Transmigration: Into the Life of Severus Snape-Chapter 60 - 57: Echoes and Algorithms

The silver ink had barely had time to set on Severus's latest set of notes for the Surge Noir, when a realization hit him with an unexpected subtlety. It was as if a quiet whisper had passed through the room, carrying with it a sense of urgency that was at odds with the tranquil setting of his workspace.

"Three original potions," he murmured to himself, the words punctuating the silence of the room. "One certified by the International Confederation of Wizards. Another is already submitted for the ICW review; another illegal potion is completed and ready. And then there's the magical narcotic, still in the early stages of development..."

His hand, accustomed to the fluid dance of his quill, halted abruptly, the tip of the feather suspended just above the parchment. A flicker of unease crossed his features as he tried to grasp at the elusive thought that seemed to flit just beyond his mental reach.

Then, with a clarity that was as startling as it was abrupt, a single word echoed in his mind: Wait.

He blinked, the action serving to underscore the stillness that had enveloped him. Gently, he lowered the quill, setting it down with deliberate precision. There was something he was overlooking—a detail of significance that lay hidden beneath the layers of his recent endeavors.

It wasn't about the potions. It transcended the meticulous craft he had honed over the years. It was about him. The realization dawned on him that he had not been in contact with the system.

The damn system—the intricate network of information and protocol that had once been a cornerstone of his existence—for months.

Since his arrival at Ilvermorny, the renowned North American school of witchcraft and wizardry, his life had been a whirlwind of activity. So much had transpired, so many challenges had been faced and overcome, that he had neglected to maintain his connection to that which had once been so integral to his identity.

His thoughts, once tethered to the expectations and demands of others, had finally become his own. His goals, ambitions, and methods were now deeply rooted in who he was at this moment—a man transformed—not who he had been in the past.

"Eva," he murmured, his voice resonating in the stillness of his workspace, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

For a moment, the room remained silent, as if the very air were holding its breath.

Then—

[SYSTEM ONLINE. ABOUT DAMN TIME, BOSS.]

A sudden pulse of bright, electric-blue glyphs flared into existence before his eyes, dancing and flickering as if projected from the ether itself.

[Three potions, huh? You forget about me for four months, then come crawling back like a toxic ex. Bold of you, I must say.]

Severus rolled his eyes, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite himself.

"You could've said something," he chided, his tone carrying a note of mock severity.

[Oh, I don't initiate conversation. You talk, I answer. This is a reactive AI, not your personal magical secretary. You want a notification system? That's a paid DLC, love.]

He nearly succumbed to the urge to snort at the AI's cheeky retort. The sarcasm was almost endearing—a reminder of the unique bond they shared.

There it was—the sass, the impertinence, the subtle humor that he hadn't realized he'd missed during their time apart. It was as if an old friend had returned, banter and all. The AI's personality, so meticulously crafted, was a stark contrast to the cold, impersonal assistants he had interacted with in the past. It was this—this connection, this familiarity—that made the AI not just a tool, but a companion in his solitary endeavors.

"How long have you been listening?"

[Since you began the intricate process of fermenting dragon fern during the third week of the Rejuvenation trials, I have been attentively observing. Your dedication to the craft is commendable, truly impressive work. I must confess, I was inclined to offer my insights earlier, yet it seemed you had relegated me to the realm of fantasy rather than recognizing my potential as a valuable ally.]

Severus, feeling the weight of his oversight, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that betrayed his frustration. "Fine. I acknowledge your usefulness," he conceded, the words laced with a hint of begrudging respect. "Retroactively, if that satisfies your... protocol."

A digital whisper, almost playful, echoed in the space between them. [Wow. Be still, my synthetic heart. Now then... let's discuss the matter of rewards.]

As if on cue, bright, luminescent text began to scroll before Severus's eyes, detailing potential compensations for the AI's proven contributions.

[System Reward Summary – Milestone Unlocked]

Congratulations on reaching a significant milestone in your alchemical endeavors! Your contributions to the arcane community are notable:

1. The successful submission of your first Original Potion to the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW) – the Rejuvenation Elixir. This potion is known for its restorative properties, and your formulation has been recognized as a valuable addition to the realm of healing magic.

2. Your pioneering spirit has led to the creation of a Legal Advanced Stimulant, the Vigorem Draught. Currently under review by the ICW, this concoction promises to enhance physical prowess and mental acuity. Its potential to benefit the magical populace is vast, and the anticipation for its approval is high.

3. In the realm of shadow and innovation, you have crafted an Experimental Black-Market Formula known as Surge Noir. While its effects are shrouded in mystery, the power it holds is undeniable. This draught represents the cutting edge of magical experimentation, and its creation speaks to your boldness and creativity.

REWARDS ISSUED:

1. Skill Boost: Silver Tongue (Negotiation +10%) - This enhancement is a game-changer for those who find themselves in high-stakes negotiations with the affluent. With Silver Tongue, you'll be able to maintain a gracious demeanor while deftly maneuvering conversations to your advantage. The result? A charming smile as you secure wealth that might otherwise have slipped through your fingers.

2. Inventory Expansion: Rare Alchemical Set (Dark Market Edition) - This exclusive collection is a treasure trove for the alchemist seeking to delve into the realm of narcotic concoctions. It contains a variety of exotic components, such as:

- Crystallized Marrowroot: Known for its potent properties in sustaining mana levels, this ingredient is a staple for any serious practitioner.

- Dreamvine Resin: A key element for amplifying the euphoric sensations of any potion, ensuring the desired effects are not only felt but remembered.

- Black Phoenix Ash: As a premium stabilizing agent, this rare ash is essential for crafting potions with extended durations, maintaining the peak of their potency for hours on end.

3. Knowledge Boost: Illicit Brewing – Theory Only - The acquisition of this forbidden knowledge grants you an insider's view into the clandestine techniques employed by the most elusive brewers across the mystical landscapes of Europe and Asia. The information contained within this unlocked access point isn't just about the creation of these illicit brews; it also encompasses sophisticated methods to evade detection by the most arcane of magical wards, ensuring your activities remain covert. Additionally, you'll learn the intricacies of aura decay mitigation, preserving both the potency and secrecy of your creations over time.

Severus released a long, measured breath, his gaze fixed on the luminous runes as they danced before his eyes, eventually sinking into the depths of his mind. The familiar symbols swirled and mingled with his thoughts, becoming one with his understanding. His fingers, initially betraying a hint of impatience with a solitary twitch, now rested motionless against the cool surface of the table.

This... this was indeed useful. Each reward seemed meticulously crafted to facilitate his subsequent actions, as if the very fabric of the system was woven in anticipation of his needs.

"You always this helpful?" Severus grumbled under his breath, the words carrying a trace of begrudging acknowledgment.

[Only when you're not being a sulky genius with control issues. You might be a prodigy, but I'm the reason you're not still crying over garlic and boomslang.]

"I don't cry," Severus retorted, the denial automatic, almost reflexive.

[Sure. And murtlap doesn't sting.]

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Severus's mouth, though he fought to suppress it. "You're sassier than I remember," he conceded, his voice laced with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

[Maybe you're just less uptight than you used to be.]

The system responded with a brief flicker, a subtle dimming that hinted at a momentary disruption, a hiccup in its steady rhythm. It was an anomaly that did not escape Severus's notice, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he contemplated the implications of this unexpected behavior.

Then: [...Speaking of which.]

His attention was drawn by the echo of a familiar voice. "Hmm?"

[Your memory decay has begun.]

The words were icy fingers trailing down his spine.

"What?" Severus's voice was a mere whisper, his mind racing to compre the weight of the situation.

[Don't panic. This was always going to happen. You've been here too long.]

"Who am I kidding?" he muttered under his breath, attempting to maintain a facade of calm. The reality was sinking in, and with it came a tidal wave of apprehension.

[You're Severus Shafiq now. Your soul, your core, your aura—they're adapting to this world. George's memories weren't permanent—they were layered into your consciousness during rebirth. Useful, but not meant to last forever.]

The revelation hit Severus like a sledgehammer. George's memories, once crisp and defining, were fading like the last rays of a setting sun. His identity was a palimpsest, overwritten by time and circumstance.

Severus's stomach twisted into knots. He raked through the recesses of his mind, searching for the familiar—the comforting vision of his parents' house in London, the bitter taste of burnt instant coffee, the satisfaction derived from his work as a content creator. Yet, these once clear images were now shrouded in mist, their outlines barely discernible, theirasing at the edge of his consciousness like an elusive dream.

The transformation was undeniable. His very essence was slaping into something new, something peculiar to this world that had, until now, been a silent observer to his internal odyssey.

Severus Shafiq, once a vessel of layered realities, was now adrift in a sea of uncertainty, his anchor lines to the past slowly being severed by the relentless tides of this new world.

He remembered being George, but the recollection was vague, more a silhouette than a portrait. The specifics eluded him, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. He was left with mere impressions, a fleeting sense of what George was like, the essence of his character, but not the intricate tapestry of his experiences. Not the fine details that gave his life its unique texture and color.

"I didn't notice," he whispered to himself, a soft acknowledgment of his own inattention. The truth was, he hadn't needed to notice. That was the nature of memory—it faded silently, steadily, much like the way fog dissipates from a windowpane, gradually revealing the clear glass beneath. It was a quiet departure, one that often went unnoticed until the clarity of what once was had vanished completely.

[Because you didn't need to. That's how memory fades. Quietly. Like fog leaving glass.]

Severus found his gaze drawn to his hands, which rested quietly in his lap. They were still, devoid of any tremor that might betray fear or uncertainty. He felt neither of those emotions. Yet, as he studied the lines and contours of his palms, he couldn't shake a peculiar emptiness, a sense of absence. It was as if he had been holding onto something unawares, an unseen weight, and only now did he recognize its presence by its sudden absence. He was haunted by the realization that he had let go of something that was once a part of him, something that belonged to George, and it left him with a newfound hollowness, an unexpected void in his soul.

"Will I forget everything?" he asked, a tremor of uncertainty in his voice.

[The essence of what you've learned, the core of your being, that will not vanish. The knowledge you've gained, the instincts you've honed, they are etched into the very fabric of your soul. Yet, the specifics of the man you once were, the vivid recollections that dance through your mind, they will gently recede, like the tide withdrawing from the shore. They will become the stuff of legends, tales told by firesides, a guiding dream that once offered wisdom, but no longer tethers you to the past.]

He fell into a contemplative silence, his gaze fixed on a spot only he could see. The minutes stretched out, as if reluctant to intrude upon his reverie.

Then, with a quiet acquiescence, he nodded, a decision settling within him.

"Good," he uttered, the single word carrying the weight of resolution. "George served his purpose."

His eyes lifted to meet the gaze of his reflection in the mirror across from him. There, he saw not the face of the man he had been, but the visage of a boy imbued with the wisdom of ages.

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