Good or bad, does it matter?{HP}

A few minutes later, the nurse outside, who had earlier brought Severus to the Chief Healer, heard a click as Severus exited the room, calmly closing the door behind him with a small, self-assured smile directed at her. She was somewhat surprised to see him leave so soon. Based on Barnett's earlier disgruntled muttering and frown upon reviewing Severus's work, she had expected a longer discussion, maybe even an extended confrontation. The fact that they had wrapped things up in just five minutes left her slightly puzzled.

The young man, however, seemed to anticipate her curiosity, offering an explanation before she could even ask. "I gave him the revised work," he said nonchalantly, "and he asked not to be disturbed for the next three hours."

"Oh, I see. Thank you for passing it on, then," she replied with a polite nod, the slight confusion dissipating from her expression. She turned and left without further inquiry, which caught Snape off guard. He had expected at least a few questions, perhaps some suspicion. But as he picked up on her superficial thoughts, his smile tightened. Her indifference stemmed from frustration; apparently, the old man had been a persistent nuisance with his frequent pestering and subtle, unwelcome hints.

"Perhaps I should consider luring her over to my side… such a good person shouldn't go to waste," he mused, filing the thought away for later.

Under his cloak, Nagini, his familiar, broke her silence with a sigh. "Aren't you being a little… harsh on him?" she asked, glancing back at the door they had just exited. She hadn't witnessed the full extent of Barnett's "punishment," but the muffled sounds from within had given her enough insight into the pain the man had likely endured.

The Prince merely chuckled, unbothered. "I could've been far harsher," he replied, heading toward the main counter with the fireplaces. "It's people like him who stymie progress, and that negligence keeps the mortality rate among wizards frustratingly high. Instead of advancing, they cling to outdated notions."

"How do you mean?" she asked, curious.

"Diseases, viruses, dark spells—they all evolve continuously. Yet in the last hundred and fifty years, there's been little progress in magical medicine. There's a trove of knowledge right at our fingertips, but people like Barnett would rather turn a blind eye. These 'traditionalists' not only ignore potential solutions but even forbid others from using them. That's what irritates me most, so I admit—I lost my patience a little."

"And I'm guessing he won't be reporting this to the Ministry any time soon?" she ventured with a hint of embarrassment. Her observation drew a wicked grin from the wizard.

"Not likely. And even if he had the mind to, let's just say I left a few reminders to dissuade him," he replied with a hint of amusement.

"You really are something else," she said, feigning horror, though unable to stifle a small laugh.

"Better get used to it," he responded playfully, flicking her nose through the cloak.

As they reached the counter, he gave a slight nod to the young woman working there, who returned his gesture with a tired smile, her attention divided between him and a conversation with an elderly wizard nearby.

"So," Nagini began, "what are you planning to do with the human trials you've mentioned?"

"We're not heading home just yet. We're going straight to the Ministry of Magic. I'll need to discuss a few things with Harold, including his promise to supply whatever equipment upgrades the Research Department needs. We'll see if that'll be enough to solve our current problem."

His remark about "a trove of knowledge right at our fingertips" wasn't a rhetorical flourish. Severus's latest research required some of the best Muggle equipment, items he'd carefully described on the final pages of his report along with corresponding rune patterns. Barnett's resistance had been particularly infuriating because Severus had put time and thought into his findings, only to be met with baseless criticism rooted in prejudice. If wizards adopted even a fraction of Muggle advancements, the mortality rate within the magical community could be drastically reduced. Yet people like Barnett, entrenched in the highest ranks, dismissed these ideas outright.

Severus had hoped that perhaps the problem wasn't as pervasive as Madam Pomfrey had implied, suspecting she might have exaggerated the situation. Yet Barnett's attitude proved otherwise. As Severus saw it, the entire system was diseased, rotting from the head down. He knew change couldn't happen overnight, but he hoped that, over time, people like Barnett could be eased out of their positions, replaced by individuals open to progress.

"I have a long life ahead of me," he thought as he reached into a small pouch and retrieved a handful of Floo powder, his mind filled with determination. "If I have to, I'll reform this entire institution myself."

Standing inside the fireplace he scattered the powder into it as he announced his destination. "Ministry of Magic." As the flames turned a vibrant green and surged upward, he was whisked away, feeling a slight cold sensation on his skin.

The conversation with Harold, the Minister of Magic, was surprisingly straightforward. Harold seemed both sympathetic and realistic about the situation, promising to "sort everything out" without Severus having to worry over "such minor annoyances." Yet even he admitted that Barnett's position was nearly unassailable, a reality Severus had already surmised. The Ministry, especially in positions of power, was populated by those just like Barnett—traditionalists entrenched in outdated beliefs. Replacing someone like Barnett would set off a wave of resistance among the elite, who were loath to see one of their own fall.

He recalled similar historical incidents, such as Ottaline Gamble's proposition of using Muggle trains to transport students to Hogwarts, sparking outrage among the elite who found the very idea humiliating.

The idea of sending their precious children in a filthy muggle invention was like an unforgivable to them.

Although the plan ultimately went through, it was not without consequence; Gamble was found dead in her home shortly after leaving office. Given this precedent, Harold preferred to avoid conflict, carefully balancing his reformist aims with the need to maintain his position.

For these reasons, the Ministry's Research Department was one of the few branches not populated by traditionalists. Though some elder wizards worked there, the department was mostly staffed with younger minds—wizards and witches under forty who were willing to adopt Muggle knowledge to enhance their magical work.

And Harold's commitment to incremental reform had already led to a gradual shift in leadership. As older, more stubborn leaders retired, they were replaced by younger, open-minded wizards who continued to push Harold's vision forward.

Even Severus, skeptical as he was, had to admit he was pleasantly surprised by the subtle changes he saw. For years, he had thought the magical world's elite to be rigid and impervious to new ideas. Seeing Harold's careful, quiet success in infiltrating high-ranking positions with innovators proved that reform was possible, even if slow. For now, he decided not to bring up Barnett again. If he played his cards right, it seemed that change would come on its own in due time.

A few days later, he received another summons from the Chief Healer at St. Mungo's, who requested his assistance in person. It was clear that the incident with Barnett had remained under wraps—a relief, given how much of his reputation had been on the line.

This second conversation with Barnett was, thankfully, more amicable. Though the man's earlier arrogance was nowhere in sight, there was a tension that Severus couldn't quite ignore. Barnett even requested his help, albeit begrudgingly, with applying the necessary runes on Muggle equipment to verify Severus's research. Thus, Severus spent the entire day at the hospital, patiently fine-tuning the artifacts.

Of course, he couldn't resist a bit of fun. At every opportunity, he would casually bring up "the incident" and make pointed remarks about Barnett's health, his need for prostate massage, and other embarrassing jabs. While Barnett's outward demeanor remained respectful, Severus sensed his lingering resentment. Yet any notion of revenge had been quashed when Barnett was summoned for a private meeting with the Minister of Magic himself.

The message had been clear: any hostility toward Severus would be answered with swift retribution from the highest office in wizarding Britain.

Moreover, from Harold, he knew who was standing behind the seemingly normal school boy.

Severus, however, had little to fear. Before he'd left the hospital, he had discreetly marked Barnett with a spell that would allow him to monitor the man's thoughts and intentions remotely. If Barnett dared to pursue revenge, Severus would know instantly and could act to protect himself. And, if necessary, he could ensure that Barnett's death would leave no trace linking back to him.

By the end of the day, he left the Chief Healer's office confident that his work was in good hands. His report contained detailed explanations of the Muggle technology and rune patterns required, so he felt little need to further clarify.

Barnett promised to begin preliminary testing immediately, though he privately intended to delay the project by a few weeks. But one last, subtle reminder from Severus convinced him otherwise, and he reluctantly agreed to expedite the process. His fear of Severus—his backing and the Ministry—outweighed his pride, and he abandoned any thought of sabotage.

As Severus returned home that evening, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction. For the first time, he saw a clear path forward. With allies in the Ministry and his groundbreaking research now in testing, he was poised to effect real change in wizarding medicine. As he settled into his chair, his thoughts turned to his next move: implementing the final phase of his research and pushing for further reform in the medical field. While working for his NEWTS.

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