HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

"...It's more than just 'dreaming'."

Ian understood immediately; it was indeed related to the brooch. "Backlash? It affected you?"

"Very faint, but... persistent." Severus's voice was low, and he spoke faster than usual. "I peeled back the surface disguise; the core is far more complex than I expected—emotions, focus, and..."

He pursed his lips again, his left hand moving in the pocket of his robe but not taking it out. "...A mild skin reaction, like contact with inferior Muggle chemicals. Ordinary antidotes and mild purifiers have limited effect."

Ian understood.

Severus was stumped, but his proud nature prevented him from showing weakness, much less admitting that he had been stumped by a "trinket." He could only try to solve it secretly, but the result seemed less than ideal.

"Will things get worse if this continues?" Ian asked.

"Uncertain, records are scarce, it may be fading gradually, or it may be..."

Severus didn't finish speaking, but Ian understood.

Ian nodded and didn't ask for any more details.

The two walked in silence for a while, and as they approached the entrance to the common room, Ian suddenly said, "I remember my mother mentioning that St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries has treated some cases of people affected by strange cursed items, especially those that are old and have subtle effects."

"Therapists have a non-standard testing process to determine the 'habits' and 'preferences' of the curse, somewhat like conducting behavioral observations on dangerous magical creatures."

Severus turned his head to look at him.

“Of course, we can’t send the stuff to St. Mungo,” Ian continued, almost to himself, “but perhaps we can learn from the principles.”

Ian told Severus some of the ways he knew, and Severus listened, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"As for the materials," Ian smiled, "I'll go to Diagon Alley this weekend and 'pass by' a bit. You know, there are always some stalls that sell things whose origins are a mystery, but you can occasionally find some interesting little trinkets."

Severus looked at him, and after a moment, nodded slightly. "...Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Ian pushed open the bedroom door and handed the book back to him.

"Consider it an investment in our 'Chief Potions Master' for future projects. But next time you encounter such a clingy little thing, remember to speak up early. You can't get fat all by yourself, Severus."

The teasing tone in his voice diluted the seriousness of the previous topic.

Severus took the book, his lips seemed to curve slightly, but he quickly regained his usual indifference. However, the melancholy in his eyes, born of his troubles, seemed to have dissipated somewhat.

Over the weekend, Ian did bring back a few small items wrapped in old newspapers. When he handed them to Severus, he didn't ask any questions, only saying:

"The stall owner said these were cleared out of the attic of an abandoned Scottish house, which was said to have been the site of decades of family disputes."

Severus cautiously took over and began his experiments.

Ian didn't interfere much, but simply made sure that the materials were available in time when Severus needed to brew certain auxiliary potions, and when he was focused on his experiments for a long time, he would interrupt him appropriately, take him to the Great Hall for a meal, or simply say, "It's time to rest, you need to close your eyes for half an hour."

Kevin and Aris had a vague feeling that Severus was busy with a somewhat tricky private research project, but they tacitly refrained from asking any further questions.

Aris simply "accidentally" placed a book he had brought from home in the most convenient spot on Severus's desk while tidying the bookshelf one day.

After Severus missed dinner again due to an experiment, Kevin quietly "borrowed" a plate of still-warm pies from the kitchen and placed it on his bedside table.

A few days later, late at night, Severus drew back the bed curtains again, walked over, and gently knocked on Ian's bedpost.

Ian, who was not in a deep sleep, woke up immediately, put on his clothes, and quietly followed him to the quiet, deserted common room.

The fire in the stove had long since died out, with only a few wall lamps emitting a faint green glow.

Severus opened his palm, and the brooch became shiny, but the aura of the curse disappeared.

"It's solved." Severus's voice was tired, but more so it was relieved and calm after the problem was solved.

"Well done, Severus," Ian said sincerely, his gaze falling on Severus's hands, where the unusual dryness seemed to have lessened somewhat. "How are your hands?"

Severus curled his fingers slightly. "Much better. I'll handle the rest cleanly and leave no trouble."

"Of course, I trust you to handle things." Ian yawned. "Go to sleep now that you're done, Chief Researcher. You have History of Magic tomorrow, and Professor Binns' lullabies are much harder to endure than your experimental data."

The two quietly returned to their dormitory. Lying in the darkness, Ian could hear even, steady breathing coming from the opposite bed, no longer the deliberately suppressed, shallow breathing he had heard before.

Severus seemed to have really fallen asleep this time.

……

On the last Wednesday of April, at breakfast a greywood owl flew through the high window of the auditorium and precisely tossed a heavy parchment envelope next to Severus's cup of pumpkin juice, nearly knocking it over.

The envelope was addressed to "Mr. Severus Snape" in dark green ink, and at the bottom was a complex emblem of the Potions Society, consisting of a cauldron and a wand.

Several Slytherin students around cast curious glances at him.

Severus's fingers paused on the envelope for a moment before he picked it up. Instead of opening it immediately, he quietly slipped it into the innermost part of his backpack.

"Don't you want to take a look?" Ian asked in a voice only the two of them could hear, stabbing a roasted potato with his fork.

"Go back and check," Severus said in a low voice, his expression unchanged.

It wasn't until he returned to his dormitory that evening that Severus opened the letter.

The letter paper was thick and had a faint herbal scent. The content was very official and the wording was precise. It began by congratulating him on passing the preliminary review of the International Potions Society's "Rising Star Potential" project and being rated as "having significant innovation and practical value".

The notification followed that the society had decided to award him a small research grant to encourage him to continue his research in the relevant field, and included instructions on how to claim the grant.

Finally, the letter mentioned that the core improvement ideas in the paper have been submitted to the Ministry of Magic's Patent Division for simplified registration with the assistance of the Society. If there is a possibility of commercial application in the future, he will enjoy a corresponding proportion of the rights.

Enclosed with the letter was a Gringotts receipt; the amount wasn't staggering, but for a second-year student, it was undoubtedly a huge sum.