Chapter Text
Once upon a time, there was a scrawny, poor boy with eyes darker than a moonless night. A boy who used to believe in fairness, second chances, and friendship. A boy who naively had thought hard work, honesty and talent could raise him from poverty and earn him respect.
That boy did not exist anymore. One word, one slip under pressure, had cost him everything. His dreams, his hopes, his only friend.
The shell that remained was in the shape of a 16-year-old, sullen, skinny, teenage boy. Inside him dwelled regrets, insecurity, confusion, and a freely spinning moral compass. And that shell was named Severus Snape.
This morning, Severus opened his eyes at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, in the Slytherin dormitory, to stare up at his familiar four-poster bed. The mattress was soft and there were no cobwebs in the corners, but still, it wasn’t a good morning. Not at all. It was the first day of his sixth year, and the memories of the train ride the day before came crashing back to him.
Damn it, why am I dogged by misfortune? It was exactly what he had dreaded, the whole summer. He had known his first meeting with Lily for the term would be critical, considering their fallout in the spring, and it had gone as badly as could be expected.
While Severus subconsciously had been more than certain that his and Lily’s fallout was permanent, he had clung to a rather childish dream that Lily would have forgiven him by the start of the term. Like nothing had ever happened. Like she hadn’t smirked at his dirty underwear. Like he hadn’t lost his last shard of self-control and called her “mudblood”.
He closed his eyes and analyzed his memories, as the train ride already was replaying vividly on repeat in his mind.
The day had started exactly like all other Hogwarts trips. With the usual secrecy and hush-hush of hiding magic from his father, his mother, Eileen, had woken him early in the morning. Tobias had been snoring on the sofa, still passed out from a bottle of booze.
She had side-along apparated him to a calm spot hidden between the trees in Victoria Embankment Gardens, the same spot they always used. Then Eileen had shrunk his trunk and added a featherweight charm so he wouldn’t have to carry it to the Charing Cross Station.
She had given him a faint smile, a hard-boiled egg and a couple of apples they had pilfered from a neighborhood garden before leaving.
“Just remember child, things aren’t so good at home, you are better off at school until next summer,” she had smiled while reaching out to squeeze his shoulder with her right hand.
The reminder had been unnecessary, but as always, he had agreed. He didn’t need any encouragement to stay away from home.
She hadn’t reminded him how to enlarge his trunk once at school. It wasn’t necessary anymore. She hadn’t given him any speeches about being a good boy, and all that, either. She trusted him, as he never returned with anything other than excellent grades.
It was questionable for her to trust him. Severus was already dreaming of what magic he would get to try during the year. Spells, curses and hexes, sneaked out from books in the restricted section. Experiments in solitude in empty classrooms and at the edge of the forbidden forest. Magic that many others would consider nightmares, were it to appear in their dreams.
After the worst summer in Severus’s life, he was returning; back to magic, back to Hogwarts, back to the world where he belonged.
Severus had used the hours until the train departed to explore London, scavenging for dropped change, old newspapers or abandoned books at the railway station. Entertainment for the train ride, that he couldn’t afford to buy.
Yesterday he had slipped onto platform 9 ¾ just before the train was about to leave, to avoid being spotted by the marauders or the top dogs of Slytherin. It wouldn’t do to let his bullies catch him before the term had officially started.
He had sat down in an empty compartment with a smug smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. He had managed to board the train unnoticed. As a bonus, someone had abandoned a week-old copy of the Daily Prophet on a bench by the platform, conveniently left for him to snatch.
Severus had skimmed the paper, while central London quickly shifted into suburbs. He had been starved of news after living isolated from the magical society over the summer. There had indeed been some recent developments, a huge headline covered the center pages:
“VOLDEMORT: THE ATTACKS ON THE MUGGLE-BORNS ARE NECESSARY”.
The Dark Lord, the everlasting source of gossip, whispers and admiration in Slytherin, was clearly gaining power if there were open attacks. These were sinister times for muggle-borns, blood traitors, and half-bloods alike. Even Severus, who held no real interest in politics, understood that the situation was desperate.
Not that he could do anything other than observe, he knew his place: he was born below the first rung of the social ladder. His best chance of climbing it went with his grandparents.
Eileen had always believed that her father, the senior Lord Prince, would acknowledge Severus as an heir once he proved himself worthy of the title. Severus would become wealthy and powerful. Eileen had whispered promises of a brighter future to Severus when things had been hard at home. It turned out to be empty words, things that could have been in an alternate universe.
Severus learned his lesson; good things don’t come to those who wait.
The Prince-line had officially been erased from history, when his grandparents died in a sudden outburst of dragon pox in his fourth year. Without a will and with Eileen being disowned, the modest manor and their family vault had been claimed by the Wizengamot.
A crease between Severus’s brows had slowly been deepening when he read about the attacks, there had even been one in Diagon Alley. The thought of innocent wizards and witches dying had given him goosebumps. He did agree with some of the Dark Lord’s ideologies, but being half-blood and raised in a muggle community made it difficult to swallow all of it.
Still, the dark magic, his immense power, fame, good looks, charisma and frankly, the lack of anyone else to idolize, made Severus admire Voldemort, flaws or not. If I had that power, no one would bully me.
A notice about Lucius and Narcissa getting engaged had caught his attention when skimming the bottom of the centerfold. They had both been his in-house alleys for as long as they had studied at Hogwarts. Merlin knows scrawny half-bloods in secondhand robes make easy targets in Slytherin. They had defended him from his bullies, at least once Lucius had realized that Severus was a prodigy.
Back then Severus had been quite oblivious to how very few wizards were able to create new spells. Lucius had spotted him practicing by the edge of the forbidden forest and recognized his talent at 11 years old. In the beginning, their interactions had definitely been one-sided, gaining Lucius and Narcissa, but after some time, an unlikely alliance had developed.
Severus had accepted their mentorship and appreciated their guidance in wizarding and pureblood manners. It was Narcissa who patiently had taught him Standard English and made him abandon his thick working-class accent.
Severus had to admit it; he was somewhat fond of Lucius and Narcissa. They both oozed pedigree and old money, everything that he lacked. Lucius was probably the best-connected wizard of their generation. And they had chosen him as their protégé, they believed in his potential!
There was very little that Severus wouldn’t do to stay in their good graces. Lucius endorsement was probably his only ticket to land a respectable job once he graduated.
He would have to borrow a school owl and congratulate them, once he arrived.
Thinking about their engagement, Severus’s face was lit by one of his rare smiles, when the door to the compartment flew open. Lily, her friend Mary McDonald, and the bloody Marauders entered the compartment. Lily’s eyes darted between his face and the paper on his knees and her jaw dropped.
“Oh my magic, Sev, how can you be smiling at the news about Voldemort? Do you think killing mudbloods is funny?” Lily blurted, voice dripping with venom at the m-word.
Fuck, this is bad. Of course she had to find him with that news spread open, and of course he was smiling. Fuck again. Severus had been struggling to come up with an explanation, but obviously not fast enough.
“Well, Lily, watch and behold as Snivellus shows his true colors,” James smirked.
“Why don’t you girls sit down and let us boys eliminate the vermin from here?” Sirius added, while he dug out his wand from his pocket.
Peter, the irritating idiot had snickered and Remus the pathetic prefect, had looked the other way. The sidekick marauders were useless; that, hadn’t changed over the summer.
Severus had been vaguely aware of the stunner flying at him, but his limbs were heavier than lead and his vision impaired by Lily’s devastated look etched onto his retinas. The last thing he had heard, was her whisper; “you promised not to turn dark.”
She hadn’t defended him.
Yes, he had promised not to turn dark. A gazillion times. In his own opinion he wasn’t a dark wizard. Thank you very much for asking... He certainly thrived in the gray zone, but who was he to be blamed for his magic working better with darker spells? Lily didn’t exactly hide being a charms genius.
Well, this time the whole world had turned dark. He had woken up lying in the luggage compartment, chest stinging where the spell had taken, both thirsty and hungry. Without anyone to rennervate him, he must have been out for most of the journey.
No, no, no, no, no. The realization of what just had happened hit him much harder than the stunner. Merlin’s beard and his cousin’s toenails, there went his chances of ever reconciling with Lily. And to rub it in, an easy victory for the marauders before the term even had started.
He went to the toilet to change into robes, only to realize his hair was red and he had freckles on his nose. True colors indeed. Was that what James had meant?
Have they done anything else to me while I was unconscious? The thought sent shivers of panic down his spine. It didn’t feel like it. And no one else would have recognized him if they had found him out cold on the floor.
Unfortunately, or in this case maybe fortunately, Severus had been hexed often enough to know most of the curses and counter curses by heart. With a few waves of his wand he looked like himself again.
Angry at himself, at Lily, at the marauders and everybody and no one in particular he whispered to the black eyes meeting his own gaze in the mirror, “I will show you how dark true colors can get...”
His eyes steadily held his own gaze with a promise of revenge. He didn’t want to be a punching bag anymore. He wasn’t going to accept being pushed around yet another year. He knew his magical core was strong, and his mind was sharp. Why didn’t anybody else see his potential? Lily was the only one who had ever put his best interest first.
But if Lily didn’t care to climb down from her high horses to grace him with her company, he saw no reason why he should care about her moral standards anymore. This year he could play by a different rulebook.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The first day of his sixth year had not even met his lowest expectations, Severus thought bitterly, still lying in his bed. However, today was a new day, and a childhood filled with hardships builds resilience, whether you want it or not. Severus couldn’t be described as an optimist, even by the most optimistic person. But he wasn’t the type to cry over spilled milk, at least not when he had been moping over said milk the whole summer.
He needed a plan. A plan for revenge and for rising above his tormentors. What I really need is to reevaluate my whole bloody future. But before that, he had basic needs that needed to be tended to. Such as toiletries, clothes and potion ingredients.
Unfortunately, he was broke. Previous summers Severus had been able to earn a few pounds by helping the Evans family with yardwork and other household labor. The small income they had provided him with had been very welcome as his own parents were hopelessly inadequate to provide for themselves, let alone for a growing teenage boy.
Lily’s parents hadn’t been thrilled when they first met him. He was the sort of child that middle class parents told their kids to make a wide berth around to avoid fleas. Such were all the kids from the wrong side of the river. But after acquainting Severus, Lily’s wild magic was both explained and tamed.
This summer, shame, pride and fear of rejection had him turn around whenever he tried to approach the Evans’s home. He hadn’t made it to their porch, just as Lily hadn’t made it to their spot by the river. Not that he really expected her to show up, not after her rejecting him outside the Gryffindor common room.
First things first. What he really needed was a shower. After all, teenage hormones stink, quite literally. He took in the stale air of the dormitory; moist dungeon mixed with sweat of adolescent boys. It wasn’t a pleasant odor, but to him it was what home smelled like.
It was still early, everyone else was asleep. Good, I can sneak to the showers before they see me.
Sneaking to the showers was a well-established beginning of the term tradition. Severus never liked getting undressed in front of his dormmates, but most of the year he could endure it. Currently, his skin had an unhealthy grayish shade, his ribs were protruding, and he had some bruises as well as fresh belt marks, which he didn’t feel like showing off. The summers always took a toll on his health.
A few moments later he sat down on his bed, fresh and clean. He closed the curtains to get some privacy and started plotting.
Revenge on the marauders was hard to plot, but probably easier to get. Knowing his tormentors, he could bet his wand that they would step up the game, now when the small protection Lily had given him was gone.
All he needed to do was to keep his eyes open, wand in hand, and maybe try to invent a couple of new spells and hexes that they could not yet counter. Hmm, tattoos or something else visible, but not severe enough to get him expelled. That could certainly be entertaining… maybe a stuttering spell? There were plenty of options to explore.
His cash crisis were more acute and needed direct action. Last year he and Lily had been helping Slughorn prepare ingredients for classes and brewing for the infirmary. It had given him just enough galleons to buy books and school supplies for this year. Clothes and toiletries were usually cheaper in the muggle world, but without pocket money he hadn’t been able to buy anything at all. He dug out parchment and quill to list what he needed.
- Underpants
- T-shirts
- Socks
- Collared shirts
Newsecondhand robes- Trousers
- Shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant
- Potions ingredients standard kits 1&2
- Vials and stoppers
Winter cloak and boots
This was going to be expensive for him, even if he cut corners and eliminated anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. He would have to turn to his professor and ask if he could help him also this year.
He knew that Slughorn was too old, fat and lazy to do all the work that was expected of the school’s potions master. And Severus knew for sure there was no one better than himself to help him with work, not at Hogwarts, possibly not in Britain.
There was a problem though. The old Sluggie-fart didn’t always act rationally. He had a habit of maximizing his own gain, instead of choosing the most reasonable option.
Lily was Slughorn’s beautiful favorite, a social butterfly, whom he liked to show off to all interested. Why wouldn’t he prefer to work with her, instead of an introverted, scrawny boy with a notorious appetite for dark spells?
Slytherins were cunning, and Severus soon had a plan for how to persuade his professor. If he only got a private lab, he had additional plans. He would “borrow” some school brewing equipment for moonlighting. In a boarding school full of adolescents there was a lucrative black market for potions.
Content with his prospects, Severus started off towards the great hall and breakfast. Maybe he would be able to get the potion supplies and toiletries on the first Hogsmeade weekend, possibly even the secondhand robes. At least if he prioritized their length over their condition.
His old ones were hopelessly short, and McGonagall had already reprimanded him last spring because they were not complying with the school’s regulations on robe lengths. The rest of the clothes would be possible to get by traditional muggle mail order. I just need to make sure no one dangles me upside down before getting the trousers.
His musings were interrupted as he entered the great hall.
“Snape, good morning, come and join us!”
His head snapped up in the direction of the sound. It came from the far end of the Slytherin table, where the older students, the ones running the house, sat. Beside them were his dormmates Mulciber and Avery, the latter being the one inviting him to sit with them.
Both were grinning at him while making space. Galloping griffins, what do they want? He wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with his dormmates, neutral at best. Never before had he been invited to join the end where the mob bosses, well connected and purest of pureblood sat.
“Avery, Mulciber, I hope you had an enjoyable summer?” mumbled Severus, head down, while slowly taking the offered seat. It didn’t do any good to go against the strict Slytherin pecking order.
“We did,” answered Avery.
“A very eventful summer,” drawled Mulciber, while glancing at his left forearm.
Oh? Severus had heard rumors about how Lord Voldemort branded his most trusted people. Did he accept students into his ranks? His interest was piqued.
Maybe it was just a coincidence that Mulciber glanced at his arm. But Severus did not believe in coincidences. He had always had a strong intuition, and right now he felt his magic tingle along his spine, telling him he was probably right.
Some would call it a form of divination, but as a mostly muggle raised, Severus simply thought of it as a combination of logical reasoning and a strong gut feeling. To him divination was a very diffuse and vague branch of magic. Who believes in prophecies anyway?
“So, Severus, what are you taking for your NEWT classes? A talent like you must have great plans for the future?”
The question caught him off guard.
Originally, he had his mind set out to become a potions master. But paying for the tests, the certificate and apprenticeship would be almost impossible without a sponsor. And to become indebted was not an option. Severus remembered how his father’s gambling debts had affected their family; first went the food and then the electricity.
Without Lily, and her ideals, he could take a few shortcuts towards a profession. He knew there were many questionable shops that would hire him straight away. Employers that wouldn’t ask questions in trade for perfectly brewed veritaserum, poisons and other regulated potions. He would be able to get by, even prosper, as long as he didn’t get caught. But that wasn’t something he was going to flash in the face of his housemates.
“I’m not quite sure,” he muttered. “Probably potioneering, I take most of the relevant classes.”
“Relevant?” one of the seventh years asked, frowning at him. “Just stay clear of muggle studies and I’m sure you can do whatever you want to do. There are great things happening out there, and the strong and talented will be recognized if they only understand which values to build the future on,” the seventh year snapped, still frowning at Severus.
Being referred to as strong and talented made his heart skip a beat.
“I will keep that in mind,” Severus answered, suppressing a smile.
“Good, rumors of your talent travel fast. It would be a shame if rumors of harmful political views travelled even faster.”
Avery laughed and gave him an evil wink. “That should not be a problem anymore, now that your Gryffindor girlfriend is flirting with Potter, right?”
Severus twisted in his seat just to see James smiling at Lily while juggling some oranges for her entertainment. He didn’t have to be within hearing to know she was giggling when Sirius started shooting the oranges when they were at the highest point of the orbit, splashing juice, peel and fruit pulp over the table.
Severus blushed, avoiding Avery’s eyes. Lily was not his girlfriend. She was many things; his best friend, his oldest friend and his preferred brewing partner. But she had never been his girlfriend. He had never even dared to think of that.
All he really wanted was someone who understood him and accepted him as he was. Someone who hugged him, even though he pretended he didn’t like it. Someone like Lily. But she is gone now, your own fault, if you remember?
Frankly, if he couldn’t have Lily as a friend, he would be happier on his own. Just himself, a potions lab and blessed peace and quiet from surrounding nuisances. Is to be left alone too much to ask for? It probably was, given that Avery and Mulciber just had decided where he was to sit.
He shook his head at Avery, as in saying, no, no girlfriend.
While Severus effortlessly understood potions, charms, and spells, he couldn’t grasp the rules behind courting, friendship and alliances. He had no clue how social games were played. Certainly not in a logical way.
Anyway, he doubted that Lily ever had fancied him as anything more than a friend. He was pretty sure that no one ever had any romantic interest in an impoverished half-blood, who had lost big time on the genetic lottery of handsomeness.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Severus wasn’t the only one with a worrying start to the term. Up at the head table the headmaster let his eyes scan over the great hall, while keeping his head still and slightly inclined towards his plate. A stealth mode for observation, perfected by years of practicing and an extra reflecting charm on his half-moon glasses.
The Gryffindors were as usual boisterous, loud and happily teasing each other. Nothing that requires any measures over there, shooting oranges is not against the code.
Then followed the Ravenclaw and the Hufflepuff tables, with rows of diligent and well-behaved children. Among them sat two students that had lost relatives in the attacks over the summer, and a couple of others with questionable home conditions. Definitely worrisome. Still, nothing more than their heads of houses could handle.
Finally, his eyes turned towards the cause of his gray hair, unless it already had turned into a silver mane decades ago. The Slytherin table.
What he saw didn’t please his eyes. The Snape boy. He remembered his mother, Eileen Prince, as a well-off, quiet witch, keeping mostly to herself. Well behaved, never the source of any concerns.
Her son was different, he was trouble embodied.
Dumbledore wasn’t blind, he knew all the signs of abused children when he saw them, and young Mr. Snape ticked all boxes. He knew he must come from extremely poor conditions, regardless of the Prince’s heritage.
He hadn’t bothered to find out why, that wasn’t the headmaster’s job. If he personally interfered with all neglected children of magical Britain, he wouldn’t have the time to run a school, let alone a political resistance organization. He trusted Horace to inform him if a Slytherin needed help from the funds set aside for impoverished students.
Finishing the scan of the great hall, he recalled the small first-year student, with jet black eyes being sorted six years ago. Eyes constantly searching his surroundings, flinching at sudden noises and movements. Melting into the walls. Malnourished with crooked teeth. Wand always ready in his hand.
The last part was where the current troubles started. Because he could defend himself, and not only defend, he could attack as well. He had been involved in an alarming number of skirmishes, both within his own house and with the Gryffindors. Until now, the lovely miss Evans had had a fortunate calming influence on him. What will he turn into without the Gryffindor by his side?
Dumbledore sighed. Every generation of wizards and witches has one or two outstanding individuals. Sometimes they had immense power, other times there was an oracle. He should know, he was one of those himself, after all.
There was no doubt that the Snape boy was the one of this generation. If the rumors were true, he was not only a grand brewer, but also an extremely rare spell creator.
And that boy just joined Mr. Avery and Mr. Mulciber at the wrong end of the Slytherin table. The end which the blood purists and Voldemort supporters crowded.
Should I interfere? The last time the headmaster had interfered with a poor boy with unexplored powers, the outcome had been all but favorable. He had created a monster. An educated, polite, but all through evil man, threatening to end the wizarding Britain as it was known today.
The similarities between the two boys were striking to Dumbledore. While Voldemort certainly was stronger and politically skilled, in contrast to the socially awkward boy currently inhabiting Hogwarts, Mr. Snape was still growing. And he had a structured mind and a technical understanding of magic which the older man lacked. If they were in earnest to combine forces, he doubted anyone could stop them.
And speaking of stopping him, Dumbledore turned his eyes down towards his porridge.
There shouldn’t have been any skilled legilimens in the room, and Dumbledore was a decent occlumens, but this was something that could not be given away, at any price.
While spooning jam onto the porridge, his thoughts returned to the previous week.
Horace had burst into his office, pale and shaking, clutching the Daily Prophet, asking him to talk in private.
“Horace, how can I help you, you look like you have seen a ghost?” Dumbledore had chuckled at his own joke.
“Albus, have you read the news?” Waving the centerfold of the paper at him, Horace had wasted no time on small talk.
“Yes, I have, rather troublesome ones today, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, dear me, my old friend, do you believe he is aiming for a political coup?” Slughorn had replied, voice still shaking.
“I would be almost certain of it,” Dumbledore had smiled and twinkled with his eyes. He believed people found it reassuring. “But it is only one man’s politics; that cannot possibly have startled you this terribly?”
“Oh Merlin, it is more than that. How can I tell you about this?” Now Horace was sweating and turning even paler. “P-p-please forgive me, I didn’t und-d-derstand what I was doing. I have doomed us all. He is not a m-m-m-an anymore.”
That had been worrisome, what could have his normally calm and jovial head of house turned into a stuttering mess?
“Sit down Horace, I think you need to start from the beginning.” Dumbledore had invited the other man to the pair of armchairs.
“I presume we skip tea, and go straight for something stronger?”
And then, he had slowly been able to draw the story out of a reluctant Horace. He always causes such drama. But with the help of an extremely expensive bottle of 18-year-old single malt and shameless flattering of Horace’s brave confession, Dumbledore had been able to grasp the totality of the situation.
About the young Tom Riddle asking about Horcruxes. About all the information he had gained. And about the absurd amount of them he would like to make. Horace is right, even if he only has made one, he wouldn’t be a man anymore.
Returning his eyes to the cooling porridge, now with a mountain of jam towering in the center, no harm in indulging one’s sweet tooth, Dumbledore sighed again. Yes, he would certainly have to keep an eye on the Snape boy. He couldn’t allow him to join Voldemort. But there was still a chance he could turn towards a lighter path, even without interference. And time was still on his side; there were two years before he graduated.
The question was, could he afford to wait that long?