Blake's eyes lit up as Snape asked about his daughter. So that was why there had been such a fuss. Snape had completely forgotten in the chaos. But Blake hadn't—his big treasure chest was at stake!
"Come on, come on… let's talk somewhere else."
With a casual swipe of his hand, Blake conjured a dimensional door. Before Snape could resist, Blake pulled him through it, shoulder to shoulder. The friendly gesture made it seem as if Snape hadn't just been chasing him down moments ago.
Snape would've protested, but Blake was too strong. If he wanted to, he could drag someone Hagrid's size through the door with ease. Compared to that, Snape was thin as a telephone pole. Before his feet even left the ground, he was already through.
When the swirling sensation subsided, Snape found himself in an unfamiliar place—a flat mountaintop. Around them, several witches and wizards paused their tasks to glance their way. A few half-built wooden houses were scattered across the terrain.
Blake turned to a thin, gray-robed old man sitting on a rock, smoking a pipe.
"Old Repp, is there a place where we can talk?"
Repp took a slow drag from his pipe, glanced at Snape with mild curiosity, then pointed toward a brand-new wooden cabin not far away. Without hesitation, Blake led the way.
Snape tugged his robes tightly around himself and followed. As they walked, an odd feeling nagged at him. When Repp had looked at him, he'd felt the same way he did under Dumbledore's gaze...
Blake pushed open the cabin door. Inside was sparse: a square table, a few rough wooden chairs, and a pile of plates stacked on the table. Clearly, it was a temporary dining space.
Blake plopped down onto a cushioned chair and gestured for Snape to sit. Snape eyed the rough, splintered wood skeptically. His lips twitched when he noticed Blake's soft cushion.
You thief. You sit on a cushioned chair and expect me to sit on this?
With a flick of his wand, Snape transformed the crude chair into a comfortable armchair before settling down. Blake shot him an indignant look.
"I've never seen such a nice chair in your office!"
Snape merely sipped a potion from his pocket and cast a contemptuous glance at him.
"Of course, I have a comfortable chair," he said. "It's in my bedroom, where only I use it."
Blake scoffed. "Alright, alright, you win. But wait… is that a calming potion?"
Snape gritted his teeth. "Whose fault do you think that is?"
Even the potion couldn't suppress his irritation. If Blake hadn't barged in earlier, his Elixir of Joy wouldn't have been ruined, and he wouldn't need a substitute.
Snape took another sip, trying to remain composed.
"Enough nonsense. Tell me—about my daughter."
Snape fixed Blake with a sharp gaze. He still wasn't sure what Blake meant, but something told him it wasn't a joke.
Blake ignored his urgency, producing a bottle of milk tea from nowhere. He twisted off the cap and took a sip.
"Ugh, no straw…"
Snape downed another gulp of calming potion before he lost his patience entirely.
Blake smirked. "Have you ever heard of biotechnology?"
Snape frowned. "That sounds like a Muggle term."
Blake shot him a knowing look. "Who says there's a hard line between Muggle and wizard knowledge? Ever thought of combining them?"
Snape didn't respond. Blake continued.
"Even without Muggle advancements, wizards have been researching this for ages. Take the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets—an unintended byproduct of experiments. Acromantulas? Bred as guardians. These creatures don't exist naturally. They're artificial."
Snape stiffened. "Enough! Those experiments create monsters!"
Blake, for once, wasn't flippant.
"Not necessarily, Professor Snape."
Snape scoffed. "Name one example that isn't a monster."
Blake pointed to himself. "Me."
Snape blinked. "You?"
Blake nodded. "Didn't Dumbledore ever tell you how I came to be?"
It hit Snape like a thunderclap. He'd been so occupied fighting Blake all these years that he had forgotten—Blake wasn't naturally born.
A life from the laboratory.
An artificial being created from the blood of Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
If Grindelwald's experiment had succeeded then… could it succeed now?
Snape's mind raced, but he hid his thoughts. "Who says you aren't a monster? You're an outright little beast."
Blake grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment, Professor. Now… do you want a little monster of your own?"
Snape fell silent. He understood now—Blake was suggesting using the same biotechnology that had created him… to give Snape a daughter.
If anyone else had said this, Snape would've dismissed it outright. But Blake?
Despite their friction, Snape couldn't deny Blake's genius. If anyone could succeed, it was him.
And how could Snape not want this? Even if the child lacked Blake's talents… so what?
But…
His eyes gleamed with hope.
"Can you—"
"No," Blake interrupted firmly.
Snape stiffened. He didn't have to finish to know what Blake meant.
He had been about to ask if Lily could be resurrected.
But that was impossible.
Even if they used biotechnology, the most they could do was clone Lily's body. Whether that body would have intelligence was uncertain. Even if it did, it wouldn't be Lily. It would be something—someone—else.
The light in Snape's eyes dimmed. He took another long sip of his potion.
But soon, he straightened. "What's your success rate? How can you ensure the life you cultivate has a soul?"
Blake shrugged. "Manufactured bodies don't, but cultivated life does."
Snape frowned. "What's the difference?"
Blake explained, "Grindelwald's people rushed the process, creating an empty shell. But my method is different—we grow life from an embryo in a biological petri dish. It's a completely different approach."
Snape scrutinized him. "You've mastered this?"
Blake grinned. "Of course! I know my own origins. How could I not be curious? Hogwarts' curriculum is too easy for me—I needed something more to study."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Why are you doing this for me? What do you want?"
Blake couldn't exactly say, "I want a supreme treasure chest from you," so he settled for something Snape would understand.
"This is an experiment, Severus. If it succeeds, you'll have a daughter and won't die alone. I'll gain valuable research data to refine my techniques."
He leaned back. "Even if it fails, it's just a loss of gold. Isn't that what money is for?"
Snape's breathing grew heavy. He had to take another sip of his potion to steady himself.
Finally, he asked, "What do you need me to do?"
Blake held out a hand. "Anything of Lily's? Hair?"
Snape hesitated. "I… I don't have any."
Blake sighed. "Then I'll have to ask Harry—"
Before he could finish, Snape shoved a small package into his hands.
"Never involve the Potters," he growled.
Blake unwrapped it slightly, revealing a strand of red hair.
"Wow. You actually kept this?" Blake smirked. "Professor Snape, why do you have another man's wife's hair?"
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