Hogwarts Library -Lily Evans POV
The Hogwarts library was unusually quiet, a hushed sanctuary in the heart of the bustling castle. Outside the tall, frost-dappled windows, snow clung to the edges of the castle battlements, blanketing the grounds in a serene, white layer that muffled the sounds of students trudging about, their laughter and conversations softened by the wintry chill. Inside, the only noises that broke the silence were the rhythmic scratch of quills on parchment and the soft flicker of enchanted lamps, casting a warm glow across the rows of ancient books.
Lily Evans sat by the window, a lone figure amid the sprawling bookshelves, her Charms essay only half-written. The quill rested forgotten between her fingers, the words swimming through her mind but refusing to flow onto the page. She gazed out at the swirling snowflakes, momentarily lost in their dance.
Beside her, a folded copy of the Daily Prophet lay crumpled, its edges slightly worn from her frequent handling. The headline flickered with motion-ink, drawing her eye despite her efforts to focus on her studies. The news it bore seemed far more pressing than her essay, stirring a restlessness within her that was difficult to ignore.
"Youngest Dual Inventor in ICW History Signs Global Pact with House Zabini"
She hadn't intended to read it. Hadn't meant to linger over the photograph that lay open before her. Yet her gaze kept being drawn back—pulled by an invisible force far stronger than mere curiosity.
There he was.
Severus.
No, he was no longer simply Severus Snape. He had become Severus Shafiq.
The boy captured in the photograph exuded an air of composure and calculated confidence. His chin was tilted just so, his gaze sharp and piercing, as if he could see straight through to her very soul. He wore elaborate robes, tailored in a style foreign to her, and stood beside two Zabinis, radiating a sense of belonging—as though he had always occupied a place in a world she could never quite reach. That world was no longer within her grasp.
He had never looked like this during their time at Hogwarts.
Never smiled like that—especially not in her presence.
A deep, twisting ache settled in Lily's stomach as she absorbed this new, unsettling version of someone she once knew so intimately.
She had always recognized his brilliance, of course—the way the intricate dance of potions ignited a passion within him that nothing else could match. Yet she had never encountered this version of him before: the one who caused potion masters to flinch in apprehension, the one whose name splashed across the headlines, the one who forged alliances with notorious families like the Zabinis. Meanwhile, she found herself trapped in the chaos of dodging hexed ink bottles and enduring passive-aggressive comments in Charms class.
As she blinked hard, the words on the parchment began to blur together, a haze of confusion clouding her thoughts.
Why hadn't he confided in her? Why hadn't he revealed this side of himself? They had grown up side by side, traversed the same muddy path to school for countless years. She had been the sole defender of his honor when the world scorned his bloodline—yet she had failed to perceive the ambition that simmered beneath the layers of his bitterness.
He often expressed his dream of becoming a potions master, a goal that seemed lofty yet attainable in her eyes.
What he had never articulated was his yearning to build an empire, to carve out a legacy that would resonate through the ages.
Why didn't you share that with me? she thought, gripping the edge of the parchment so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Why couldn't I see the vision you held?
And worse, a truth she couldn't escape…
She envied him.
Not just for fame. Not for money. But for certainty. In that photograph, he stood with a quiet confidence, as if he had finally found his place in a world that had done everything to shut him out. He didn't need validation; he had become someone—someone significant.
And she… hadn't.
Lily Evans hadn't carved out a space for herself. She was still here, still defined by her identity as a Muggleborn prefect, still struggling beneath the weight of a fractured house. A thousand invisible eyes seemed to watch her every move, their scrutiny a relentless reminder of her status. All the while, she was left trying to navigate a school that had grown distinctly colder in the absence of one boy, one presence that had provided her with warmth amid the chill.
Everything had changed after Severus left.
The transformation wasn't sudden; there was no single moment of realization. It was a slow, creeping shift that she couldn't ignore. The whispers that had once faded away after the prefect patrols now echoed in the corridors, growing louder and more ferocious. Insults that had been muted became sharper, full of venom. Half-joking hexes flew her way, and her cauldron ingredients mysteriously disappeared, placing her at a disadvantage. Messes were intentionally left at her desk in Transfiguration, each one an affront that made her heart race with anxiety.
At first, she hadn't noticed the change; she had chalked it up to simply random cruelty, the kind that occasionally surfaced in a school full of adolescents. But as the days turned into weeks, even she couldn't deny the truth any longer.
It was worse.
And it continued to worsen.
Just last week, someone had scrawled "Mudblood Starlet" across her dormitory mirror in thick, ugly letters. The phrase had struck her like a physical blow, and it took her a grueling hour to scrub it off, each stroke of the cloth a reminder of the disdain with which some viewed her.
What perplexed her the most—what gnawed at her thoughts relentlessly, more so than the cruelty she had faced—was the timing of it all. Why now? Why had it felt—no matter how absurd it seemed—that things had once been better? Was there someone out there, secretly safeguarding her? The idea seemed utterly preposterous.
Then, just two days ago, Mary Macdonald approached her in a whisper, her demeanor awkward and hesitant. She revealed that she had overheard a seventh-year from Slytherin mention something peculiar, stirring a flicker of unease within her.
When Severus was still attending Hogwarts, he had implored some of the older Slytherins, as well as his peers, to leave Lily alone. He hadn't asked them to protect her or befriend her; all he wanted was for them to simply… ignore her. For a time, they obliged. Reluctantly, many in his house at least respected him for his undeniable talent in Potions and the arcane arts.
However, now, with Severus absent and the fallout from their public dispute widely known, the Slytherins ceased their indifference. Many of her acquaintances began to turn their backs on her, making her feel increasingly isolated. Lily found herself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure whether she should feel horrified or absolutely furious.
"You arrogant bastard," she had thought bitterly. "You really believed I needed saving?" Yet, despite her outrage, a part of her remained fixated on the crumpled parchment in her hands that night, frozen in place. As the flickering candlelight danced across the room, she couldn't shake the nagging questions that echoed in her mind. She had wondered what had gone so terribly wrong.
What if everything she had believed about their friendship—his cruelty, his unpredictable temper, his relentless obsession—had only been a fraction of the truth? What if the other half lay buried beneath layers she had never mustered the effort to uncover?
Even James, whose presence had always felt so constant, had undergone a transformation. He no longer asked her out on whimsical dates, nor did he send delicate floating lilies to brighten her day or scribble playful, albeit poorly written, poetry on her Charms scrolls. Those gestures had faded from their dynamic as soon as Severus departed, leaving a palpable void in their friendship.
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was still watching her. Occasionally, she would catch James stealing glances from across the Great Hall, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes shrouded in a mystery that made her heart race in confusion.
She wondered what he perceived in that moment.
Not the girl Severus had once known, the one with whom he had shared childhood adventures.
Not the one James had chased through the corridors, laughter ringing through the air.
Just… Lily.
But Lily felt uncertain, adrift in her own identity, unsure of the person she had become.
Gryffindor Tower - James Potter's POV
James Potter tossed his broom down beside the crackling fireplace, his gaze momentarily drifting toward Lily, who sat in a shadowy corner of the room. Her smile seemed weary, and her laughter felt more like an echo of joy than genuine mirth. He hadn't approached her in what felt like ages, not since Sirius had suggested a different strategy.
"Let her miss you, mate," Sirius had urged with an intensity that left no room for doubt. "Let her see what it's like when the world doesn't revolve around her."
It was a bold move, and James had to admit it was having an effect—sort of. Yet deep down, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something had changed within him, even if it wasn't with Lily.
The conversations around him were dominated by Severus. No longer just Snivellus or greasy-haired Slytherin, but Shafiq—the boy who had graced the pages of the Daily Prophet twice in a mere three months. The boy who had vanished mysteriously, only to return with a newfound fame that felt elusive to James.
He despised how it made him feel, a gnawing sense of inadequacy creeping in. It was as if the laughter and camaraderie he once reveled in was being overshadowed by the success of another. Like perhaps the joke was on them all, and he was the punchline.
With a heavy sigh, Lily returned her focus to her unfinished essay, but the words seemed to dance tantalizingly on the page, refusing to solidify into anything coherent. Outside, snow began to drift down softly, silently—a delicate ballet of winter that seemed unaffected by the struggles inside.
And there, in the flickering headline beside her, Severus Shafiq remained oblivious to everything around him, wrapped up in his own thoughts, a figure lost in a world of his own making.
Sirius Black's POV
Sirius watched intently from the dim shadows of the Astronomy Tower, his boots casually propped on the cold stone ledge. He flicked through the pages of a forbidden Transfiguration journal, a rare find that he wasn't supposed to possess, let alone read. Each page revealed intricate illustrations and complex spells, filling him with a mix of exhilaration and defiance.
He had heard the whispers floating through the corridors, of course. Tales of Zabinis aligning with Severus Shafiq, the enigmatic half-blood prince who had risen unexpectedly to prominence among their peers. It was the kind of story that seemed ludicrous at first—nothing more than a punchline for a joke—until the reality dawned, too stark to ignore.
But Sirius wasn't consumed by anger; rather, a profound curiosity gnawed at him. How had Snivellus managed to climb the ranks in a world where he once seemed destined to fade into the background?
More importantly, a troubling thought nagged at him: what would happen when Lily finally came to terms with the fact that the boy she had mourned, the one she still held dear, was irrevocably changed? Would she grieve for the boy he used to be, or would she find it in herself to accept the new path he had taken?
A grin crept across his face, a mix of amusement and concern, as he contemplated the unfolding drama below him.
Malfoy Manor – Lucius Malfoy's POV
Lucius sat in solitude within the confines of his study, the faint glow of the lamp illuminating the stark lines of the headline spread across his polished mahogany desk.
"Youngest Dual Inventor… Zabini Alliance… ICW Approval."
A storm of emotions surged within him as his lips tightened into a thin line.
This wasn't just unwelcome news; it was potentially disastrous.
Yet, amidst the turmoil, he couldn't help but find a peculiar fascination in the turn of events.
For years, he had skillfully maneuvered behind the scenes, ensuring that the British Potioneers' Guild remained firmly under aristocratic influence, tightly controlled by those of his lineage and standing. But the boy—no, the Shafiq—had eluded their grasp. He had successfully slipped into a power corridor that Lucius hadn't been aware existed, a hidden avenue for influence that seemed to rise from nowhere.
With an unreadable expression, Lucius resolved to keep a watchful eye on him.
He would observe his movements, analyze his strategies, and decipher his intentions.
And should the opportunity arise…
He would acquire him.
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