Harry remained for a few minutes in the end of the class, speaking with Snape in low voices about what Snape had defined as 'Remedial Potions'. The two other stars of the Golden Trio waited patiently near the door and together they walked towards Herbology greenhouses, Harry explaining them what had happened in Potions in detail.

Ron spluttered on his own spit and Hermione shook her head. "Let me get this straight. You – " she stuck his finger in Harry's chest. " – brewed an apt potion, then Professor Snape came and magically changed your instructions, moved out of the way and defended you with a shield charm so only Umbridge got hit by the blast. Then, he came back, charmed your instructions again without his wand, blamed the incident on Umbridge and yet he assigned you a week of detentions, which turned out as a week of Remedial Potions. Your potion was ruined, but with a wave of his hand he fixed it and told you that you brew something successfully?"

Harry nodded. "I know it sounds unreasonable, but I swear that it happened!" he exclaimed. Ron patted his shoulder awkwardly. "I'm one hundred percent behind you, Harry. Even if you're barmy." He declared.

Hermione sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I believe you, Harry. It's just that this story reveals quite a few innovative facts and in my opinion it's wrong to ignore them." She raised a finger, entering into lecture-mode.

"First, you claim that Professor Snape had instantly changed your instructions twice, but it remained in your handwriting." At his approving node, she continued. "Each time was a risk for Professor Snape. Why didn't he just Confunded you? Does it have anything to do with Remedial Potions?" Her lips tightened, becoming one white line of worry.

"Second, he assigned you a week of detentions, in lieu of Umbridge's punishment for your Langlock. Notice, it's their second struggle, despite Professor Snape is on probation. It must be at top priority."

Harry bit his lip. Hermione makes sense, as always. "But the most disturbing thing, in my opinion, is that the Professor had complimented you. Which logical explanation exists for this action?"

"Maybe He's trying to butter Harry into going with him to Voldemort's." Remarked Ron. "Or he concluded yesterday that you learn better when nobody's yelling at you." Harry blushed; he hadn't told his friends about the fact that Snape was drunk and probably hadn't remembered anything from their class.

Hermione pondered. "It might be an acceptable suggestion." She finally said. "And yet…"

Harry shook his head at her. "I disagree with you." He said bluntly. "The most disturbing thing was that he had done all of this spell work wordlessly, wandlessly."

"Wordless magic is a concept and we should be learning it in the next year. It can't be so rare. And we've done wandless as children, remember? Accidental Magic." Hermione remarked, nonetheless Ron made a noncommitting small noise.

"Actually, it pretty much is." His fingers occupied themselves with the tail of his tie. "The spells we're supposed to learn belong to a different branch of magic than what Snape has done. Percy – " his face became bitter " – tried to teach me some. We usually deal with internal magic, which means that we extricate magic from our own core. That's the simplest branch for nonverbal spells, since we can affect the surroundings not by our words, but rather by our already effected magic. Protego, for example."

He cleared his throat. "However, Snape affected already existing magic, your handwriting. It's called manipulative magic and takes a little bit more self-control. The combination between both things is the amazing part; wordless demands disciplined magical core and that's why we use wands for it. Their magical core is much more organized and unaffected by feelings. On the other hand, wandless magic is wilder and accidental; you must free every scintilla of control that you have and let it flow in you.

"So, wizards who can use wandless, nonverbal, manipulative magic? It's like, super rare. I've heard only of Dumbledore and Voldemort…" his forehead wrinkled as he tried to remember. "Oh, maybe Shacklebolt. I think that's pretty much it."

Harry and Hermione exchanged shocked looks. "Who are you and what have you done to Ronald Bilius Weasley?" Harry asked, raising his wand. Ron merely smiled coyly and shook it off.

"You seem to forget sometimes that I've grown into this world." He answered quietly.

Harry studied his shoes, tingles of shame burgeoning in his stomach and entwining into knots. Ron is correct and they all know it; Usually, the funny and blunt ginger boy does not show his intelligence. However, occasionally they are able to catch glimpses in the strategic mind; through games of Wizard Chess or conversations about less trivial matters, whether speaking on the Wizarding world or the Muggle world.

The dark-haired boy made up his mind. From now on, he'll keep on mind that this is the real Ron – preceptive, witty and ruthless. The boy who beat McGonagall's chess in his very first year of Hogwarts.

The Trio stayed absorbed in their thoughts until Sprout ordered them to put on working gloves.

The lesson for his N.E.W.T. seventh year lesson went considerably well for a class that included the pair of the Weasley devils. Severus would never admit it aloud, but he had grown fond of the twins' questions and genuine fondness to his subject. He was unaccustomed to this kind of students, which had operated via aptitude and thirst for the triumphing sensation of brewing something that doesn't explode.

Rather in this case, triumph counts as something that does explode.

After a tiring procedure of three months and nine days, including four nightly sessions, the tedious brew of the Antidote for Veritaserum finally reached its end with merely three, insignificant small incidents. Albeit its undeniable significance, in Severus' eyes it was one of the most ill-favored potions for brewing. He had purchased the required ingredients for the Antidote as soon as he has heard that the Ministry supplies locum tenens for the DADA position.

His mind retrieved the riddle from the night and he decided to ask Flitwick, as the head of Ravenclaw, for a guidance.

"Sue Li, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Mandy Brocklehurst?" The small man mused. Severus left for lunch at Flitwick's dismissal, yet they met again near the table, the Charms Professor looking amazed. "Severus, your ways are going far beyond my understandings!"

The Potions Master raised his eyebrow smugly, covering his befuddlement. "I'm not quite done." He added, his preceptive mind quickly filling in the gaps. Flitwick must've received some kind of an announcement about those students. "Pomona – Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot." She looked puzzled. So, Pomona wasn't told yet. "Minerva – Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and our dearest, Mr. Potter."

The stern woman barely blinked. "Severus, in the next time that you try to convince us that you've connected to your inner eye, please be more persuasive." She turned to Flitwick. "He had probably spoken with Umbridge about the lists for the interrogations, given that she asks non-stop for Veritaserum."

Severus' harshly controlled expression almost slipped. The half bloods had crowns - Half Blood Prince… His book on the fifth year! That was his subliminal memorandum!   

Minerva interpreted his silence differently. "See?" She gestured at him and he caught himself, strengthening his barriers.

"You happen to live under wrong conception if you believe in the notion that she'll ever voluntarily engage in any kind of communication with me." He sneered and stood, pacing towards the Dungeons without any further explanation.

Nor eating anything.

Minerva noticed. "Either something is deeply wrong with him, or I've gone mad." She sighed; her bemusement visible.

"You're entirely bonkers," Albus hummed. "but I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are." *

Severus marched so fast towards the Potions' lab that he clashed into a group of fifth years in the way. He caught Tracey Davis as she almost fell.

"My apologies, Miss Davis." He inclined his head, tucking a vial with transparent liquid into her left palm. Without further elucidation he continued forward. Davis is clever. "Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Nott." He acknowledged and continued pacing, stopping at Nott's outcry.

"Professor Snape, sir. The next time that you wish for somebody to escort Professor Umbridge to the Hospital Wing, please pick somebody else."

Severus raised his borrow doubtfully. "What makes you think that there will be a so-called next time?"

Draco smirked at him. "Why, sir, I remember your speech in our first year. We Slytherins must stick together. Through putting you on a probation," Of course they had construed. "Professor Umbridge had declared a war on our house. And she won't leave unscathed."

The blond boy had soured his face. "My Father would hear about it in Christmas. The High Inquisitor – " he spat with contempt " – does not approve to let the news about this probation leave the castle. Perhaps she is afraid from… Undesirable consequences…" He stressed the last words in a tone that wasn't so far from Severus' baritone.

The Potions Master allowed his lips to twitch upwards. He was proud in his Slytherins; but paramount, he had received a postponement to the finale of his spying career. "Indeed, Mr. Malfoy."

"See you, Professor." Remarked Davis and the three of them continued towards the Slytherin common room.

Barely a minute after, Severus already stood in the threshold of the lab. It was a simple matter; The books from his first to his fourth year had lied comfortably in a sealed trunk under substantial wards ever since his seventh year at Hogwarts. Those were the books he'd shared with Lily, excluding the fifth year; the year he wanted to forget. The seventh book was burnt by his own hands after he finished Hogwarts.  

By elimination, the only books which could fall into the hands of some brats were from his fifth and sixth year. He could test it very easily. "Accio Half Blood Prince's book!" He declared. Something shuffled in the locked cupboard and Severus opened it, the book in question hovering towards his hand. He smirked; were he a lesser wizard, it would've stricken him straightaway in the face.

That one glance on the book was enough to approve Severus' subconscious hypothesis; it was the sixth. So, a fifth-year student. He snorted. Despite her week of head start, Severus already easily bypassed Umbridge's interrogation and conclusions, without doing anything illegal.

He stared at the book in his hand. It was the year he had invented Sectumsempra; the year that Lupin had almost killed him. Before the Marauders let him off the hook, but Lily wasn't there to support him. Without any doubt, it was his worst year at Hogwarts, perhaps even in general.

"Incendio." He growled mercilessly, watching the paper dwindling between his fingers, until all that was left from it was a small heap of grey ashes, some of them floating in the air like tiny snowflakes.