HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

West and Snape arrived at Potter Manor just as the birthday party was about to begin.

West was wearing a black robe, and upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the same style as the robe worn by Snape.

Snape tried his best to relax his facial expression, but the lion cubs and snakes still couldn't help but freeze when they saw him.

"Good evening, Dean! / Good evening, Professor!" A chorus of voices rang out.

Snape nodded awkwardly, his face stiff.

West, head bowed, feigned a cough to suppress a smile that was about to break out, then looked up and said, "What are you all doing surrounding the professor? Go do your own thing."

The children quickly scattered and gathered around Sirius.

Sirius Black has taken over the job of the house-elves, taking over the grill, and he's doing a pretty good job at it; at least it looks and smells delicious.

Harry picked up a skewer of roasted meat, took a bite, and handed it to Draco.

"Is it good?" Draco asked curiously as he took the skewers.

"It's delicious." Harry nodded.

Draco took a bite of meat, turned around and spat it into the trash can. "You stinky Potter! You dare to mess with me!" He lunged at Harry, baring his teeth and claws.

People stopped relying on Sirius and started to take matters into their own hands, becoming self-sufficient.

Sirius Black was shoved aside and forced to start digesting his skewers. He took a bite. "Is it really that bad? It's alright."

Draco called out to him, "Stop eating! Dogs can't eat too much salt, they'll die."

"You brat! You have no manners!"

Dumbledore sat to the side, holding a skewer that Grindelwald had grilled, drizzled with honey, and enjoying it.

Snape didn't like greasy food like kebabs, so West had his house-elves bring him some light food, and the two of them sat on a chair in the garden and shared it.

The night wind carried the whispers of the phoenix ferns, and Snape leaned back in his chair, even his breathing was filled with a lazy comfort.

A rare moment of leisure and tranquility; besides the distant sounds of laughter and chatter, all that could be heard was the gentle breeze and the murmur of the plants.

Okay, and there's also the sound of someone's warm breathing.

Snape looked helplessly at the person who had leaned closer. "What are you up to now?"

West took a handkerchief, wiped the cream off Snape's lips, and showed it to him.

Snape: ...

Snape covered his face with his hands, feeling an embarrassment he hadn't experienced in a long time.

It's all West's fault for insisting he take a bite of the strawberry cream cake.

Snape looked up and glared at West.

Before he could even speak, West asked, sounding aggrieved, "Didn't I get a birthday present, Severus?"

The garden was dimly lit, but those eerie green eyes seemed to shine even brighter in the night, covered with a thin layer of water, staring intently at Snape as if he were the only one they could see.

Snape turned awkwardly, took out a small gift box, and handed it to West. "...Happy birthday."

West carefully untied the dark green ribbon, opened the box, and inside lay a bottle of potion. The blue liquid swirled in the night, like a holy stream of light, exuding a refreshing magical aura.

"The Tears of a Unicorn?" West looked up and asked with a smile.

"Well, the first bottle is finished," Snape said.

West chuckled, put the gift away, and said, "Thank you, Severus, I really like it..."

As Snape watched West draw closer and closer, their lips almost touched, witnessed by the moon and stars.

Snape held his breath.

"Ahem, did we disturb you?" a voice suddenly rang out.

Snape sprang up from his chair and saw Dumbledore and Grindelwald standing not far away, having been there for who knows how long.

"..." Snape pursed his lips. "Is it time for the Headmaster's night stroll?"

He could smell the sweet, honeyed scent emanating from Dumbledore, and without even guessing how much dessert the old bee had eaten that night.

"Don't even think about making me concoct a potion to strengthen teeth." Snape gritted his teeth, his expression one of utter rage and embarrassment.

"I should have given the young couple more time," Dumbledore thought.

Perhaps it was because he had become younger, but Dumbledore's little mischievous quirk suddenly kicked in—Severus's reaction was certainly amusing, but it cost him the tooth-strengthening potion that the Potions Master had personally concocted.

"I can make teeth-strengthening potions too, Al," Grindelwald muttered softly.

Dumbledore ignored him, turned to West, and said with a smile, "The meeting is about to begin."

West was still sitting stiffly in his chair when he heard this, and he stood up, his icy aura barely contained. His voice was like frozen ice, "Let's go."

"It's all over," Dumbledore thought. "We've messed things up."

When the four returned to Somerset's drawing room, several people were already sitting around the long table waiting for them.

The Malfoys, Nott, Gore, Crabbe, and Parkinson were all there, all present.

Great, everyone who received the invitation has come.

West strode forward and took his seat in the main place. Snape, his expression now cold, sat down beside West, with Dumbledore and Grindelwald following closely behind.

Lucius and the other family heads were glaring at each other, their faces full of "What are you doing here?" "Aren't you here too?" "So, you dare to betray us?" "What are you saying, you traitor?"

As soon as West and his group arrived, Lucius turned his gaze back and inadvertently caught sight of two handsome young men opposite him, which startled him.

He tried to calm himself and looked at West.

The Death Eaters present were filled with complex emotions, especially after seeing Snape.

The head of Somerset gave them a very tough show of force.

First, they used both threats and inducements to demonstrate Somerset's formidable power; second, they left magical markings on the invitations, so that the moment they touched them, powerful magic would surge forth, showcasing the master's formidable strength.

Third, it exposed Voldemort's half-blood identity and the Horcruxes.

The existence of Horcruxes made them uneasy—the Twenty-Eight Holy Clans have always regarded "integrity of the soul" as the foundation of noble blood, and the act of splitting the soul to make Horcruxes is more despicable than being born a Muggle in the eyes of the old families.

The Parkinson family are not Death Eaters, but they were once a vassal family of the Somerset family, and the vassal contract still exists today.

After much deliberation and careful consideration, they decided to keep the appointment.

This is Somerset, the head of the Twenty-Eight Sacred Races.

Before the previous patriarch went into seclusion, his merchant guild controlled two-thirds of Britain's potion trade and alchemy research.

The resurgence of the Somerset family, with the Black Magic Mark rekindled on their wrists, raises questions about its impact on their current peaceful lives and how the chessboard in England will evolve.

They sized up the young head of the Somerset family before them, weighing his worth in their minds.

"To be honest, Voldemort is about to be resurrected." West's words were like a thunderclap among the group.

The family heads began to discuss in hushed tones. Lucius and Narcissa sat calmly, but their expressions were extremely unnatural, as if they already knew something.

Lucius's gaze couldn't help but fall on Grindelwald and Dumbledore, who gave him a dismissive look, leaving him awkwardly offering a polite smile.