In the shared estimation of Severus Snape and Rubeus Hagrid, the school-age Amossta Blaine was a boy defined by low-profile withdrawal and a near-pathological solitariness. Even Amossta himself would not deny the accuracy of that assessment.
However, this was not because Amossta was naturally a cold or distant wizard.
One had to remember: Blaine was an "outsider." Before arriving at Hogwarts, he had spent years believing he had simply been reincarnated into a parallel version of Earth. He had spent the first eleven years of his life painstakingly adapting to a country with cultural customs and social rhythms entirely alien to his previous life. He had exhausted his mental energy re-learning the academic knowledge of his youth, desperately preparing for a conventional future.
Then, the Hogwarts acceptance letter arrived, shredding his plans and rendering his previous efforts utterly worthless.
The reason for his jarring disconnect from his surroundings during his first few years at school was easily explained.
First, the sheer existence of magic had violently upended the worldview Amossta had cultivated over nearly thirty collective years of life across two worlds. For years, he lived in a state of cognitive dissonance—forced to acknowledge that magic was real while simultaneously trying to apply "scientific logic" to explain its mechanics. It was enough to give a man a split personality.
Second, the fragmented, unreliable memories of the "plot" in his mind were a source of constant torment. Amossta knew he was in a visceral, living world, not a children's book. Here, magical creatures were lethal, curses were insidious, and Dark Wizards were bloodthirsty. He remembered names, but the nuances of their characters and the twists of their fates were lost in a gray fog. In this world, caution wasn't a choice; it was his primary means of survival.
In Hagrid's eyes, the coldness and isolation Amossta faced from his fellow Slytherins were tragic. To Amossta, they were trivial. After all, his young body housed the soul of a mature man; the petty politics of eleven-year-olds could not touch him.
Severus Snape was the only wizard at the school Amossta truly respected, and the reasons for that bond were rooted in Amossta's desperate financial situation.
Back then, Amossta was destitute. The meager school bursary covered second-hand books and basic supplies, but it couldn't fund his advanced independent study. To save himself from poverty, Amossta began brewing and selling potions in secret during his second year. He started small, using cheap ingredients from the student stores to turn a modest profit.
By the end of his third year, he landed a massive commission: a long-lasting Invisibility Potion worth eighty Galleons.
Amossta left nothing to chance. He used the Disillusionment Charm to slip into the Restricted Section at midnight for research, and he asked Snape seemingly casual, roundabout questions regarding the potion's stabilization. He couldn't afford a mistake; the client didn't provide materials, and a single Demiguise tail feather—the potion's most vital ingredient—cost six Galleons. The recipe required five. A failure would wipe out his entire savings.
Inevitably, disaster struck. Due to his lack of practical experience, Amossta miscalculated the dosage of Abyssinian shriveled fig juice. The potion was ruined.
Amossta spiraled into a deep depression for days. Yet, a week later, just before Potions class, he went to his usual supply locker and found a bundle of ten Demiguise feathers waiting for him. Such precious materials had no business being in a student's locker.
During the subsequent lecture on Confusing Concoctions, Professor Snape—looking as stony-faced as ever—suddenly veered into a tangent about the stabilization of invisibility drafts.
It was then Amossta realized that his "secret" business had been under the watchful eye of his Head of House all along. This happened several more times over the years; both maintained a silent, unspoken pact of mutual understanding.
Because of this, Amossta began to trust Severus Snape. Before that, he had been wary; he had heard the whispers from older Slytherins that Snape had once been a follower of the great Dark Lord, escaping the Wizengamot only through Dumbledore's intervention.
Despite his bond with his Dean, Amossta's philosophy of keeping a low profile remained unchanged. He moved through the school like a ghost, avoiding conflict and hiding his brilliance to avoid the envy of his peers. This continued until his fifth year, when an unexpected event shattered his silence.
It was late November, 1986.
The winter that year was exceptionally brutal. Philena, now eighty-four, did not live to see the Christmas holidays. She was the woman who had raised him, a grandmother in every sense who had dedicated her life to charity. Her passing was a crushing blow.
But because it was his O.W.L. year, his academic load was suffocating. There was no time for grief. After a hurried funeral, Amossta was forced to return immediately to school to continue his studies.
The clock struck midnight in early December, 1986.
The night was a heavy velvet shroud. A biting wind whipped across the freezing Black Lake, making the ice shards crackle like Inferi gnawing on bone. Confirming his roommates were fast asleep, Amossta sat up, his face an impassive mask. He dressed quietly and retrieved a small frame containing a black-and-white photograph from a hidden compartment by his bed.
The Slytherin common room was silent. The sickly green lamps, the rough stone walls, and the empty carved armchairs made the long, low-ceilinged room feel more like a sepulcher than a lounge. Unlike Gryffindors, Slytherins weren't prone to midnight wanderings. Amossta navigated the dizzying maze of corridors without encountering a soul.
Even if he had, he wasn't worried. His mastery of the Disillusionment Charm was such that he could move in total silence and invisibility; even Filch's malnourished cat couldn't detect his passing.
"Hey there, little one. I think you might be lost!"
As he crossed the Entrance Hall, a voice from the marble staircase caught his ear. He looked up and saw Bill Weasley—a Gryffindor Prefect and the eldest of the Weasley clan—speaking to a terrified Hufflepuff first-year.
"Get back to bed, quickly, or I'll have to take you to see Professor Sprout."
"Yes—yes, Prefect Weasley! Going now!" The boy scrambled away, bowing in gratitude for the lack of a point deduction or detention.
Bill Weasley ran a hand through his long hair, humming a tune as he continued his patrol. Amossta watched from the shadows. Bill, the golden son of the Weasley family, was a titan at Hogwarts—beloved by staff and students alike for his charisma and brilliance.
But among the older Slytherins, Bill Weasley was loathed. They viewed him as a traitor to the "Old Families" for his association with Muggle-borns, and they frequently plotted to "teach him a lesson." Every attempt ended with the Slytherins being thrashed by Bill and his brother Charlie, no matter how many people they brought.
Consequently, Bill had become the public enemy of every Slytherin fifth-year and above—especially with the rumor that Dumbledore intended to make him Head Boy in his seventh year.
Amossta offered a silent, thin smile and turned toward the Forbidden Forest. None of that drama concerned him. After all, no one would be foolish enough to expect a transparent, unremarkable Slytherin to challenge the sun-bright pride of Gryffindor.