Chapter Text
Severus doesn't think too much of the boy, at first.
Varian Vatter is just another first year, albeit one with a weirdly coloured streak of hair and apparently unable to sit still. Severus has seen worse and he really doesn't care, one way or another - Minerva does, he notes with some amusement, she thinks he might have been pranked. Severus thinks that she sometimes forgets that the point of a prank is either to be funny or to ridicule someone. Vatter clearly thinks nothing of it and the streak isn't nearly as unflattering as it would be if it were a prank.
He is sorted into Ravenclaw and the Hat barely touches his head before announcing it. Flitwick, at his right, is both excited and impressed - he can't sit still either, he notices.
Severus thinks nothing of that peculiar boy, after the Sorting is over and done with - a necessary evil he has to sit through every year.
He thinks his eyes must be permanently stuck to the ceiling, for how much he rolls them when he hears the supposedly older students cheer loudly at every new name.
He only starts noticing him during his first lesson, the week after.
Vatter answers his questions readily, writes everything down quickly and never lets himself be distracted by his classmates or whatever thoughts go through an eleven year old's head.
Even then, he raises an eyebrow and moves on.
This one won't cause any problems, at least.
It takes him two weeks to realize just how wrong he is.
He's having them brew the Cure for Boils, as he always does with the first years. It's simple enough but it's proven time and time again to demonstrate perfectly who will make the class, who hasn't got any talent for it and who is simply too lazy to really try.
The last group is what really bothers him: it's always larger than one would expect from a school of magic. And, really, if they don't feel like trying he doesn't feel like teaching them either.
He walks through the rows of students, observing.
A couple are darker than they should be, they stirred more than five times. A simple mistake but it shows that they're not properly concentrated. Some are lighter, the Snake fangs' powder wasn't fine enough. That will be corrected with practice.
Still, Severus isn't the kind of person that appreciates mistakes.
One student in particular stands out.
Vatter has finished his potion and is messing around with the ingredients.
Severus approaches, ready to snarl and put the brat back in his place. The assignment was to practice until perfect and arrogance isn't a good trait to have, nor is it tolerated in any way. Not in his class.
He stops in his tracks, however, as soon as he's close enough to see the boy's potion.
It's perfect.
It was stirred exactly five times, the fangs were crushed just enough not to make it too shimmery and the Porcupine Quills were added at just the right moment.
He's speechless when he spots the leftover ingredients in glass vials, labeled and ready to be put back in their place.
Not a complete disaster then.
He forgets, for a brief moment, to check just what the boy had been fiddling with. That moment proves to be crucial. The next thing he knows is that a gooey, grey-ish, substance is covering most of the left side of the room. His classmates are grumbling, Snape's own clothes are absolutely covered in that thing and Vatter is smiling sheepishly in the middle of it, huge goggles covering his eyes.
Severus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
Just when he was beginning to look forward to teaching someone capable, Merlin throws this at him.
The next lesson, he keeps a close eye on him, determined to catch the boy in the middle of a prank or something like that - it couldn't have been an accident. You don't mix Horned Slugs, Porcupine Quills and iron powder unless you're a complete idiot looking to cause some chaos or a mad scientist with very bad luck. As the boy is barely 11 years old, it's obviously the first one.
He hopes.
Nevertheless, Vatter keeps an exemplary behaviour during the next three lessons. He completes the Potions successfully, cleans his workspace and writes furiously in a notebook. All throughout the lessons on the Forgetfulness, the Herbicide and the Wiggenweld potions nothing out of the ordinary happens. Besides a few missing pieces of that one ingredient or powder, but it's a first year class and things go missing left and right.
The fourth Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff lesson is the kicker.
It's the last lesson of the day, the students are tired and distracted and Severus is already irritated by a particularly hard lesson with the seventh year Slytherin-Gryffindor class. He can already feel a headache coming up and he just wants to wrap this up and move on, possibly with a glass of Firewhisky.
The Antidote to Common Poisons is tricky but easy enough if one pays close attention to the time and heat. As always, Vatter finishes quickly and efficiently, adding an extra pinch of Unicorn Horns to make it stronger, and Severus nods approvingly and turns his back on him, satisfied in the knowledge that it must have been a one time thing.
Not even five minutes later, he can hear a student gasp and Vatter's joyful exclamations from behind him.
Breathe in.
Severus turns around.
And out.
A neon pink goo encases the boy's legs, it's unbreakable if his attempts at getting free are to go by.
In.
Severus takes a step towards him.
Out.
The boy extracts a vial from his pocket and lets the substance inside drip on the goo.
In
His legs are suddenly free. He spins with his arms held high, whooping loudly.
Out.
There's that headache.
"Vatter, stay after class."
He looks appropriately intimidated. Good.
In the end, Severus doesn't quite manage to scare him into giving his reasons away. The boy stands before him, trembling and cleaning the cauldrons as fast as humanly possible, but he still doesn't give up. He can grudgingly admit that it's kind of admirable, as he's well aware of how terrifying he can be. It doesn't mean he won't make him spill, however. It just means it will take more time than he previously thought.
Severus likes a challenge, every once in a while.
So he starts questioning the boy more, asking why he added that specific ingredient and how he thought to do so in the first place. It's refreshing, to see him answer excitedly, explaining his thought process with ample gestures and demonstrations. This is a student that's genuinely interested in brewing potions and is not afraid to go against the instructions if needed.
He's not always right, of course, but it happens just enough to show talent and a quick mind that reminds Severus of his own eleven year old self.
He doesn't quite realize that he's begun to look forward to those lessons until disaster number six manages to make a hole of considerable size in the wall and his heart misses a beat - Vatter was too close to the explosion to get out unscathed. He can't imagine Fridays and Wednesdays without the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class and the few minutes spent trying to understand the mystery that is the boy's mind.
As he quickly shoos the other students out of the door, Vatter emerges from the fog. He's bleeding by multiple cuts but none of them look deep enough to cause any permanent damage and Severus lets out a relieved sigh before grabbing him by the arm. Poppy isn't happy but it's nothing new for him. The boy is embarrassed, though, and keeps repeating that it was an accident and it doesn't even hurt, really .
The wincing gives it away.
So he leaves Vatter with Poppy and goes back to his classroom to inspect the damage.
It's there, kneeling between the debris, that he sees what caused the explosion.
He wants to slap himself for not seeing it sooner.
On the floor, in the middle of broken cauldrons and vials, there's a tiny piece of lead.
Alchemy.
The boy, Varian Vatter, is messing with alchemy.
Successfully, if the pink goo is sonething to go by.
Severus would be impressed, if only the failed experiments didn't end up blowing his classroom at least once every two weeks.
He really needs that Firewhisky now.
He stops the boy from leaving after the next lesson.
"Mister Vatter, a word."
As Severus watches, Vatter swallows and looks up at him, biting down on his lip.
"I," he makes sure to stress that first word, "do not appreciate you conducting any sort of experiments in my classroom."
"If I could-"
"And," he carries on, discarding the boy's feeble protests,"I would appreciate if you'd refrain from pursuing anything even vaguely related to Alchemy during my lessons."
Vatter deflates at that, obvious discomfort and embarassment etched on his features. Severus rolls his eyes and goes on.
"However," the boy perks up immediately, "As I am the only one in the castle bar the Headmaster with a more than basic knowledge of the subject I'll see about teaching you the basics, if you really are that interested. I don't suppose you'd stop practicing privately, am I right?"
"Ah... sure. I'm not going to-"
"Mister Vatter, don't ever try to lie to me again. Your tells are glaringly obvious."
He blushes, stammering an apology and fiddling with the goggles on his head - and there's got to be a story behind those.
"I'll speak with the Headmaster and let you know."
"Ah... t-thank you, sir!" The boy exclaims, an excited glint in his eyes that promises nothing good - not for Severus, at least.
"Very well, then. You're dismissed."
Albus is over the moon at the prospect of private lessons with a young Alchemist. For a while, Severus dares to hope that he'll take that burden out of his hands - Alchemy was a well known and respected practice but few had the patience for it. Albus hadn't teached someone since 1945, let alone an Alchemist.
It was logical to think he'd want to.
"It will do you good, to take someone under your wings." The Headmaster says, smiling widely.
He sighs, shoulders drooping.
"Albus, surely you're more fit for the role? I'm not an Alchemist, my knowledge is basic." he tries, well aware that the old man had already decided and nothing would make him change idea. Still, trying was never a bad idea.
"From what you've told me, he's advancing rapidly without any help, isn't he?" Dumbledore hummed, deep in thought. "I could ask my good friend Nicholas for some notebooks or essays that would help him but, if what you say is true, then it's not Alchemy the problem."
"It isn't?" Severus snarks.
"No, no. The problem is that the boy, Varian, is experimenting with both Potions and Alchemy. You will teach him the Potion part, of course, and Nicholas' notes and books will suffice for Alchemy."
"Are you sure? Shouldn't he practice with an actual teacher?"
"My dear friend, Alchemy cannot be learned simply through another man's thoughts, half of the experience are the explosive mishaps!"
Severus has never been so close to actually strangling someone and, if the amused glint in the Headmaster's blue eyes was to be trusted, he knew just how much he'd pushed the Potion Master and was enjoying it immensely.
Their first lessons are harsh, they don't quite know how to work together - Varian is focused on Alchemy mostly, while Severus finds himself stunted, often unable to follow the other's thought process fully due to his ignorance in the subject.
So Severus snarks and gets frustrated easily while Varian is discouraged, unable to go further for fear of messing it up. It takes a couple of weeks for them to click, for their elbows to stop clashing over the cauldron and their thoughts to become more open to the other’s. In the end, getting into a pattern is easier than they had expected - Varian does the Alchemy and slows down just enough to explain the wanted result to Severus who, in turn, will teach him which ingredients will produce it.
It's fun and mentally stimulating for both of them. Unsurprisingly, Flamel's books and notes are more than enough for the first year, though Albus has informed them both that his friend has shown an interest in meeting the young Alchemist. Varian is utterly useless that day, too busy fantasizing about the meeting to actually pay attention -
"Don't put those there."
“Mh."
"Mister Vatter? ...Varian?"
"Sure."
"Merlin's beard, get out, we won't get anything done today."
If he'd been hesitant, at first, he had to admit that the boy had grown on him, in those quiet hours spent together.
Really, Severus is almost sad to see him go home during Christmas.
That boy is stubborn and excitable and capable of talking his ears off, but Severus likes spending time with him. Teaching him about potions and their uses and watching his mind develop further.
There's some kind of deep satisfaction that comes with it: the certainty that this boy has a bright future before him and the pride that comes with having a small part in it.
He's never felt this way about teaching before.
He thinks it must be Varian, who reminds him of both himself and Lily - kind and excited, always running around with a new idea. Always striving to be better, not always managing to.
And when some Slytherin student openly laughs at Varian, who tripped and fell in the corridor, Severus can feel himself becoming downright protective. He's going to have words with that particular Slytherin, after - it doesn't matter what you believe in, Slytherins are better and they have to show it. He'd like to tell them not to laugh at anyone but he won't, because they're purebloods and it would be a scandal for them not to treat anyone like they were dirt under their feet, so he'll just say to keep it for when there aren't teachers around. And, possibly, to leave his pupil alone.
Merlin, he has a pupil. What has his life become?
They make real progress after Christmas, Vatter having come back to school full of ideas and ambitions and holding a first edition of his favorite Potions book. He presents it with a toothy smile, friendly and excited as a little kid. Severus fights off a little smile, handing him Flamel’s signed notes in exchange and watching the kid go from “excited” to “absolutely delighted” with a smirk. He places the book on one of his shelves, admiring the leather cover, and prepares the ingredients for their lesson.
By the end of the year, Vatter – Varian – has earned his position on top of the class and not even his snakes’ whining pathetically about it can make him hide how proud he is. The kid smiles and waves at him, hugging close the alchemy notes and exercises Severus gave him to study during the summer – and getting the permissions for those was certainly no joke – and he feels warmth settle in his chest.
They exchange letters during the summer: notes and book recommendations and reports about his progress to his father. Severus’ are short, to the point, avoiding any kind of pleasantry and going atraight to the matter – at first, at least.
Varian’s are the complete opposite, of course. They’re full of ‘how are you’s and rablings about one thing or the other-
...wouldn’t it be cool if I managed to do it, though? Certainly, dragons are dangerous and protected but I’m sure...
...Mister Vatter, frankly, I’m not sure where we would even find a dragon and, while your idea has its merits, I find myself unable to understand what its uses in everyday life would be-
And Severus always manages to find himself writing right back, trying to get back to whatever the Hell the point had been and getting even more lost in the boy’s ideas.
So here he is, after years of coltivating his reputation as a terrifying loner, mentoring a 12 year old future Alchemist with his head perpetually in the clouds that’s probably going to rival Nicholas Flamel himself.
All in all, he is quite content.