Snape, Sleek as Oil

In the evening, Regulus left the Library, intending to go to the Great Hall for dinner.

Snape stood in the darker corner of the Corridor.

It's the same spot. Last time, his face turned completely black as he waited here to report on Rababstan Lestrange's situation.

It's been almost a month since school started, and Snape still hasn't shown up.

Two contracts, Silver Moon Potions and the Bobbins Herbs and Potions, were looming before him for Christmas, and the thirty-day deadline for a response had already passed. Regulus hadn't paid attention to this matter; Snape would definitely choose one. Given his situation and his urgency regarding the current state of affairs, he had no reason not to choose; the only question was which one to choose.

Bobbins, on the surface, has no connection with the Black family.

Snape earned the contract through his own abilities; he was highly talented and lucky. Others could only envy him, and at most make a few sour remarks.

His pride could be preserved, his self-esteem could be maintained; he, Severus Snape, relied on his abilities.

Silver Moon, a long-established shop in Diagon Alley, has been open for almost a hundred years.

Anyone who has worked in the UK Potions industry knows that Silvermoon is the Black family's industries, a brand passed down through generations.

Choosing Silvermoon means siding with Black; anyone with eyes can see that.

Given the current situation, no one would necessarily object to choosing Silvermoon.

After the Christmas Banquet, countless Pureblood families wanted to get close to Black but couldn't find a way, Snape, a Half-bloods -blood, managed to make that connection. There will be more sour talk, but that's about it.

Regulus could roughly guess what Snape was struggling with.

He was arrogant enough to believe that with his Potions talent, his future would be bright no matter what.

The path to Potions Master is laid out before him. Once he reaches that point and stands at the pinnacle of the industry, who will remember that he grew up in Spinner's End wearing ill-fitting robes?

That was simply the path he had taken.

But he was also insecure enough; he knew his current situation all too well. His Potions talent was something for the future.

Right now, he's just that poor Snape, wearing the same old robes he's had for years, the collar worn and frayed, a down-on-his-luck lad from Spinner's End. He has the skills to make a name for himself in the future, but not enough to change anything now.

Snape is stuck here. His arrogance makes him feel he shouldn't depend on anyone, while his inferiority complex tells him that he can't change his current predicament without dependence. These two conflicting forces are what make Snape so conflicted.

Choosing Silvermoon, in his own view, was tantamount to becoming dependent on it.

No matter how good the conditions, no matter how high the profit sharing, no matter how generous the supplier treatment Black offered, even if it was the best in the entire UK Potions industry, so what? Wearing the name Silvermoon means wearing Black's label. When his works are sold, people will think of Silver Moon Potions first, and then Severus Snape.

With his pride, he couldn't swallow it, but with his inferiority complex, he knew he had no choice but to swallow it.

There's also the issue of Lestrange.

Choosing Silvermoon is a bad idea, in case Lestrange still has the resources to pursue the matter. As a Half-bloods with no background, he would be the first to be eliminated.

Choosing Bobbins is at least safe; on the surface, he has no connection with Black, and no one can find anything wrong with him.

So he needs to find out what's going on with Lestrange first.

But Snape's family was so poor they couldn't even afford newspapers, so he had to stay cooped up in Spinner's End during the holidays and knew nothing about what was happening outside.

Until the start of the school year, Snape saw everything from the corner.

He stayed on the edge of the crowd all night, unnoticed by anyone, while he observed everyone else.

But he didn't act immediately. He began to observe Rababstan, who was still in school, but was completely different from before.

Last semester, Rababstan was surrounded by a group of people, walked with a swagger, and acted like a little leader in the Slytherin Common Room.

Now that his followers had all dispersed, he ran into Rababstan in the Corridor. Rabastan walked with his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

He used to sit in the middle of the Slytherin table and talk very loudly, but now he sits at the end of the table, eats in silence, and leaves as soon as he's done. Rababstan is trying hard to avoid being seen.

The fact that a Lestrange has reached this point in Slytherin speaks volumes.

Snape watched for a week, then another week, and finally confirmed that he wasn't faking it, and that there was no bigger commotion behind him.

The threat posed by the Lestrange family, at least within Hogwarts, no longer exists.

With the risk resolved and the contract still awaiting him, Snape signed the contract in his Dormitory one evening—the Silvermoon Contract.

He came today.

From a distance, he still looked the same: a dark, thin figure with sallow skin, greasy hair hanging down on both sides of his face, and a gloomy expression.

Regulus took a few steps forward and noticed the difference.

The robe is new, and the material is much better than before; it's thicker and has a better drape.

The cuffs were neatly hemmed, the collar was flat and clean, and the hem length was finally right.

With her wrists and ankles completely covered, she was clad in pure black fabric, looking much more presentable than before.

But it's still black.

Pure black, from collar to hem, even the buttons were black. He was still a little bat, only now he had a new coat of fur that was slick and shiny. When Snape saw him approach, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze drifting to the other side of the Corridor, his lips pursed, exuding an aura of "I just happened to be standing here."

Regulus's gaze swept over and fell upon a Silver Badge, the size of a fingernail, gleaming in the lamplight at the fold of his collar. It was a supplier certification from Silver Moon Potions.

There are two certification systems in the Potions industry.

It's official, it's the formal qualification from the Potions Guild.

Potions is a highly prestigious and genuine professional title in the UK Wizarding World.

Obtaining association certification is such a lengthy process that it deters most people.

To become a NEWT Potions, one must achieve an outstanding grade and then submit an application to the association.

The exams cover three areas: basic Potions, advanced Potions, and experimental Potions. Failing any one area means starting over. Even after passing, the process isn't over. Participants must complete at least a two-year internship under the guidance of a registered Potions, submitting Potions research reports and mixing records every quarter, which are periodically reviewed by the association's review committee.

Only after passing all the tests can one obtain the gold certification badge engraved with the association's crest and serial number, which can be openly worn on the outside of one's robes. The entire process will take at least five to six years after graduating from Hogwarts.

No more than twenty people in the entire UK receive official certification each year.

The Potions Department at St Mungo's's, the researchers in the Department of Potions Control of the Ministry of Magic, and the core members of various Potions laboratories are mostly certified Potions. Holding this certificate signifies status; it allows one to open a potion shop, be officially registered, or serve as an advisor to the Ministry of Magic.

Snape was far from that point; he was only in third grade.

But Silvermoon has another system.

Silver Moon Potions has been in Diagon Alley for almost a hundred years, a brand run by the Black family for generations.

Silvermoon's position in the UK Potions industry is based on its nearly 100 years of stable quality and stringent quality control standards.

Silvermoon's quality control is even stricter than the Potions Guild's. The association is in charge of whether something can be sold, while Silvermoon is in charge of whether someone is worthy of being associated with Silvermoon.

Suppliers who pass Silvermoon's internal quality control will be awarded a small silver badge by Silvermoon.

It's small, unremarkable, and nothing special to the untrained eye.

But within the Potions industry, this badge signifies recognition by the Silvermoon and endorsement by the Black family's nearly century-old reputation.

It represents quality, and also recognition from within the industry and from the most discerning customer base.

Many Potions with years of experience cannot pass Silvermoon's quality control.

Snape tucked it inside his robe, standing normally, so it wasn't visible from the outside.

He came to wait for Regulus wearing a new robe, and from this angle, in this pose, he made sure that anyone who approached could see the Silver Light inside his collar.

He wanted Regulus to see it.

I've probably already figured it out: in certain situations, I'll subtly show it off in front of knowledgeable people.

Those who recognize this badge are certainly knowledgeable; most are Pure-bloods, but there are also knowledgeable Half-bloods or Muggle-borns outside the school.

Show this badge to those people, and without saying a word, the badge will speak for itself.

For Snape, this badge probably meant more than the new robe.

He wanted it so badly.

He wanted to be recognized, to have influence, and to walk into a room where people saw his abilities and status, not just that he was a poor wretch from Spinner's End.

So he pinned it inside, unassuming and unassuming, only letting those who should see it see it when needed.

Regulus walked up to him.

Snape's expression remained unchanged, his chin slightly raised, his whole demeanor stiff.

His voice was flat. "Black."

Regulus replied, his voice even flatter. "Snape."

The two stared at each other for a moment in the shadows of the Corridor.

Snape waited a few seconds, and seeing that Regulus didn't seem inclined to say anything more, he nodded slightly, turned, and left.

The dark shadow stretched long in the torchlight. The new robe was made of soft material, and the hem swayed gently with each step, looking much better than the old robe. After a few steps, it turned the corner at the end of the Corridor and disappeared.

Regulus stood there, watching the direction he had left in.

Snape chose the Silver Moon, leaning towards Black, but didn't show it publicly, hiding the mark inside, making his choice half-hidden and half-revealed.

They made the choice, but maintained their independence and did not raise the flag.

I chose your side, but I am still myself, not your vassal.

Regulus didn't care.

In his eyes, Snape was never positioned as an outsider like Lina or Samuel.

Those two people depend on his system and operate within his framework; their potential depends on how much space he is willing to give them.

Snape was different; he was too proud, so proud that he had to retain a certain degree of autonomy.

But it doesn't matter, Regulus doesn't need him as a follower.

Severus Snape, a future Potions Master, possesses profound knowledge of Dark Arts, is adept at patience, and is meticulous in his thinking; he is an extremely valuable asset.

If this cooperative relationship can be maintained in a proper way, his value far exceeds that of anyone else in the group.

Cooperation, value exchange, and clear rules.

Within this framework, Snape is at least treated as a person.

Compared to the humiliation and coercion he received from Lestrange, this was the best he could find in Slytherin.

Regulus looked away.

Let's go eat.

At 8 PM, at the end of the Third Floor Corridor, in Abandoned Classroom.

Regulus pushed open the door. The interior was the same as before, with tables and chairs pushed to the sides, clearing space in the middle. A thin layer of dust covered the wooden floor. Moonlight streamed in through the high window, cutting several long, silvery-white stripes on the floor.

No one has ever been here.

Baruk jumped out of the inner pocket, his eight legs thumping as he ran under the table, curling himself into a dark red ball of fur.

Not long after, the door opened.

Lily stood in the doorway, slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed, and a few strands of her red hair framing her face, looking a little disheveled.

When she saw him, her eyes crinkled and a smile bloomed on her face.

She was wearing Gryffindor robe, deep red with gold trim, and a scarf wrapped twice around her neck. Her nose was a little red from the cold, probably from running all the way from the tower.

She closed the door, turned to look at Regulus, tilted her head, and said in a clear, crisp voice with a rising tone at the end, "Professor Regulus."

Regulus stood with his hands behind his back, chin slightly raised, and said in a serious tone, "Lily."