warm atmosphere to the room. Molly was bustling about in the kitchen, preparing a feast whose tantalizing aromas filled the entire house. Arthur, engrossed in the repair of an old Muggle device, smiled as he listened to the laughter echoing around him.
Hermione and Ron were there too, somewhere in the sprawling house, probably absorbed in the study sessions Hermione had begun in preparation for her upcoming higher education. Both of them had resumed their studies after the war, unlike Harry, who couldn’t return to a normal life like his two best friends. At St. Mungo’s, he’d been diagnosed with severe post-traumatic stress and prescribed a long vacation, far from the political turmoil and relentless journalists. He now only saw those who had once been the beacons in his chaotic life sporadically.
Hermione harbored grand ambitions to reform the English wizarding political system, while Ron was on the verge of becoming the top Auror in his class. Without Harry overshadowing him or stealing the limelight, the young redhead had built a solid reputation in his department, and the Auror Office spoke highly of his skills and reflexes.
Harry was glad that his two best friends could carry on with their lives despite all the horrors they had faced during their school years. He held no grudge for their infrequent visits, even though he wished for their support during this difficult time. Becoming Teddy’s godfather had given him a way to forget himself and his own troubles, so he could offer his godson the childhood he had never known.
The first weeks had been challenging, learning how to change diapers, burp a baby after a bottle, and all those little things a seventeen-year-old boy knows nothing about. Yet, this was what Harry had had to concern himself with during the long months he’d spent in Scotland, far from the crowds and away from prying eyes, in Andromeda Tonks’ charming home.
The Weasley family, mourning the loss of a son, had moved into a small, cramped cottage after their house was destroyed, and Harry had felt like an intruder. Andromeda had naturally offered Harry to join her and Teddy, so he could fulfill his duties as godfather. In just a few weeks, the young man had found himself with the most unusual of blended families.
The only obligation he had reluctantly taken on was arranging the funeral of his former Potions master, Severus Snape. Surprisingly, Harry had been named second in Snape’s will, right after Draco Malfoy. Who would have guessed that Draco was the Potions master’s godson? But as the latter had been sentenced to many years in Azkaban, the task of organizing the funeral of a man who had hated him all his life fell to Harry. Perhaps Severus had anticipated what fate awaited his godson at the end of the war, which is why he listed Harry as an heir. Harry had complied, honoring the memory of a man who had given his life for him, or rather, for the love of Lily Evans.
Severus Snape’s will was marked by an almost austere simplicity. He requested to be buried under a centuries-old elm, with only a simple tombstone devoid of epitaph or adornment. No speeches, no flowers, just the silence and the shade of the branches to watch over him.
In addition to the funeral instructions, Harry inherited a small vial containing a silvery liquid streaked with gold, which even Hermione, despite all her knowledge, couldn’t identify. Affixed crookedly on the glass was a simple phrase, quite uncharacteristic of the meticulous Potions master Severus Snape had been: "Drink me."
Two years earlier, Harry had hesitated to consume this strange inheritance.
"I really don’t trust it," Ron had said, folding his arms with a skeptical frown. "It could be some kind of Felix Felicis... but reversed."
Hermione had rolled her eyes. "Ron, Felix Miseris doesn’t exist. And even if it did, it would be a highly illegal and dangerous potion. Felix Felicis is already toxic enough; an overdose can have catastrophic effects."
"Maybe Snape invented a special potion just for you, Harry," Luna suggested softly, her dreamy eyes fixed on the shimmering vial. "After all, he was very talented at creating unique things."
Harry sighed, staring at the golden flecks sparkling inside the vial. "Just my luck. A mysterious potion bequeathed by a man who despised me for years. What am I supposed to do with it?"
"He never really respected your skills in Potions," Luna pointed out. "He probably thought the name wouldn’t mean anything to you. He saw you as an impulsive Gryffindor, without realizing who you really were. Maybe he hoped you’d simply follow the instruction without worrying about what it contained."
"That’s completely irresponsible!" Ron had exclaimed, frowning. "Everyone knows you don’t drink a potion without knowing what it is."
"Or take sweets from strangers," Luna added with a mischievous wink.
Ron had flushed, recalling his poisoning incident, before turning back to Harry. "If I were you, I wouldn’t touch that stuff."
Hermione placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s arm. "I agree with Ron. We should analyze it first. I could ask McGonagall for access to the advanced Potions lab at Hogwarts. Maybe we could figure out what it is."
"Or ask Slughorn," Ron suggested. "He loves this kind of mystery. And he likes you a lot more than Snape ever did."
Harry nodded, though his gaze remained fixed on the vial. Part of him was tempted to follow the simple, direct instruction: "Drink me." After all, Snape had sacrificed his life for him. Perhaps it was a final gesture of reconciliation or a cryptic message.
“You’re not actually going to drink it, are you?” Ron asked, alarmed by the pensive look on his friend’s face.
Harry gave a small smile. “Not right now, at least. I’d rather avoid turning into a giant toad, or worse.”
“That would be unfortunate,” Luna remarked earnestly. “Giant toads have a very complicated social life.”
After entrusting the vial to Slughorn, Harry waited over two years without any news about the mysterious potion it contained, eventually forgetting its existence altogether as he became absorbed in raising Teddy. Every day was an adventure with his godson: the first babbled words, the wobbly first steps, the shared bursts of laughter. These precious moments brought a new kind of joy into his life, helping him find a certain balance after the tumult of the past.
Then, on that Christmas Eve, the old Potions master came to see him by the fireplace at the Burrow.
Closing the storybook he had been reading to Teddy, Harry let the little boy toddle off toward the freshly baked biscuits Molly had made, his hair changing color in tune with his excitement.
Watching his godson with fondness, Harry motioned for Slughorn to come closer.
“It’s a puzzle I can’t solve,” the old man sighed, his pride seemingly wounded by his own ignorance. He held the vial delicately in his pudgy fingers, the firelight glinting off the iridescent liquid inside. “Never have I seen such a combination of ingredients in a potion. It’s entirely unique.”
Intrigued, Harry straightened in his seat. “Were you able to analyze it?”
Slughorn nodded, though his expression remained troubled. “Some of the most unusual components,” he began. “Lunar mandrake petals, harvested during an eclipse; crystallized phoenix tears; stardust powder; and, most surprisingly, a rare essence of Memory Mirror. Each ingredient is extremely rare and powerful in its own right, but their combination is... perplexing.”
Harry frowned, trying to recall his Potions lessons. “What does it mean? What effects might such a potion have?”
Slughorn slowly shook his head. “That’s the mystery. Lunar mandrake is known for its properties that bridge the world of the living and the realm of spirits. Phoenix tears have unparalleled healing and regenerative powers. Stardust powder is used to alter time and perception of reality. As for the essence of Memory Mirror, it’s said to reflect the soul of whoever consumes it.”
He paused, looking deeply thoughtful. “Moreover, the potion’s structure suggests it’s meant to be drunk in seven distinct sips. Each sip appears to trigger a specific reaction. It’s as if the potion is programmed to activate a series of successive effects.”
Harry felt a cold shiver run down his spine. “Seven sips?”
The detail brought back painful memories of the Horcruxes, and he found it in very poor taste. Slughorn’s pale complexion suggested he shared the same unease.
The professor nodded gravely. “Potions requiring fractional ingestion are extremely rare and extraordinarily complex. It reveals a very deliberate intention on the part of the creator. I must admit, despite all my experience, I’ve never encountered such a concoction.”
Harry took a deep breath, trying to suppress the rising anxiety. “What do you suggest I do?”
Slughorn looked at him with an unusual solemnity. “The decision is yours, Harry. But I advise the utmost caution. If you do choose to drink this potion, make sure you’re surrounded by trusted people, and that you’re in a safe environment.”
Harry nodded absently, his mind already drifting elsewhere. He thanked Slughorn and slipped the vial into his inner pocket.
As you might guess, Harry did the exact opposite of what he’d been advised, fearing to worry his friends or put them at risk. Andromeda had decided to take Teddy to the United States for the holidays to introduce him to her late husband’s American relatives. Harry chose to stay in England, longing for a bit of solitude for the first time in two years.
His relationship with Ginny had faded over time. She’d accused him of being too young to take on the responsibility of raising Teddy, believing he was sacrificing his youth and their shared plans. She hadn’t understood him, only seeing the hero covered in glory, without perceiving the man behind the scars, the one who had been forced to grow up far too quickly. There was no way Harry would let Teddy face the fate of an orphan as he himself had. So, he devoted himself entirely to this role, even if it meant putting his personal life on hold. Once again...
And so, there he was, a nineteen-year-old bachelor, soon to turn twenty, in a small, secluded cottage in Scotland. Thick snowflakes were falling, covering the landscape in a pristine white blanket. The only sound was the cold wind gusting outside.
Harry pulled the vial from his pocket, gazing at it with renewed intensity. His heart raced, caught between apprehension and resolve.
He recalled Slughorn’s words, the warnings, the uncertainties. But an inner voice urged him forward. Perhaps this potion held answers, a final message from Severus Snape, a man he had so profoundly misunderstood in life.
Rising, he carefully prepared the room. He arranged cushions around him in case he fell, checked that the door was securely locked, and ensured no one would disturb him. He also made sure his wand was within reach, ready to react if necessary.
Taking a deep breath, Harry uncorked the vial with delicate precision. A faint aroma wafted out, a blend of floral and woody notes, evoking both nostalgia and hope. He lifted the flask to his lips and took the first sip.