Severus pushed open the door to the intern office, stepping inside with his usual measured stride. He barely had a moment to take in the room before a chorus of greetings met him.
"Morning, Blackwood!"
"There he is!"
"Ah, our resident dark wizard has arrived."
Severus paused just long enough to glance at the group gathered near the central table. Penelope, Zeba, Anthony, and Irina—all fellow interns, were watching him with barely concealed amusement. They weren't alone. Around the room, several other Healers and interns gave him glances ranging from wary to outright intrigued.
He could already tell.
The Daily Prophet had made its rounds.
He resisted the urge to sigh and instead arched a brow. "I take it you all read Skeeter's masterpiece?"
Zeba grinned, arms crossed. "Oh, everyone has. You should've seen the hospital staff this morning. I think half of them are waiting to see if you start floating and speaking in Parseltongue."
Anthony snickered. "Or summoning inferi. You know, like all good necromancers do."
Severus exhaled through his nose, walking further into the room. "Yes, because reviving inferi and healing patients are clearly the same thing."
"Dark magic, forbidden magic, necromancy!" Penelope said in an exaggerated whisper, wiggling her fingers in the air. "Come on, Severus, at least tell us if you have some secret grimoires lying around. Maybe a lost tome of Morgana?"
Severus gave her a dry look as he pulled out a chair and sat. "If I did, I certainly wouldn't be sharing them with you lot."
Irina shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You have to admit, though, she did a brilliant job making you sound like some shadowy wizard with a hidden past." She pulled a copy of the newspaper from the desk and flipped it open. "Listen to this—'Who is Severus Blackwood? A savior, or something far more dangerous?'"
Anthony whistled. "Now that's some proper fearmongering."
Penelope leaned on the table, chin in her hands. "So, should we start calling you Lord Blackwood? Or is that too on the nose?"
Severus gave her a pointed stare. "Try it, and you'll regret it."
Zeba laughed. "Oh, lighten up! It's just funny, that's all. One day, you're just a quiet intern working long shifts like the rest of us. The next, you're in the Prophet being accused of necromancy."
Severus shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "Skeeter clearly had fun with her quill. I suppose I should be flattered that she thinks I'm some dark prodigy."
"Not just dark—mysterious," Anthony corrected. "I mean, no Hogwarts records? You just pop up out of nowhere, ace every exam, and then go on to do the impossible? It's like something out of a novel."
Irina flipped another page. "She even speculated about family magic—like you're some secret heir to an ancient bloodline or something."
Severus let out a slow breath. "Yes, well, I suspect the Prophet will be hounding me for a proper interview soon enough."
"Will you give one?" Zeba asked, genuinely curious.
Severus hesitated for a moment before answering, "Doubtful. The last thing I need is to feed the speculation."
"Smart choice," Penelope agreed. "Though it might not stop them. People love a good mystery."
Severus nodded, already aware of that fact. The stares around the office made it abundantly clear that he had already become something of a legend overnight. It would take time for the hysteria to die down—if it ever did.
Anthony leaned closer. "So, come on, mate. Give us something. Are the spells yours?"
Severus glanced at him. "Which ones?"
"The heart-restarter, the suppression spell—the ones they say you used on the Beauxbatons champion," Anthony clarified. "Did you really invent them?"
Severus studied the group for a moment before nodding. "Yes."
That earned some murmurs.
"Bloody hell," Zeba muttered, shaking her head. "I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified."
"A bit of both, I think," Irina said, closing the newspaper and tossing it onto the desk. "Just don't let this go to your head, Blackwood. We wouldn't want you turning into a real dark lord."
Severus smirked. "Oh, don't worry. If I ever do, you'll be the first to know."
Anthony grinned. "Good. Just make sure we're on the winning side, yeah?"
Severus only shook his head as the room filled with laughter. For all the stares and whispers, at least his colleagues hadn't changed too much. That, at least, was a relief.
_________________________________________
Severus was finalizing the last details of the report he was to submit to Director Matthew Arden. The heart-restarter spell, the blood circulation potion, and the magic suppression spell. He had spent the last few hours meticulously documenting every aspect—ingredients, wand movements, theoretical foundations, and their intended medical applications.
Just as he was adding a final note about the suppression spell's compatibility with non-human patients, a voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Oi, Severus," Anthony called out from across the room. "Grant wants you in his cabin."
Severus sighed, placing his quill back into the inkwell. "Did he say why?"
Anthony shrugged. "No idea. Maybe he's got another secret mission for you. You know, since you're apparently a 'dark wizard prodigy' and all." He smirked, clearly referencing the absurd speculations from the Daily Prophet article.
Severus gave him a deadpan look before standing. "If I was truly a dark wizard, you would be a toad by now."
Anthony chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Go on, oh great and mysterious one."
Ignoring the teasing, Severus left the ward and made his way to Grant's cabin. The office was located a little away from the main ward. Being both an emergency and spell damage specialist, Grant needed a quieter space to focus.
Reaching the door, Severus gave a firm knock.
A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal Grant's ever-friendly face, his sharp blue eyes twinkling with a smile.
"Severus," Grant greeted. "Good timing. I was about to come get you myself."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no, quite the opposite." Grant gestured for him to follow. "Come, there's someone who wishes to meet you."
Severus nodded, falling into step beside him. They took the lift up two floors, the gentle hum of magic keeping the structure afloat. Once they stepped out, Grant led him down a long corridor, stopping at the eighteenth door on the right. Severus was honestly intrigued now. Who were the ones, Grant wanted him to meet? Were it those Dragon Handlers? Or maybe, it could be press. It would be better to give an interview honestly.
Without much preamble, Grant pushed the door open and stepped inside. Severus followed, and the moment he did, he was immediately washed over by a familiar, intoxicating sensation—the veela allure.
His Occlumency shields flared instinctively, pushing the sensation aside as he took in the room's occupants.
There, seated upright on the hospital bed, was Fleur Delacour.
She looked better than the last time he had seen her—no longer burned and barely clinging to life. Her skin was pale, but smooth, and though she still seemed somewhat tired, she was far from the lifeless body he had pulled back from the brink of death. Her hair had grown back completely, now reaching to her waist, like before.
Beside her sat a strikingly beautiful woman with long, silvery-blonde hair, her features just as ethereal as her daughter's. A man stood at the foot of the bed, tall with golden-blond hair and warm, dark eyes. And lastly, near the side of the bed, was a little girl—no older than eight, who clutched her mother's dress with wide, curious eyes.
Severus had no trouble recognizing them.
The Delacours.
Fleur stiffened the moment her gaze landed on him, her blue eyes widening slightly, as though caught off guard.
Grant stepped forward with an easy smile. "Severus, this is Jean and Apolline Delacour, and their youngest daughter, Gabrielle. Of course, you already know Miss Delacour."
Jean Delacour turned to Severus, his expression warm but filled with something much deeper—relief, gratitude. He stepped forward, extending his hand.
"Monsieur Blackwood," he said, his voice thick with a French accent. "I 'ave wanted to meet you… to say merci, from ze bottom of my 'eart."
Severus shook his hand firmly. "There is no need for thanks, sir. I simply did my duty."
Jean shook his head. "Non, non, you do not understand. You did not 'ave to save my daughter. Yet, you did. You did what no ozzers could do. You brought 'er back when we 'ad… when we 'ad lost 'ope." His voice grew tight at the end, his grip on Severus's hand firm. "For a fazzer, zere is nozing worse zan losing a child."
Severus remained silent for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "I understand."
Apolline stepped forward then, her movements graceful as she placed a delicate hand over her husband's. "We are… 'ow do you say… eternally grateful," she said, her accent even heavier than her husband's. "If zere is ever somezing we can do for you, please, do not 'esitate to ask."
Severus inclined his head. So, this was it. Appreciation for his work. Atleast, he was being appreciated in this world, rather than being ignored like that in his own world. "I appreciate the offer, madam, but I assure you, I expect nothing in return."
She smiled kindly, though there was something in her gaze that suggested she would not easily forget this debt.
Throughout the entire exchange, Fleur had remained silent. She was still watching him, her expression unreadable.
Gabrielle, however, had no such hesitation.
She peered up at him, eyes as wide as saucers. "Ees eet true?" she asked suddenly, her voice small but full of wonder. "You used magick to bring Fleur back?"
Severus turned to her, noting the way Apolline's grip on her dress tightened slightly, as though to pull her back.
"I only used the knowledge I had," he answered simply.
Gabrielle tilted her head. "Zen you are very, very Zmart."
A chuckle escaped Grant at that, and even Jean's lips quirked.
Severus, on the other hand, simply blinked at the child. "So I have been told."
Gabrielle grinned, seemingly satisfied with his answer.
Severus glanced back at Fleur. She was still silent, but her gaze was sharp—analyzing, dissecting. She did not seem to know what to make of him.
Finally, she spoke.
"Zank you."
Her voice was quieter than he expected.
Severus met her eyes, nodding. "You are welcome, Miss Delacour."
A brief silence settled over the room before Jean clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. "Come, let us sit. We 'ave much to talk about."
Severus merely nodded. Grant suddenly cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Now, since Miss Delacour is awake and looking well, that's good news," he began, glancing around the room. "However, there's a matter we need to address. Given that she was brought back from near death by unfamiliar magic—no offense to you, Severus. As such, we're bound by policy to keep her under observation for the next two weeks."
Fleur's head snapped toward him, her expression immediately shifting from neutral to displeased. "What?" she asked sharply.
Grant raised a hand, his tone calm and composed as he looked at the Beauxbatons champion. "This is for your own well-being, Miss Delacour. You went through an intensive recovery using magic we don't fully understand. Even if there seem to be no complications now, that doesn't mean something won't surface later."
Severus understood the reasoning. In his world, those spells were common, but in this world, they were not. Magic was a complex thing, and there was always a possibility—no matter how small—that there could be unintended consequences.
"That's standard procedure," he said, backing up Grant's decision. "The rules are there for a reason." Grant nodded at his words, afterall it was standard and a necessary procedure.
Jean and Apolline exchanged a glance before nodding in approval. "Oui, we understand," Jean said. "Eet ees best zat Fleur remains 'ere until we 're sure ze iz 'ell."
Fleur, however, was far from convinced. "But I am fine," she protested, straightening in bed. "I feel 'ealthy! Zere ees no need to stay 'ere for two weeks! Zat is ridiculous!"
Grant sighed but remained patient. "Miss Delacour, you went through an intensive magical recovery. That takes a toll on your body, even if you don't feel it immediately. Potions and salves drain energy—it's part of the process. Right now, you need food, rest, and proper monitoring."
Jean turned to Fleur, his voice gentle but firm now. "We will inform Madame Maxime zat you will not be returning to 'Ogwarts for two weeks."
Fleur's lips pressed into a thin line, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "Zis ees unfair," she muttered. "Ze ozzer champions will 'ave time to figure out zeir clue, and I will be behind…"
At that, Severus's gaze drifted toward the bedside table, where a familiar golden egg sat. So, Madame Maxime had already visited. He supposed it made sense—she would have brought Fleur whatever she needed for the competition.
"It'll be fine," he said, his voice even. "I believe you'll figure it out."
Fleur huffed. "Bien sûr you do. But zat does not change ze fact zat I am at a disadvantage."
"There are many skilled witches and wizards in St. Mungo's," Severus pointed out. "You might even find someone who could help you while you're here."
Fleur looked uncertain at his words, but didn't say anything.
Gabrielle, however, giggled and broke the silence. "Eet does not matter," she said cheerfully. "Opening ze egg only makes everyone's ears hurt!" She scrunched up her nose. "Eet screams like a banshee! Fleur could not understand anyzing!"
Severus glanced at her, his lips twitching slightly. Trust children to be blunt. "Perhaps your sister has been trying to decipher it the wrong way."
Fleur immediately straightened, her eyes narrowing. "Excuse-moi?" she said, her tone edged with irritation.
Severus turned to her with a neutral expression. "I meant what I said."
Fleur's gaze sharpened, her arms tightening around herself. "Are you saying I do not know 'ow to solve a puzzle?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly. "Zat I am not capable?"
Severus sighed internally. He had not meant to bruise her pride, but clearly, her insecurity was flaring up. Moreover, him bringing her back from near death also complicated things. The girl had clearly gone through some traumatising shit. She was clearly not stable mentally currently.
"I never said that," he replied, his voice calm. "I'm saying there is more than one way to approach a problem. You might be misinterpreting the solution."
Fleur's expression hardened. "Oh? And what would you 'ave done, zen, if you were in my place?"
There was a shift in the room's atmosphere.
Jean opened his mouth to intervene, sensing the rising tension, but Severus lifted a hand to stop him. He met Fleur's gaze steadily.
"If I were in your place," he said evenly, "I would have used a Summoning Charm during the first task, instead of confronting the dragon directly."
The room went silent.
Fleur's mouth opened slightly in shock, her mind clearly racing. Grant, Apolline, and Jean all looked surprised, as if the idea had never even crossed their minds.
"That… zat would 'ave worked?" Fleur finally asked, almost disbelievingly. Even she couldn't believe that simple solution. The thought would have never occured into her mind.
"It was the logical thing to do," Severus said.
Fleur blinked, the weight of the realization settling in. She looked almost offended with herself. She muttered something in french under her breath. "C'est une solution tellement simple ! Ça aurait été si facile!"
Gabrielle giggled while Jean and Apolline looked concerned and a mix of amusement.
Severus leaned back slightly. "Perhaps because you were too focused on the dragon itself," he suggested. "You assumed the challenge was to face it, rather than outmaneuver it."
Fleur stared at him, then at the golden egg on the table, her mind working through what he had just said.
A moment later, her eyes narrowed.
"…What if ze egg is charmed against Summoning Spells?" she shot back, as if trying to find fault in his logic. "What if eet cannot be summoned?"
Severus met her gaze. Typical blaming behaviour. It was quick karmic on how his own teenage behaviour was being repeated on him. Even in the past life as a teacher, he had received enough teenage disrespect. But then again, he had always brushed it up to his Karma as a teenager.
"Then we would have learned something valuable by attempting it," he said simply. "For how may we know for certain if we don't try? And how can we not try, when the means lie within our reach?"
Fleur stared at him.
Then she sat back against the pillows, looking conflicted.
Gabrielle, who had been watching the entire exchange with wide eyes, suddenly burst into giggles. "Fleur, il te fait trop réfléchir" she said between laughs.
Severus merely gave her a faint smirk. Ofcourse, he knew little French. If the French of this world was the same as his own. The little girl was saying along the lines that he was making her sister think intensely or something.
Fleur, however, looked less amused. She was clearly mulling over his words, her pride warring with her frustration.
Apolline placed a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You 'ave time, ma chérie," she said softly. "You will figure eet out."
Fleur let out a slow breath and nodded, though she still seemed deep in thought.
Grant clapped his hands together. "Well, now that that's settled, I think Miss Delacour should rest. She's had quite the day already."
Severus inclined his head. "Then I'll take my leave."
Jean extended his hand once more. "Merci again, Monsieur Blackwood. We are in your debt."
Severus shaked his hand. Clearly, his actions had saved a life. Perhaps, it was enough of a payment for revealing his skills and losing an advantage.