Title: A Part of Me 1-4 (Professor!Snape/Student!Snape, NC-17)
Title:A Part of Me
Author: PhantomTF
Pairing/Characters: Professor!Snape/Student!Snape
Rating: Chapters range from G to NC-17. I've flagged the entire story with Explicit Adult Content to be on the safe side.
Category: Angst
Word Count: 70,200, or 153 pages in Microsoft Word
Warnings: character death, brief torture, dark themes, sex between two men who are essentially the same person, teacher/student relationship
Disclaimer: The boys are not mine, only this crazy tale is
Summary: A Potions accident splits Snape into two people - a dour professor and an angsty rebellious teen. Both must now coexist at Hogwarts and in a time of war.
Author's note: I’m certain some variation of this concept has been done before, but hopefully at least the story itself will be original enough to please.
This story is AU, replacing the events in Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. I will make reference to items, events and concepts that came up in Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows - they will be altered to fit into this new storyline, but there are still possible spoilers.
Although the majority of this story is PG-13 at best, there are definitely some NC-17 scenes as well.
“Snape” is usually used to refer to Professor Snape, and “Severus” is usually used to refer to student Snape.
Chapter One
He glided up the aisle with scarcely a noise, his robes making a soft whispering sound as they brushed by the desks. “Two minutes remaining,” he murmured in a threatening baritone. Most of the students had not completed their potions, and he allowed himself a private smirk as he watched them scramble to finish on time.
His smirk turned to a sneer of disgust as he caught sight of three heads (one dark-haired, one flame-colored, and one a tousled mess of chestnut curls) bent over a cauldron. He had no real objections to having Granger in his Advanced Potions class, though she was an insufferable know-it-all. However, Potter and Weasley had only received E’s in their potion OWLS (privately, he was gobsmacked that they had managed to do even that much) and had no right to even sit in the presence of Outstanding students. But of course the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Be-A-Brat must be coddled and carried along the way to whatever glorious fate awaited after the impending defeat of the Dark Lord, Merlin willing.
It had taken a good deal of wheedling and arm-twisting, with a smidgen of old-fashioned blackmail for good measure, for Snape to relent on his policy of O students only. He was positive that Dumbledore had been a Slytherin in a previous lifetime. He was a bit awed, in spite of his outrage.
“Time’s up. Please bring your cauldrons to the front of the room for inspection.”
Potter stood up, cauldron full of simmering potion in hand. Today, with an inward shudder of apprehension, he had allowed the students to select which NEWT-level potion they had wanted to brew. The Gryffindor trio-of-doom had brewed a Separating Solution, which was useful for separating potions into their base compounds. Draco and his cronies had created a Youth Serum.
Severus was heading to his desk when a scuffle caught his attention. As usual, the Potter brat was at odds with Malfoy. Malfoy gestured with his wand, causing Potter to trip and spill the contents of his cauldron. The Slytherins snickered. In retaliation, Weasley fired off some kind of hex, causing Malfoy’s cauldron to send a geyser of potion rushing out. Both concoctions hit the unfortunate Potions professor within seconds.
Snape froze and remained stock-still. A most unpleasant sensation was nagging at him - it began as fingers tickling his back but quickly mutated. He tried to lunge for the emergency shower, but as he turned he felt a tugging sensation, much like a rubber band that had reached its stretching limit. He bit his lip against a cry of pain and tasted blood. Just as the pain reached its crescendo, it abruptly cut off.
The Potions master stood shuddering and gasping, almost in shock. The infernal children stared at him in mute horror. It gave him some grim satisfaction. Yes, they lived in fear for what he would do next… would he scream and fly into a rage, or would his voice become deathly quiet as he flayed the skin from their bones with his barbed tongue? Then he realized that their gazes were focused somewhere behind him. With a sense of trepidation, he turned.
There was a student behind him. A Slytherin, judging from his robes. But this was no student that he recognized. The boy raised his head, and Snape felt a jolt.
Snape blinked his black eyes. The boy blinked equally black eyes in response. “Who are you?” the professor said slowly, already suspecting the response.
The student frowned. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
There were a few soft gasps. The boy’s voice was higher, but there was no doubting that the two voices were remarkably similar.
Snape studied the boy. He was tall and skinny, bordering on bony. He had a waxy, sallow complexion. His hair was black and hung almost to his rounded shoulders. The strands were lank and greasy-looking. The man groaned in despair. “Severus?”
“Yes,” the boy replied warily.
Hermione sensibly decided to act. “I’ll go fetch Madame Pomfrey.”
Snape still appeared in shock. “Better inform Dumbledore as well.”
Chapter Two
Madame Pomfrey arrived in short order, dismissing classes and scolding the elder Snape for not washing the potion off himself straightaway. She dragged the two Snapes by the collars into the showerhead that stood in the far corner of the classroom (any Potions master worth their salt knew not to cast spells on unknown substances). They both shivered miserably as the icy cold water cascaded down until their clothes were plastered to their skin. Once the mediwitch was satisfied, she spelled them dry and ushered them to Dumbledore’s office.
Hermione was already speaking with the Headmaster when the Snapes entered. “Hello, Severus,” the old man said with an especially bright twinkle in his eye. Both tried to greet him at once, then stopped and glared at each other.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” the teen finally grumbled.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Professor Snape growled. “There’s been a Potions accident.”
“But how can that be? One minute I’m working with Lily on Felix Felicis, and the next minute I’m in the same classroom but with a different professor and different students!”
“If what Miss Granger tells me is true, then we indeed have a situation on our hands. Please, Professor, Mister Snape, have a seat.” He offered a tray of sugar quills, which both took while trying not to look too interested. Dumbledore suppressed a smile. He knew their secret vice. “Mister Snape, indulge me, please. What is today’s date?”
“March twenty-third, nineteen seventy-five,” the Slytherin replied.
Professor Snape rubbed his temples as if trying to soothe away an impending headache. “It is indeed March twenty-third, but the year is nineteen ninety-seven. Clearly the accident has manifested a younger version of myself.”
“Professor Snape,” Hermione spoke up. He was surprised she wasn’t waving her hand around in the air. “I believe I can help figure out what happened.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. The impending headache was getting worse. “*Thank* you, Miss Granger,” he said sarcastically, “but as I am the resident Potions master, I should be able to do just fine on my own.”
Dumbledore tsked, smiling merrily. Both Snapes wanted to throttle him. “Come now, Severus, let’s hear what she’s got to say.”
“Ahem. Well, yes.” Hermione looked flustered, and the elder Snape felt a pang of savage joy. “Harry, Ron and I were working on a Separating Solution. Well, the color wasn’t quite right, and…”
“Get to the point,” he hissed between clenched teeth. Young Severus bent his head and looked at the floor, his hair obscuring his face, but the professor was certain he was smirking.
“Ah, yes, anyway, Malfoy tripped Harry, Ron hexed Malfoy, and Malfoy spilled his Youth Serum. Professor Snape was dosed first by the Separating Solution, then by the Youth Serum. It’s my theory that our potion caused Professor Snape to begin to separate, and Malfoy’s potion caused his counterpart to become a younger version.”
“And what are your thoughts, Severus?” Albus asked politely.
Severus made his features as blank as possible. “While Miss Granger’s theory is *interesting*, to be certain, it does not seem to be entirely correct. A Separating Solution is designed to separate potions into their base components. The worst it would do to a human is cause a skin rash and blistering.”
Hermione shifted nervously. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I think Ron chopped the shrivelfigs too coarsely. Plus he didn’t wipe his knife after dicing the flobberworms. And who knows what could have happened once our contaminated potion was mixed with Malfoy’s?” Snape grunted noncommittally, and Hermione knew she’d won.
Dumbledore decided to rub salt in the wound. “I have granted Hermione five House points for quick thinking in a crisis, and for helping to analyze the problem.”
“It would have been more suitable to take points from Gryffindor for Potter’s shocking lack of self-control in instigating the attack on Mister Malfoy.”
“Then you will have to deduct points from Slytherin as well for Mister Malfoy’s involvement. But since the incident occurred to your personage in your classroom, I will leave the discipline up to you. As for you, Miss Granger, it’s nearly time for dinner and I’m sure your friends will be expecting you.”
Hermione nodded. “If I think of anything else that was different about the potion, I’ll be sure to let you know.” She headed for the passageway with the stone gargoyle, her tangled frizz of curls floating behind her.
Silence reigned. “So I’m really a professor?” Severus finally asked.
Professor Snape sighed. “Yes, I am Potions master and Professor. I am also Head of Slytherin House.” His younger self looked sufficiently awed.
Dumbledore chuckled. “I’m sure you two have plenty to discuss, and there will be ample time to get acquainted shortly. However, we must first decide Mister Snape’s fate. Since we do not know how long the effects of the potion will last, let us assume that he will be with us for awhile.”
Professor Snape spoke up. “My quarters are large, but they are currently furnished for one occupant.” He did not look overjoyed with the concept of sharing his living space with an adolescent. “I would need to-”
Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. “You do not have to sacrifice the sanctity of your quarters, Severus. It would be best to proceed as if the effects are permanent, and that Mister Snape is a separate entity.” Professor Snape looked somewhat ill at the thought of a separate part of him running loose. In turn, young Severus looked disturbed that he may only be a fragment of his older self. “Mister Snape will be treated as any other student in this school. He will be provided with a space in the Slytherin dormitory and will attend classes with the other students.”
“But if I’ve already become a Master--!” Severus protested.
“Professor Snape has the right to that honorary. Although you are certainly one of the most gifted students I have ever seen, you have not yet completed your studies. If there is no way to re-integrate the both of you, then you will need to seek a separate life and gainful employment for yourself. It is best to stay on the path to a successful career that you have already begun at Hogwarts.”
Severus glared at the Headmaster from under his curtain of greasy hair. If the elder Snape’s memory served correctly, the Shrieking Shack incident had occurred not too long ago, and the boy had nothing but mistrust for Dumbledore. “The Headmaster is right, Mister Snape,” he said gruffly, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible, which proved to be rather unsuccessful. “It is best to keep things as close to normal as possible, at least until we have more information about the accident and its repercussions.”
His younger self heaved a sigh. “Fine. I guess it can’t be much worse than my usual routine.”
Dumbledore looked satisfied. “I imagine that the two of you will be eager to research this most fascinating Potions reaction. May I make a suggestion, however?” Professor Snape cocked an eyebrow. “Do send a sample to Horace. I’m sure he’ll be of immense help. Besides, I believe his retreat from the public eye is beginning to wear on him.”
“Professor Slughorn? What’s become of him?” It had just dawned on the teen that his Potions professor no longer operated in that capacity.
Snape shot him a sharp look. “He retired quite a number of years ago. However, with recent activities of a certain dark wizard - I will not speak the name but you have likely heard of him - he has gone into hiding.”
Albus clapped his hands together. “Well, then. Now that the matter of Mister Snape’s accommodations has been settled, it is time to address my rumbling stomach. I have heard a rumor that the house elves have prepared treacle tart for dessert.”
The two stood and headed for the door. Just as they were leaving, Dumbledore called after them, “Do not neglect your meals in the interest of research! I will have Mippy drop by with a tray.” He chuckled as the door slid closed on a muffled curse.
“Interfering, infuriating, batty old man!” Snape-the-elder grumbled as they both made their way from Dumbledore’s office to the dungeons. “You might as well join me for dinner, since the house elf will bring far more than I could ever eat, as usual. I am certain you will not mind delaying the curious gawking of the insipid student body.”
“Why are you a schoolteacher? Why are you working for Dumbledore? Why-”
“Great Merlin, why do you ask so many questions?” The boy fell silent and glared at him sullenly. The professor heaved an almost inaudible sigh. “You should know that I am not a kind or friendly person. I am not fond of students. I am not here to mollycoddle you or wipe your nose.”
The student snorted. “You must have really lost touch with your youth; otherwise you’d realize I feel the same way. I feel disgust for most of my classmates, since they are mediocre students and pay more attention to Quidditch than their lessons. I’ve been pretty much fending for myself even before I reached Hogwarts, so I don’t need any babying. All I ask is the chance to prove myself.”
Snape nodded grudgingly. “Perhaps we may get along after all.” He lead the way to his office. His younger self stopped short and gaped at the collection of *things* pickled in jars along the shelves. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “This place is awesome! I can’t believe you’ve actually got grindylow fingers and runespoor heads.” He beamed, tracing the shelves with his fingertips, careful not to touch the jars. It was then that full realization hit Professor Snape - this was not the run-of-the-mill snot-nosed brat. This was *him* - the awkward teenager who had always had his head in a book, whose joy in life was inventing new spells and potions. Most students loathed his office, to his secret delight, but his younger self could actually appreciate its contents. He couldn’t say he was fond of having a separate self, but it was certainly better, say, then a younger version of Lupin or James Potter.
With a flourish of the elder Snape’s wand, graded parchments sorted themselves to piles and floated into a drawer. Stray vials and potions samples rearranged themselves on a nearby rack. “Sit,” he commanded. Young Snape seated himself, wincing at the uncomfortable seat. A quick Cushioning charm brought him great relief.
“Now,” Professor Snape began, “the first order of business is to discuss-”
“Mippy is bringing food!” A house elf arrived bearing a tray. No sooner had she placed it on the table than she disappeared. She was used to Professor Snape and knew he found house-elf chatter irritating. Albus had sent chicken pot pie, their favorite - guaranteed this was not what was being served at the Great Hall. Just another manipulation from the old man. Both Snapes gladly eschewed further conversation in favor of digging in.
Once every crumb had disappeared and they were stuffed full, the tray disappeared. Snape was surprised how such a little thing like a full meal could slightly improve his mood. “Mister Snape, we need to discuss the matter of your classes. NEWTS will be coming up next year, so I will help you choose the best classes that will further your career.”
“Hopefully I can just pick up more or less where I left off. I’ve been taking Advanced Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Ancient Runes.”
“I’d recommend adding Transfiguration to your schedule.”
“Transfiguration! Why? It has absolutely no bearing on my Mastership.”
Professor Snape scowled. “Because I have never been good at Transfiguration, and I hate having a weakness in skill.”
“Perhaps McGonagall -- *Professor* McGonagall,” he amended quickly, seeing his older self’s displeasure, “will agree to tutor me once a month. But since I have difficulty with Transfiguration, I’ll probably have trouble keeping up in a NEWT-level class. I can’t imagine how I managed to get an E for that subject in my OWLs in the first place.”
“Very well, I see your point. Give me a list of your current subjects and I will make arrangements to enroll you, starting with the next available class.”
“Whatever am I going to do for books? I’ve got nothing but my wand. Come to think of it, if I’m just a part of you, why am I dressed and carrying another copy of your wand? Shouldn’t I have appeared naked?” They both shuddered.
“Since your manifestation was caused by an accident, there’s still a lot we don’t know about the event. I can only guess that you were created using my memories of my youth, including the clothes and wand I recall having.”
“Couldn’t you have thought of some books too?”
“Believe me, if I could make things appear by thinking of them, I’d have come up with something better. No offense,” he said hastily.
“None taken.”
Circe, he liked this boy. He was matter-of-fact and had a tough outer skin. What a refreshing change from the lacksidasical students he taught, who did a half-arsed job and then had the nerve to cry that life wasn’t fair when he deducted house points. “Wait here,” he instructed. “I’ll see what I can dig up for you.” The boy shrugged, turning his attention back to the fascinating contents of the office.
The professor finally returned with a miniature trunk in the palm of his hand. “I found my old trunk - no idea what’s really in it, since I never finished emptying it out after graduation. I managed to dig up some of my old uniforms from Seventh Year. You may need to do a bit of a shrinking charm - shouldn’t hurt, since there’s been some extensive lengthening charms cast on them. The house elves were able to scrounge up some extra pairs that have been abandoned as well. Most of the books in here are mine. If you damage Mum’s old Advanced Potions book with my notes in it, I will skin you alive.”
“Is there anything else I’m going to need?”
“I was not able to get you a Herbology book - they changed the edition since I graduated. I will mention the issue to Madame Sprout, and hopefully she can locate an extra copy. The supplies in here will only last for a few days, but I will work on getting you more items in the meantime.”
“Um…” the teen looked awkward, ducking his head to stare at the floor. “You wouldn’t have a decent pair of smalls, would you?” His cheeks flamed scarlet, and both remembered the painful humiliation regarding their shabby underpants by James Potter.
“I’ve included a few pairs of my own. You’ll need to shrink them a bit, but they should be comfortable. They are black silk - a gift from Lucius, as a matter of fact.”
“Luc’s good with things like that.” Although Lucius had already graduated when the “pants” incident occurred, word had reached him and he had very kindly sent a large supply of expensive underwear to his protégé. The Snape family had little money, and the few pence that his mother could wrest from his father and turn to knuts were usually spent on Potions ingredients or books. Clothes and food took second place. Young Severus had had a thriving mini black market in Potions trade, but it wasn’t enough to cover all his basic needs.
They talked a bit more, about how the staffing had changed since his school days and differences in the curriculum. Snape was able to draft a rough schedule for his young charge, so Severus could attend classes the very next day. They were startled by a peal from the clock on the wall, whose hands were rapidly approaching ‘curfew’.
“Come,” Professor Snape said briskly. “Time to get you settled.” He studied his younger self thoughtfully as they headed for the Slytherin dorm. “Mister Snape. I will give you some advice. It will no doubt sound like criticism, but please do not wilt into a paroxysm of angst - I know how teenagers get. You must stop slouching and keep your head held high. I know how tempting it is to try to blend in with the walls, but it also makes you look like a target. As long as you look like you have confidence and determination, others will assume that you do.” He gently adjusted the Slytherin’s posture until the boy was standing straight and tall. “Very good. Now observe me.” The professor strode determinedly down the hall. Several second-year Slytherins dashed down the hall, squeaked when they saw his menacing stalking, and darted through the portrait hole.
Severus admired his older self’s presence. The billowing robes were part of the persona, but Professor Snape was right - it was all in how he carried himself. Perhaps the Gryffindors would not pick on him so much if he didn’t look so meek. The professor had already helped him more than anyone else in this cursed school ever had.
“Shall we?” Snape gestured to the portrait. “The password is Salazar.”
Severus nodded at his Head of House and preceded him into the Common Room. The few students that were still gathered around the fire jumped up and stood at attention. Snape nodded to them curtly as he ushered his charge up the stairs to the Sixth-Year boys’ room. An extra bed had already appeared, complete with sheets and covers, courtesy of the house elves.
The Sixth-Year boys reacted much as the students in the Common Room did - they dropped whatever they were doing and lined up. Severus was very impressed - they had certainly never done this for Slughorn. Professor Snape must inspire a healthy dose of fear and respect.
“I’m certain you have all heard of the potions accident that occurred in my classroom earlier today.” He directed an evil glare toward a blond-headed boy, who cringed slightly. “This is Mister Severus Snape.” The boys shot curious glances at each other, barely able to restrain their curiosity. “He will be staying for an indeterminable length of time. Normally I would tell you to welcome him, but I’m certain he would greatly prefer being left alone. If you treat him poorly, he will make you regret it.”
He pulled the miniature trunk from his pocket, placed it on the floor, and enlarged it to its usual size. “If you are in need of additional supplies, do let me know. The others will advise you to my office hours. Do not disturb me after curfew unless you are maimed or dying. I will see you tomorrow in Advanced Potions.” He turned on his heel and marched away. Severus watched the teaching robes trailing behind his Head of House. The man certainly had style.
He had the creepy sensation he was being watched. Sure enough, when he turned around he felt every eye in the room upon him. Ignoring them all, he knelt and dug through his trunk. He shoved everything aside, getting down to the bottom, until he finally found what he sought. His nose wrinkled - twenty-year-old cigarettes would be beyond nasty, but he was desperate. After the crazy events of the past few hours, he needed something to calm his nerves. He put one in his mouth and tapped the end with his wand, ignoring the shocked gasps of his dorm-mates. He took a deep breath, grimacing. A jet of water shot from the ceiling, extinguishing the fag dangling from his lips. A steady stream of swear words issued from the young Slytherin’s mouth. The others were impressed - some weren’t even in English.
“Sorry, mate,” a stringy-looking boy said. “Professor Snape won’t let us smoke in the dorms. He said if he ever caught us with a fag, he’d make us eat it while it was still lit.”
A huge, hulking boy looked shocked. “I can’t believe you *smoke*. Does it taste good?”
Severus snorted. “Tastes like crap. He’s right to keep you from starting. I’ve tried to quit before but nearly went mad from nicotine withdrawal. But he doesn’t have to ruin my bloody fag either.” He noticed the blond boy. “You must be a Malfoy. Are you related to Lucius?”
The boy preened. “I’m Draco. Lucius is my father.”
“He procreated. Heaven help us all.” Draco’s smirk faded. “You’re just as vain as he was, too. At least you have the good sense to keep your hair short. Always told old Luc he looked like a girl.” The others tittered, while Draco looked peeved. “Aw, come off it. Lucius always laughs when I tell him that. If he doesn’t take offense, I don’t see why you should.”
Apparently accepting Snape’s sort-of apology, Draco continued on as if nothing had happened. “This is Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini.” They stared at him. He stared back.
Deciding that the staring match was boring, Severus sat upon his bed and buried his nose in a thick tome he had withdrawn from his trunk. It seemed to be a very advanced compendium on Defense - topics that probably weren’t even taught at the NEWT level.
Seeing that Snape was not going to be more forthcoming, the others eventually lost interest. After completing their various school assignments, they began to prepare for bed. Snape finally closed the book and fished his nightclothes from the trunk. They were threadbare and washed-out looking. “Did Professor Snape have to give you remnants from the lost-and-found?” the stringy boy - Nott - asked.
“Yeah,” he said shortly, not looking up from the nightshirt. It was technically true, though this particular item of clothing actually had been his.
“Oh, that sucks,” Zabini said.
Snape also withdrew the adult-size underwear; then disappeared behind the curtains of his bed to change. Apparently he was the modest sort. He neatly folded his clothes and put them aside for the house elves to launder.
Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard a voice whisper softly, “Psst. He wears boxers. You owe me five galleons.”
Chapter Three
The next day, the Slytherin sixth-year boys heard their new roommate awaken with a muffled curse. A quietly muttered cleansing charm soon followed. They grinned surreptitiously at each other. Apparently the newcomer suffered from the same youthful hormones as the rest of them.
Snape changed into a bathrobe under cover of his bedside curtains, then slunk off to the showers. He emerged a few minutes later, clean but with lank and limp hair. Apparently even shampoo couldn’t do much to save it.
Once dressed, he then gathered his rucksack and headed out the door. When Draco and his cronies reached the Great Hall, Snape was nowhere in sight. A few minutes later, he came through the door, clutching an equally thick book than the one from last night. This one bore a small sticker indicating it was a library book.
“Snape! Come sit here!”
The teen looked at Draco with a hint of surprise; then trudged over, dragging his heavy bag. He helped himself to breakfast and began shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth with one hand while holding the massive book open with the other. The book provided a convenient shield from the curious stares and whispers of the other students.
“What classes are you in?”
Snape apparently accepted that Draco wasn’t going to leave him alone. He pulled out his list of classes and handed it over without interrupting his meal.
“We’re in Potions and Defense together. I’ll save you a seat.”
“Okay.”
The large clock boomed out the hour. “Crap, gotta go!” Draco yelled, grabbing his bag. Crabbe and Goyle shuffled after him. Snape grabbed his book and headed in the opposite direction.
They did not meet up again until Potions. Draco patted the seat next to him as Severus walked in. Zabini looked put out. Apparently Snape had usurped his seat. The Slytherin sat down and pulled out his Advanced Potions book, flipped to a page, and promptly began making notes in the margins.
Draco craned his neck. “What are you doing?”
Severus did not look up. “Making improvements.” He glanced pointedly at the large desk at the front of the room. “Where’s the professor?”
Blaise snickered. “He likes to make an entrance.”
Sure enough, the exact second that classes were to begin, the door banged open and Professor Snape strode in. “Today we will be making the Ptolemus Serum. Do observe closely. If the ingredients are not properly prepared - in the proper manner, proper quantities, and proper order - the potion will explode. Needless to say, this will result in a failing grade for today’s exercise. Rather than working in teams, you will each be brewing separate potions.” He glanced scornfully at his small class. “I require an assistant for this lesson. Mister Snape, come up here. Bring your knife.”
The professor lectured on the properties and purpose of the potion. He then gestured to the cabinet in the corner. “Gather your ingredients and take them back to your seats.” Once that was finished, Snape gestured to his younger self. “The wheatgrass roots must be finely chopped. Take care to not tear them. Mister Snape, please demonstrate.” With a flash of his knife, the young Slytherin quickly and efficiently chopped the roots. “The boiled doxy eggs must be shelled. Do not puncture the inner skin of the egg, or its contents will prematurely leach into the potion and cause it to explode.” Mister Snape picked up an egg, which was the size of a pea. He lightly tapped the egg with the flat side of his blade until fine cracks appeared. He pulled the shell fragments away from the egg with amazing speed, until he was left with a perfectly bare sphere. “In this particular potion, timing is crucial, so I advise preparing your ingredients ahead of time. You may begin now.”
Severus returned to his seat and began industriously preparing the potion. He finished far sooner than anyone else. Professor Snape nodded approvingly. “Have you added an agent to speed the reaction?”
“I used a few grains of anise seed.”
“Very good. I will award extra credit. Since you completed your assignment early, you may start on an independent project of your own.”
Severus looked like he’d won the lottery. He fairly floated to the Potions cabinet. Meanwhile, Hermione was nearly done - her potion was perfect, but she looked mutinous. Apparently departing from the book’s instructions went against the grain.
A loud explosion sounded. Ron slumped in his seat, morosely staring at the blackened mess. Snape directed a sneer in his direction. Hermione looked aggravated but helped him clean up the mess anyway. Meanwhile, she almost forgot to remove her own potion from the fire, causing it to congeal slightly. Harry’s potion was entirely the wrong color. Draco and Blaise did fairly well, but nothing spectacular.
“You could’ve shared the secret of the anise seeds with us!” Blaise grumbled as class was dismissed.
“Don’t mind him,” Draco said soothingly. Severus got the feeling that Draco was up to something, no doubt trying to kiss up. “Could you help me with my cutting technique sometime?”
“I suppose.”
“How’d you get so good at it, anyway?”
Snape’s face became much more animated. “Oh, I’ve been handling a knife ever since I learned to walk. Mum was always very good at Potions. You’d be surprised at how the little things, like the way the blade is held, can influence a potion.”
Malfoy looked pleased at finally having found a way to get the teen to open up. The two walked together towards their Defense class, with Blaise trailing, acting as if he wasn’t listening in. They were joined in short order by Crabbe and Goyle. “Sounds like your mum taught you a lot.”
“Oh yeah. Not just Potions either. All kinds of spells, including hexes and jinxes. I’ve made up a few of my own too. I’m glad she didn’t believe in that rubbish about not having wizards do magic before they get to school.”
Draco snickered. His parents had exactly the same attitude. “What about your father? Was he good at potions too?”
Snape clenched his jaw, his expression hardening. “He’s an arse. I don’t want to talk about him.” To change the subject, he asked, “How’s your dad been? Last I remember, Abraxus was trying to get him in touch with some high-profile Ministry contacts.”
It was Draco’s turn to look uncomfortable. He pulled Snape into an alcove. “Dad’s in Azkaban,” he whispered.
Severus looked shocked. “For what? Using too much conditioner?”
Goyle giggled. “What are you laughing for, stupid?” Draco sneered. “Your dad’s in jail too.” He lowered his voice. “Our dads were caught supporting the Dark Lord. It’s all stupid Potter’s fault, of course. But just you wait. Our lord does not forget loyalty. He’ll break them out sooner or later.”
Snape frowned. “But if your fathers are in jail, wouldn’t that mean they failed? If this lord rewards loyalty, surely he will also punish failure.”
Malfoy suddenly didn’t look so cocky. “Come on, let’s just get to class.”
Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught by a nondescript man by the name of Kirby. Severus was very disappointed. After having just been spoiled by an excellent Potions teacher (in his humble opinion), he had hoped to enjoy his other favorite subject. The man made defensive spells sound as exciting as watching paint dry.
He was already familiar with the Defense text, so he used the opportunity to sneak glances at Potter. Apparently this was not the same Potter that he knew, but it might as well have been. The face, the glasses, the walk, the smartarse attitude…. It was James all over again.
Potter must have sensed something, for he turned around to stare at Snape. The Slytherin was pierced by blazing green eyes. Lily’s eyes. It didn’t take a Master to figure out whose child that was. Damn it all to hell. James had spawned… with *her*. His opinion of Lily’s intelligence was totally shot. He couldn’t deny how much it stung. Potter narrowed his eyes, and Severus slipped his hand into his pocket, reaching for the handle of his wand. Professor Kirby walked by. Potter turned to face the front of the classroom, and Snape allowed the tension to release from his frame. Draco watched the exchange with relish, elbowing Crabbe and Goyle.
On their way out the door, Potter bumped into him. He supposed it could have been an accident, but the way the Gryffindor glared at him was anything but friendly. “Watch it, Snape,” he spat.
“You’re one to talk, Potter,” he spat in return. “You bumped into me. Rather klutzy of you.”
Potter looked like he wanted to say more, but Ron dragged him away. “Come on, mate. He’s not worth it.”
“Muggle-loving prat,” Draco sneered.
Snape started down the large staircase winding its way down to the dungeons. The other Slytherins trailed behind, talking to each other and not paying him much mind. On the way down, a haughty brunette from Hufflepuff laughed to her friends, “Good lord, he’s ugly! Nose might as well be a beak.” Her laughter was cut short as she tripped, tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs. Her friends gasped and ran after her.
“Awfully clumsy. Must be catching,” Severus remarked calmly as he stepped over her battered body. The rest of the onlookers watched him in shocked silence, not daring to say a word.
The student body thought that a young Snape would be an ideal target for their grudge against the elder professor. From the sudden string of “accidents” that followed (one student had his tie singed; another found himself nearly cut in two by his belt), they learned to leave him well enough alone.
Professor McGonagall cornered him after yet another incident. She had actually witnessed it but couldn’t definitively prove that he was the cause. “Just watch your step, young man,” she warned him sternly. “Students who use jinxes to harm others will be severely punished.”
His antics had not gone unnoticed in his own house. That night, he sat in a plush armchair in the Common Room with his feet propped on an ottoman, head bent over a parchment, quill scratching furiously. A fat hand grabbed him by the shoulder and tried to pull him out of his seat. He looked up angrily to see Crabbe’s expression change from cross to horrified. “Uh, sorry,” he muttered and quickly backed away. After that, he kept his wand prominently displayed in his left hand.
He headed upstairs, where he surprised Zabini and Nott playing a card came featuring lewd playing cards. They threw him a nervous glance as he came in. “I’m not going to snitch on you, if that’s what you think,” he grumbled. “If you’re getting into trouble, that’s *his* problem, not mine.”
Malfoy stared at the book he was carrying. It was obviously a book on the Dark Arts. “Say, isn’t that from the Restricted Section?”
“Yeah.”
“They let you check that out?”
A slight smirk curled the thin lips. “No.”
“Blimey!” Goyle exclaimed. “You know how to nick books from the Restricted Section?”
Before he could answer, a Seventh-Year appeared in the doorway. “Snape. Got any idea why my potion didn’t work? I’m supposed to write a roll of parchment about it but I don’t have a clue.”
Relieved at the change of topic, he asked the upperclassman a few questions about his potion. “You threw in the boomslang skin too soon. It’s supposed to come *after* the lacewing flies.”
“Thanks!”
Draco eyed him thoughtfully. “You already done with your Potions homework?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you give me the answers? I’ll make it worth your while.”
Snape smirked. “Alright.” He pulled out a quill and a fresh roll of parchment. Malfoy grinned slyly at his comrades, who looked dumfounded. Snape wasn’t quite what they had been expecting. The Malfoy heir sauntered around the room for a few minutes, then came up behind Snape’s chair. He squawked in anger, grabbing the parchment. “Hey! These are the wrong answers!”
Severus grinned. It was almost frightening to see. “I told you I’d give you the answers. Never said they were the *right* answers. If you can tell the difference, then you’re perfectly capable of doing the assignment on your own.”
“Prat.”
“Ponce.” He stuck out his tongue, and Draco couldn’t help but laugh. Severus had a really odd sense of humor, but he could come to like it. Father hadn’t told him many details about his friend, but he had told Draco to keep an eye out for powerful and clever friends. That’s why he had tried to befriend Harry Potter, and look how *that* turned out. Father had been right about another thing, too. Snape was one in a million, and truly brilliant wizards usually didn’t Sort into Slytherin.
* * * * *
The next day, Severus found himself running to Greenhouse Seven. He slipped inside and saw to his disappointment that Madame Sprout had already begun the lesson. “Come in, come in, have a seat,” she said, bustling towards him. He grabbed the first seat available, which was right next to an awkward-looking boy who shrank away.
“Sorry, ma’am. I was trying to get a textbook. No one has the new edition.”
“Never you mind that. Mister Longbottom will be happy to share his.” His seatmate looked anything but.
Snape pulled the textbook to the middle of the table. Longbottom whimpered and bit his lip. “What is your *problem*?” he asked irritably. The boy’s tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. With a hiss of exasperation, Snape bent his head over the book.
“Sorry,” Longbottom muttered, staring at his desk.
“Not like I’m going to bite… no matter what you’ve heard.” Snape grabbed the empty pot on the table and began filling it with enriched dirt. Longbottom forced himself to move, clumsily shoveling dirt in as well. Once he got started, his whole demeanor changed. His moves became smoother and more confident. He was in his element.
“Are… are you really a part of Professor Snape?” he asked as they kneaded the earth together, preparing it for the plant shoots.
“Apparently, though I don’t feel any different. So I guess I’m just his younger self.” He saw his companion flinch. He usually didn’t like talking to other students, but this one intrigued him. “You’re afraid of him?”
“Oh yes,” Longbottom said ruefully. “I’m really bad at Potions. I’d always blow something up or make some sort of mess.”
“No wonder you’re afraid of Professor Snape. I bet you drove him spare!”
Longbottom chuckled, finally seeing the humor. “I probably did!”
Snape shook his head, watching Longbottom don dragonhide gloves, gently handling the Flaming Snapdragon seedling and placing it into its new pot. “You seem to be much better at Herbology.”
“Yes.” A flush crept up his neck. “I hope you don’t think I’m bragging, but Madame Sprout says she wouldn’t be surprised if I took over her job.”
“Slughorn said the same thing to me, and I guess it happened.”
“Who’s Slughorn?”
“He was Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House when I was a student.”
“To be honest, it’s really weird seeing and talking to a younger version of Professor Snape. He’s so creepy it seems impossible to me that he was ever young.”
Snape smirked. “Like I just emerged from a cauldron one day?”
“Yeah.” Longbottom gave him a sidelong glance, apparently checking to see if he had taken offense.
“Personally, I don’t see how you can be good at Herbology and bad at Potions. They practically go hand-in-hand.” Severus put on his own well-worn gloves and potted another Snapdragon, ignoring its attempts to incinerate his hands.
“How so?”
“Well, I guess it’s possible to be good at Herbology and bad at Potions, but not vice-versa. Magical plants are often key ingredients in potions, and it’s important to know how and when to harvest them, and then how to preserve them, if need be.”
“Wow. I never thought of that before.”
They worked in silence, trying to pot the plants without getting too badly burned. “Time’s up, students!” Madame Sprout finally announced, clapping her hands together. “Next class we will explore how to feed and fertilize these plants. Be certain to read the next two chapters in the textbook!”
Snape gathered his belongings and was gone in an instant. Neville stared at his retreating back in bemusement.
* * * * *
Severus dropped by the Potions classroom after classes. “Excellent timing,” the professor remarked. “I was just analyzing a sample of the potion involved in our accident. Ironically, I am attempting to use a Separating Solution, but since it was part of the original potion, I’m getting some mixed results.” Severus eyed various test tubes - some of them contained clear samples of individual ingredients, but others held bizarre concoctions. One was a sludge-like grey.
Young Snape’s eyes lit up. He liked nothing better than a thorny Potions problem. “Can I take a look?” he asked eagerly.
“Be my guest.” Snape sat behind his desk and grabbed a sheaf of parchments and an inkpot. A bloodbath of red ink soon appeared on the hapless students’ essays.
They worked in companionable silence, the scratching of the student’s quill making notes about the potion a counterpart to the professor’s grading.
“How have your classes been going?” the professor asked.
Severus did not miss a beat as he passed the contents of one test tube from one beaker to another. “Not too bad. Draco’s a bit full of himself, but he’s all right. I’m used to that from Lucius, and since Draco’s the same age as me, I can tell him to stuff it if I need to.” His older self bent his head to conceal a smirk. “Potter doesn’t seem to be much different from his father, but at least the other loser Marauders weren’t there. Granger’s hand seems to be afflicted with a permanent Wingardium Leviosa spell.” The professor snorted. “Sat next to Longbottom in Herbology. Boy seems to be terrified of you.”
“As well he should be. I greatly doubted if either of us would survive the horrors his cauldron brewed.” For a time, the only sound in the room was of quills scratching and potions ingredients sloshing. “Are your classmates causing you any difficulties?”
“Some, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. As long as they don’t gang up like our favorite band of Gryffindor thugs, I think I’ll be all right.”
“If you run into something that you can’t handle, do let me or your fellow Slytherins know right away. I have implemented several changes since Slughorn was Head of House. Slytherins stand up for each other, no matter their personal feelings. The other houses are eager to tear us down, so we must present a united front.”
“Thanks, sir,” Severus said. He knew that Professor Snape was serious. It was nice to have a professor truly on his side - even Slughorn and Dumbledore never did anything much to stop the bullying he had experienced.
Now that he finally had found someone who recognized his talent and abilities, he was reluctant to leave his presence. “I suppose I’d better get going on my Defense homework. Can I come back soon?”
Professor Snape gave him a look that was almost kind. “For you, my door is always open.”
Chapter Four
The following week found Snape in his favorite armchair in the Slytherin common room. As usual, his nose was buried in a thick, heavy book. It was after curfew, so most of the students were already in bed. Only Sixth- and Seventh-years were still awake.
He cringed as peals of laughter rang out. Pansy was practically sitting in Draco’s lap. She made a face at him when she noticed him staring.
He scowled in return. “I simply can’t *stand* girls who giggle!”
“Don’t let him talk that way to me, Draco!” she protested, swatting his chest.
“Sorry, Pans, I can’t fault him there.” She flounced away in a huff, squeezing next to Millicent on the sofa.
Draco noticed the book that Snape was reading. “Say, is that another Dark Arts book from the Restricted Section?”
Severus grunted noncommittally, turning the page.
Nott knelt at the boy’s feet to read the title, practically sitting on top of the scuffed and worn shoes. “It’s about demons.”
“Really?” Pansy had forgotten all about the slight.
The Slytherins all gathered around Snape in a circle. Severus finally slammed the book shut. “You’re all acting like Thestrals around rotten meat. What do you want?”
Zabini gestured at the book. “Do you know how to raise a demon?”
Snape looked wary. “Yeah. Why?”
“Do it. I want to see,” Draco demanded imperiously.
“No. I tried once before, and it went badly wrong. Part of the wall over there had to be repainted.” He gestured, but no one else could see anything wrong with it. If it had been repaired, the job had been a good one.
“So just what can go wrong with demon-raising? It’s not as if they teach that in Defense.”
Snape heaved a put-upon sigh, setting aside his book and assuming his lecturing pose. “Raising the demon itself is actually easy. That’s the scary part. Any fool can accidentally summon one. The purpose of summoning a demon is to trap it until you can force it to do your will. However, if the demon is too strong or the wrong one is summoned, it can escape from the netherworld and start killing. It’s rather difficult to return a demon to the nether realms once it’s fully exited.”
A pretty Seventh-year girl exclaimed, “I’d love to see a demon-raising! Severus, please?”
“No way! Slughorn gave me detention for a week the last time I tried. Not to mention the fact that the demon actually ate my shoes.”
Draco thought back to his father’s lessons. When in doubt, bribe. “I’ve got a brand-new pair of dragonhide gloves that Mum sent. They’re dyed black, and it’s not really my color. I bet they’d suit you much better.”
Snape stared at the wall. It looked like he had completely spaced out, but Draco recognized a great mind at work. “Very well. I suppose I could use a new pair.” The pair erupted in cheers. Severus scowled and cast a Muffliato spell so that no curious underclassmen would hear and come snooping.
He consulted the book. “First we need to draw a protective circle. This will allow anyone outside the circle to communicate with the demon, but the demon will not be able to escape unless it overpowers the circle caster.” Several Slytherins waved their wands and hastily cleared an area of bare stone floor. Snape held his wand aloft, pointed at the floor, and very carefully traced a circle in the air. A black ring appeared on the stones.
He rummaged in his rucksack and withdrew a bit of colored chalk. “We must next draw runes. These runes will connect our world to the netherworld and draw the demon upward.” A few Seventh-Years who were taking Ancient Runes stepped forward to help. “Be careful that you make them *exactly* how they appear in the book, or Merlin knows what will happen.”
Once that was done, he instructed them to gather around the circle, wands pointed at the center. He took his place at the head of the circle (if there was such a thing). He began to chant, and the others dutifully repeated. All took care to carefully enunciate the words. Severus’ previous demon-raising had gone badly wrong when he mispronounced the name and a much larger and dangerous demon had appeared.
At the end of the incantation, he drew his wand down in a quick slashing motion, and a dark semicircle appeared suspended in the air. The split gradually widened. Behind it was black nothingness, with occasional shadowy shapes wriggling or whizzing by. A faint stench of sulfur began to permeate the room.
A *something* began to emerge from the crack. There were a few scattered gasps. It was a grey shadowy being, translucent, with small curling horns above its ears. It was not much larger than a rather fat cat. “Demon, I summon you to do my bidding!” Severus spoke imperiously. The demon stared at him with lidless yellow eyes. If Snape was unnerved, he did not show it. “Okay, what do we want it to do?”
Dead silence. They had never thought past trapping the demon.
“Let’s send it to torment the Gryffindors!”
“Have it go get some firewhiskey!”
“Make it tell us the secrets of the underworld.”
“We should sic him on Peeves!”
Severus snorted in derision, hiding the fact that he too had no idea what to ask of it… at least, nothing that wouldn’t involve permanent detention. “Demon, I command you to…” He broke off, frowning in concentration. The rift was getting bigger. That just couldn’t be good.
The smaller demon was sucked through with a distorted yelp. Something else was coming through. Something much bigger. “Oh hell,” Severus whispered softly. This demon was easily the size of a cow, with horns that corkscrewed down the side of his head and fiendishly glowing red eyes.
“Umm… Severus? That’s not good, is it?”
“No, it’s not good.”
Several students began to scream as they backed away. Many tripped over various pieces of furniture. “No, you fools! Stay in formation and fortify the circle!”
The demon made a sudden lunge, and Snape lifted his wand. The creature hit an invisible barrier and rebounded. Severus grimaced; the aftershocks had traveled down his arm. “Damn you; get back here and help with the circle!” The others were too busy panicking to be of any help.
Nott grabbed Draco by his hair and dragged him over. “Get your wand out, you coward!” he yelled. Trembling, Draco pulled out his wand, only to drop it.
The door to the common room opened with a loud bang. Relief was palpable as Professor Snape swept into the room like an angry bat. “Just what is going on here?” he demanded in a quietly furious voice.
The students pointed with shaking hands. Their gesture proved to be unnecessary, as the demon made another rush against the barrier. “Ah, I see. Demon-raising, isn’t it?”
Severus grimaced as he kept his wand aloft. He did not bother with a reply.
The professor picked up the library book on the table. “Madame Pince has been looking for this. I’ll hold onto it for safekeeping until it can be returned.”
The young Slytherin cried out as the demon battered his shield once more. “I could use a little help here!”
Professor Snape waved his wand and a chair whizzed over. He seated himself and conjured a container of popcorn. “Do continue.”
Severus shot him a horrified look. It was full of shock and indignation. He felt abandoned.
The professor looked at him with fathomless black eyes. “Surely you planned for this eventuality. I’m certain that you would not have proceeded otherwise.” The teen swallowed hard, either in anger or nervousness. “Mister Malfoy, Mister Nott, Mister Thompson. Take positions across from each other around the circle and reinforce its energies.” They stepped forward and took their places. “Now, Mister Snape, please do address the rather insignificant issue of the demon trying to tear its way into our Common Room.”
Severus straightened, setting his jaw in angry determination. He was to handle that abomination all on his own? Very well. He would.
Now that the circle had been stabilized, he was free to go on the offense. “Reducto!” he commanded, and the tear around the demon contracted, holding it in place. It could not enter any further, and nothing could squeeze by it.
He threw hex after curse at it. Some rebounded and sent dangerous energies careening through the protective shield. Some seemed to bother the demon no more than an irritating gnat. Most disturbingly, some spells the demon seemed to actually digest. In desperation, he yelled “Sectumsempra!” Since the demon was part shadow, the majority of its body was unaffected, but a horn was shorn off and fell to the floor. Seeing its prized horn so mutilated, it roared in rage. Everyone in the room quaked in fear. Even Professor Snape looked somewhat alarmed. “Oh, dear,” he sighed.
Severus blinked. He didn’t know if it was just an offhand exclamation or a deliberate hint, but he suddenly had an idea. Pointing his wand directly between the creature’s eyes, he cried, “Expecto Patronum!” White light fairly exploded from the wand tip, coalescing into a running doe, who charged the demon. With an enraged gibbering cry, it pulled backward into the rip. Once the obstruction had been removed, the rip in netherspace sealed itself.
Severus sat down on the floor with an abrupt bump, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Malfoy, Nott and Thompson (a Seventh-Year with curly brown hair) lowered their wands and looked uncertain. Whispers filled the room. “He cut off its horn!” “A full Patronus! Did you see?” “I heard only Potter can do that.” “Nah, a few others can. They learned it in that silly club.”
Professor Snape stood and the chair obediently slid into a corner. “I believe that is yours,” he remarked. Numbly, Severus knelt and picked up the severed horn. Even holding it gave him the creeps. “Twenty points for Slytherin for keeping a cool head and using ingenuity to defeat an opponent. I do hope it is not necessary to discuss how that creature came to be in my Common Room in the first place.” The boy felt relieved. Snape hadn’t abandoned him; he had just let him clean up his own mess and learn from the experience.
He held the Dark Arts book aloft. “Books will no longer liberate themselves from the Restricted Section. You will be allowed access to the Restricted Section only when accompanied by Madame Pince, and you cannot withdraw any books without specific permission from a professor.” The boy looked mutinous.
The professor scowled at the gathered students. “Tonight has been a very graphic example of why it is not a good idea to experiment with Dark Magic. Mister Snape, I had hoped that the last time would have brought the message home. Tell me; are you eager to face another demon anytime soon?”
“No, sir,” he muttered, glaring at the floor.
“Very well. Since your thirst for forbidden knowledge has apparently not been slaked, I will allow you and only you to peruse my private library. You may do so only in my presence and will not be allowed to remove any books from my quarters. You may use a transcribing charm to transfer key passages to parchment if they are required for schoolwork.”
The teen’s eyes shone as all rebellious thoughts vanished. “May I? Oh, *thank* you, sir!”
“I trust any remaining books from the Restricted Section will find their way back by tomorrow morning?”
“I’m certain they will, sir.”
“See that they do. And if another demon sees fit to visit, I may just let it eat you.” His voice was gruff, but he seemed amused despite himself. Severus gave an almost-smile in return.
“Do see to it that my Common Room is straightened up.”
“We will, sir!” Malfoy exclaimed, wanting a share of the recognition. Snape didn’t even look at him twice as he exited. Once he left, Draco gestured to Crabbe and Goyle. “Well, get going!”
Snape glared at the tow-headed boy. “I want my gloves.”
Continue to chapters 5-7
Author: PhantomTF
Pairing/Characters: Professor!Snape/Student!Snape
Rating: Chapters range from G to NC-17. I've flagged the entire story with Explicit Adult Content to be on the safe side.
Category: Angst
Word Count: 70,200, or 153 pages in Microsoft Word
Warnings: character death, brief torture, dark themes, sex between two men who are essentially the same person, teacher/student relationship
Disclaimer: The boys are not mine, only this crazy tale is
Summary: A Potions accident splits Snape into two people - a dour professor and an angsty rebellious teen. Both must now coexist at Hogwarts and in a time of war.
Author's note: I’m certain some variation of this concept has been done before, but hopefully at least the story itself will be original enough to please.
This story is AU, replacing the events in Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. I will make reference to items, events and concepts that came up in Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows - they will be altered to fit into this new storyline, but there are still possible spoilers.
Although the majority of this story is PG-13 at best, there are definitely some NC-17 scenes as well.
“Snape” is usually used to refer to Professor Snape, and “Severus” is usually used to refer to student Snape.
Chapter One
He glided up the aisle with scarcely a noise, his robes making a soft whispering sound as they brushed by the desks. “Two minutes remaining,” he murmured in a threatening baritone. Most of the students had not completed their potions, and he allowed himself a private smirk as he watched them scramble to finish on time.
His smirk turned to a sneer of disgust as he caught sight of three heads (one dark-haired, one flame-colored, and one a tousled mess of chestnut curls) bent over a cauldron. He had no real objections to having Granger in his Advanced Potions class, though she was an insufferable know-it-all. However, Potter and Weasley had only received E’s in their potion OWLS (privately, he was gobsmacked that they had managed to do even that much) and had no right to even sit in the presence of Outstanding students. But of course the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Be-A-Brat must be coddled and carried along the way to whatever glorious fate awaited after the impending defeat of the Dark Lord, Merlin willing.
It had taken a good deal of wheedling and arm-twisting, with a smidgen of old-fashioned blackmail for good measure, for Snape to relent on his policy of O students only. He was positive that Dumbledore had been a Slytherin in a previous lifetime. He was a bit awed, in spite of his outrage.
“Time’s up. Please bring your cauldrons to the front of the room for inspection.”
Potter stood up, cauldron full of simmering potion in hand. Today, with an inward shudder of apprehension, he had allowed the students to select which NEWT-level potion they had wanted to brew. The Gryffindor trio-of-doom had brewed a Separating Solution, which was useful for separating potions into their base compounds. Draco and his cronies had created a Youth Serum.
Severus was heading to his desk when a scuffle caught his attention. As usual, the Potter brat was at odds with Malfoy. Malfoy gestured with his wand, causing Potter to trip and spill the contents of his cauldron. The Slytherins snickered. In retaliation, Weasley fired off some kind of hex, causing Malfoy’s cauldron to send a geyser of potion rushing out. Both concoctions hit the unfortunate Potions professor within seconds.
Snape froze and remained stock-still. A most unpleasant sensation was nagging at him - it began as fingers tickling his back but quickly mutated. He tried to lunge for the emergency shower, but as he turned he felt a tugging sensation, much like a rubber band that had reached its stretching limit. He bit his lip against a cry of pain and tasted blood. Just as the pain reached its crescendo, it abruptly cut off.
The Potions master stood shuddering and gasping, almost in shock. The infernal children stared at him in mute horror. It gave him some grim satisfaction. Yes, they lived in fear for what he would do next… would he scream and fly into a rage, or would his voice become deathly quiet as he flayed the skin from their bones with his barbed tongue? Then he realized that their gazes were focused somewhere behind him. With a sense of trepidation, he turned.
There was a student behind him. A Slytherin, judging from his robes. But this was no student that he recognized. The boy raised his head, and Snape felt a jolt.
Snape blinked his black eyes. The boy blinked equally black eyes in response. “Who are you?” the professor said slowly, already suspecting the response.
The student frowned. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
There were a few soft gasps. The boy’s voice was higher, but there was no doubting that the two voices were remarkably similar.
Snape studied the boy. He was tall and skinny, bordering on bony. He had a waxy, sallow complexion. His hair was black and hung almost to his rounded shoulders. The strands were lank and greasy-looking. The man groaned in despair. “Severus?”
“Yes,” the boy replied warily.
Hermione sensibly decided to act. “I’ll go fetch Madame Pomfrey.”
Snape still appeared in shock. “Better inform Dumbledore as well.”
Chapter Two
Madame Pomfrey arrived in short order, dismissing classes and scolding the elder Snape for not washing the potion off himself straightaway. She dragged the two Snapes by the collars into the showerhead that stood in the far corner of the classroom (any Potions master worth their salt knew not to cast spells on unknown substances). They both shivered miserably as the icy cold water cascaded down until their clothes were plastered to their skin. Once the mediwitch was satisfied, she spelled them dry and ushered them to Dumbledore’s office.
Hermione was already speaking with the Headmaster when the Snapes entered. “Hello, Severus,” the old man said with an especially bright twinkle in his eye. Both tried to greet him at once, then stopped and glared at each other.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” the teen finally grumbled.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Professor Snape growled. “There’s been a Potions accident.”
“But how can that be? One minute I’m working with Lily on Felix Felicis, and the next minute I’m in the same classroom but with a different professor and different students!”
“If what Miss Granger tells me is true, then we indeed have a situation on our hands. Please, Professor, Mister Snape, have a seat.” He offered a tray of sugar quills, which both took while trying not to look too interested. Dumbledore suppressed a smile. He knew their secret vice. “Mister Snape, indulge me, please. What is today’s date?”
“March twenty-third, nineteen seventy-five,” the Slytherin replied.
Professor Snape rubbed his temples as if trying to soothe away an impending headache. “It is indeed March twenty-third, but the year is nineteen ninety-seven. Clearly the accident has manifested a younger version of myself.”
“Professor Snape,” Hermione spoke up. He was surprised she wasn’t waving her hand around in the air. “I believe I can help figure out what happened.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. The impending headache was getting worse. “*Thank* you, Miss Granger,” he said sarcastically, “but as I am the resident Potions master, I should be able to do just fine on my own.”
Dumbledore tsked, smiling merrily. Both Snapes wanted to throttle him. “Come now, Severus, let’s hear what she’s got to say.”
“Ahem. Well, yes.” Hermione looked flustered, and the elder Snape felt a pang of savage joy. “Harry, Ron and I were working on a Separating Solution. Well, the color wasn’t quite right, and…”
“Get to the point,” he hissed between clenched teeth. Young Severus bent his head and looked at the floor, his hair obscuring his face, but the professor was certain he was smirking.
“Ah, yes, anyway, Malfoy tripped Harry, Ron hexed Malfoy, and Malfoy spilled his Youth Serum. Professor Snape was dosed first by the Separating Solution, then by the Youth Serum. It’s my theory that our potion caused Professor Snape to begin to separate, and Malfoy’s potion caused his counterpart to become a younger version.”
“And what are your thoughts, Severus?” Albus asked politely.
Severus made his features as blank as possible. “While Miss Granger’s theory is *interesting*, to be certain, it does not seem to be entirely correct. A Separating Solution is designed to separate potions into their base components. The worst it would do to a human is cause a skin rash and blistering.”
Hermione shifted nervously. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I think Ron chopped the shrivelfigs too coarsely. Plus he didn’t wipe his knife after dicing the flobberworms. And who knows what could have happened once our contaminated potion was mixed with Malfoy’s?” Snape grunted noncommittally, and Hermione knew she’d won.
Dumbledore decided to rub salt in the wound. “I have granted Hermione five House points for quick thinking in a crisis, and for helping to analyze the problem.”
“It would have been more suitable to take points from Gryffindor for Potter’s shocking lack of self-control in instigating the attack on Mister Malfoy.”
“Then you will have to deduct points from Slytherin as well for Mister Malfoy’s involvement. But since the incident occurred to your personage in your classroom, I will leave the discipline up to you. As for you, Miss Granger, it’s nearly time for dinner and I’m sure your friends will be expecting you.”
Hermione nodded. “If I think of anything else that was different about the potion, I’ll be sure to let you know.” She headed for the passageway with the stone gargoyle, her tangled frizz of curls floating behind her.
Silence reigned. “So I’m really a professor?” Severus finally asked.
Professor Snape sighed. “Yes, I am Potions master and Professor. I am also Head of Slytherin House.” His younger self looked sufficiently awed.
Dumbledore chuckled. “I’m sure you two have plenty to discuss, and there will be ample time to get acquainted shortly. However, we must first decide Mister Snape’s fate. Since we do not know how long the effects of the potion will last, let us assume that he will be with us for awhile.”
Professor Snape spoke up. “My quarters are large, but they are currently furnished for one occupant.” He did not look overjoyed with the concept of sharing his living space with an adolescent. “I would need to-”
Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. “You do not have to sacrifice the sanctity of your quarters, Severus. It would be best to proceed as if the effects are permanent, and that Mister Snape is a separate entity.” Professor Snape looked somewhat ill at the thought of a separate part of him running loose. In turn, young Severus looked disturbed that he may only be a fragment of his older self. “Mister Snape will be treated as any other student in this school. He will be provided with a space in the Slytherin dormitory and will attend classes with the other students.”
“But if I’ve already become a Master--!” Severus protested.
“Professor Snape has the right to that honorary. Although you are certainly one of the most gifted students I have ever seen, you have not yet completed your studies. If there is no way to re-integrate the both of you, then you will need to seek a separate life and gainful employment for yourself. It is best to stay on the path to a successful career that you have already begun at Hogwarts.”
Severus glared at the Headmaster from under his curtain of greasy hair. If the elder Snape’s memory served correctly, the Shrieking Shack incident had occurred not too long ago, and the boy had nothing but mistrust for Dumbledore. “The Headmaster is right, Mister Snape,” he said gruffly, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible, which proved to be rather unsuccessful. “It is best to keep things as close to normal as possible, at least until we have more information about the accident and its repercussions.”
His younger self heaved a sigh. “Fine. I guess it can’t be much worse than my usual routine.”
Dumbledore looked satisfied. “I imagine that the two of you will be eager to research this most fascinating Potions reaction. May I make a suggestion, however?” Professor Snape cocked an eyebrow. “Do send a sample to Horace. I’m sure he’ll be of immense help. Besides, I believe his retreat from the public eye is beginning to wear on him.”
“Professor Slughorn? What’s become of him?” It had just dawned on the teen that his Potions professor no longer operated in that capacity.
Snape shot him a sharp look. “He retired quite a number of years ago. However, with recent activities of a certain dark wizard - I will not speak the name but you have likely heard of him - he has gone into hiding.”
Albus clapped his hands together. “Well, then. Now that the matter of Mister Snape’s accommodations has been settled, it is time to address my rumbling stomach. I have heard a rumor that the house elves have prepared treacle tart for dessert.”
The two stood and headed for the door. Just as they were leaving, Dumbledore called after them, “Do not neglect your meals in the interest of research! I will have Mippy drop by with a tray.” He chuckled as the door slid closed on a muffled curse.
“Interfering, infuriating, batty old man!” Snape-the-elder grumbled as they both made their way from Dumbledore’s office to the dungeons. “You might as well join me for dinner, since the house elf will bring far more than I could ever eat, as usual. I am certain you will not mind delaying the curious gawking of the insipid student body.”
“Why are you a schoolteacher? Why are you working for Dumbledore? Why-”
“Great Merlin, why do you ask so many questions?” The boy fell silent and glared at him sullenly. The professor heaved an almost inaudible sigh. “You should know that I am not a kind or friendly person. I am not fond of students. I am not here to mollycoddle you or wipe your nose.”
The student snorted. “You must have really lost touch with your youth; otherwise you’d realize I feel the same way. I feel disgust for most of my classmates, since they are mediocre students and pay more attention to Quidditch than their lessons. I’ve been pretty much fending for myself even before I reached Hogwarts, so I don’t need any babying. All I ask is the chance to prove myself.”
Snape nodded grudgingly. “Perhaps we may get along after all.” He lead the way to his office. His younger self stopped short and gaped at the collection of *things* pickled in jars along the shelves. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “This place is awesome! I can’t believe you’ve actually got grindylow fingers and runespoor heads.” He beamed, tracing the shelves with his fingertips, careful not to touch the jars. It was then that full realization hit Professor Snape - this was not the run-of-the-mill snot-nosed brat. This was *him* - the awkward teenager who had always had his head in a book, whose joy in life was inventing new spells and potions. Most students loathed his office, to his secret delight, but his younger self could actually appreciate its contents. He couldn’t say he was fond of having a separate self, but it was certainly better, say, then a younger version of Lupin or James Potter.
With a flourish of the elder Snape’s wand, graded parchments sorted themselves to piles and floated into a drawer. Stray vials and potions samples rearranged themselves on a nearby rack. “Sit,” he commanded. Young Snape seated himself, wincing at the uncomfortable seat. A quick Cushioning charm brought him great relief.
“Now,” Professor Snape began, “the first order of business is to discuss-”
“Mippy is bringing food!” A house elf arrived bearing a tray. No sooner had she placed it on the table than she disappeared. She was used to Professor Snape and knew he found house-elf chatter irritating. Albus had sent chicken pot pie, their favorite - guaranteed this was not what was being served at the Great Hall. Just another manipulation from the old man. Both Snapes gladly eschewed further conversation in favor of digging in.
Once every crumb had disappeared and they were stuffed full, the tray disappeared. Snape was surprised how such a little thing like a full meal could slightly improve his mood. “Mister Snape, we need to discuss the matter of your classes. NEWTS will be coming up next year, so I will help you choose the best classes that will further your career.”
“Hopefully I can just pick up more or less where I left off. I’ve been taking Advanced Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Ancient Runes.”
“I’d recommend adding Transfiguration to your schedule.”
“Transfiguration! Why? It has absolutely no bearing on my Mastership.”
Professor Snape scowled. “Because I have never been good at Transfiguration, and I hate having a weakness in skill.”
“Perhaps McGonagall -- *Professor* McGonagall,” he amended quickly, seeing his older self’s displeasure, “will agree to tutor me once a month. But since I have difficulty with Transfiguration, I’ll probably have trouble keeping up in a NEWT-level class. I can’t imagine how I managed to get an E for that subject in my OWLs in the first place.”
“Very well, I see your point. Give me a list of your current subjects and I will make arrangements to enroll you, starting with the next available class.”
“Whatever am I going to do for books? I’ve got nothing but my wand. Come to think of it, if I’m just a part of you, why am I dressed and carrying another copy of your wand? Shouldn’t I have appeared naked?” They both shuddered.
“Since your manifestation was caused by an accident, there’s still a lot we don’t know about the event. I can only guess that you were created using my memories of my youth, including the clothes and wand I recall having.”
“Couldn’t you have thought of some books too?”
“Believe me, if I could make things appear by thinking of them, I’d have come up with something better. No offense,” he said hastily.
“None taken.”
Circe, he liked this boy. He was matter-of-fact and had a tough outer skin. What a refreshing change from the lacksidasical students he taught, who did a half-arsed job and then had the nerve to cry that life wasn’t fair when he deducted house points. “Wait here,” he instructed. “I’ll see what I can dig up for you.” The boy shrugged, turning his attention back to the fascinating contents of the office.
The professor finally returned with a miniature trunk in the palm of his hand. “I found my old trunk - no idea what’s really in it, since I never finished emptying it out after graduation. I managed to dig up some of my old uniforms from Seventh Year. You may need to do a bit of a shrinking charm - shouldn’t hurt, since there’s been some extensive lengthening charms cast on them. The house elves were able to scrounge up some extra pairs that have been abandoned as well. Most of the books in here are mine. If you damage Mum’s old Advanced Potions book with my notes in it, I will skin you alive.”
“Is there anything else I’m going to need?”
“I was not able to get you a Herbology book - they changed the edition since I graduated. I will mention the issue to Madame Sprout, and hopefully she can locate an extra copy. The supplies in here will only last for a few days, but I will work on getting you more items in the meantime.”
“Um…” the teen looked awkward, ducking his head to stare at the floor. “You wouldn’t have a decent pair of smalls, would you?” His cheeks flamed scarlet, and both remembered the painful humiliation regarding their shabby underpants by James Potter.
“I’ve included a few pairs of my own. You’ll need to shrink them a bit, but they should be comfortable. They are black silk - a gift from Lucius, as a matter of fact.”
“Luc’s good with things like that.” Although Lucius had already graduated when the “pants” incident occurred, word had reached him and he had very kindly sent a large supply of expensive underwear to his protégé. The Snape family had little money, and the few pence that his mother could wrest from his father and turn to knuts were usually spent on Potions ingredients or books. Clothes and food took second place. Young Severus had had a thriving mini black market in Potions trade, but it wasn’t enough to cover all his basic needs.
They talked a bit more, about how the staffing had changed since his school days and differences in the curriculum. Snape was able to draft a rough schedule for his young charge, so Severus could attend classes the very next day. They were startled by a peal from the clock on the wall, whose hands were rapidly approaching ‘curfew’.
“Come,” Professor Snape said briskly. “Time to get you settled.” He studied his younger self thoughtfully as they headed for the Slytherin dorm. “Mister Snape. I will give you some advice. It will no doubt sound like criticism, but please do not wilt into a paroxysm of angst - I know how teenagers get. You must stop slouching and keep your head held high. I know how tempting it is to try to blend in with the walls, but it also makes you look like a target. As long as you look like you have confidence and determination, others will assume that you do.” He gently adjusted the Slytherin’s posture until the boy was standing straight and tall. “Very good. Now observe me.” The professor strode determinedly down the hall. Several second-year Slytherins dashed down the hall, squeaked when they saw his menacing stalking, and darted through the portrait hole.
Severus admired his older self’s presence. The billowing robes were part of the persona, but Professor Snape was right - it was all in how he carried himself. Perhaps the Gryffindors would not pick on him so much if he didn’t look so meek. The professor had already helped him more than anyone else in this cursed school ever had.
“Shall we?” Snape gestured to the portrait. “The password is Salazar.”
Severus nodded at his Head of House and preceded him into the Common Room. The few students that were still gathered around the fire jumped up and stood at attention. Snape nodded to them curtly as he ushered his charge up the stairs to the Sixth-Year boys’ room. An extra bed had already appeared, complete with sheets and covers, courtesy of the house elves.
The Sixth-Year boys reacted much as the students in the Common Room did - they dropped whatever they were doing and lined up. Severus was very impressed - they had certainly never done this for Slughorn. Professor Snape must inspire a healthy dose of fear and respect.
“I’m certain you have all heard of the potions accident that occurred in my classroom earlier today.” He directed an evil glare toward a blond-headed boy, who cringed slightly. “This is Mister Severus Snape.” The boys shot curious glances at each other, barely able to restrain their curiosity. “He will be staying for an indeterminable length of time. Normally I would tell you to welcome him, but I’m certain he would greatly prefer being left alone. If you treat him poorly, he will make you regret it.”
He pulled the miniature trunk from his pocket, placed it on the floor, and enlarged it to its usual size. “If you are in need of additional supplies, do let me know. The others will advise you to my office hours. Do not disturb me after curfew unless you are maimed or dying. I will see you tomorrow in Advanced Potions.” He turned on his heel and marched away. Severus watched the teaching robes trailing behind his Head of House. The man certainly had style.
He had the creepy sensation he was being watched. Sure enough, when he turned around he felt every eye in the room upon him. Ignoring them all, he knelt and dug through his trunk. He shoved everything aside, getting down to the bottom, until he finally found what he sought. His nose wrinkled - twenty-year-old cigarettes would be beyond nasty, but he was desperate. After the crazy events of the past few hours, he needed something to calm his nerves. He put one in his mouth and tapped the end with his wand, ignoring the shocked gasps of his dorm-mates. He took a deep breath, grimacing. A jet of water shot from the ceiling, extinguishing the fag dangling from his lips. A steady stream of swear words issued from the young Slytherin’s mouth. The others were impressed - some weren’t even in English.
“Sorry, mate,” a stringy-looking boy said. “Professor Snape won’t let us smoke in the dorms. He said if he ever caught us with a fag, he’d make us eat it while it was still lit.”
A huge, hulking boy looked shocked. “I can’t believe you *smoke*. Does it taste good?”
Severus snorted. “Tastes like crap. He’s right to keep you from starting. I’ve tried to quit before but nearly went mad from nicotine withdrawal. But he doesn’t have to ruin my bloody fag either.” He noticed the blond boy. “You must be a Malfoy. Are you related to Lucius?”
The boy preened. “I’m Draco. Lucius is my father.”
“He procreated. Heaven help us all.” Draco’s smirk faded. “You’re just as vain as he was, too. At least you have the good sense to keep your hair short. Always told old Luc he looked like a girl.” The others tittered, while Draco looked peeved. “Aw, come off it. Lucius always laughs when I tell him that. If he doesn’t take offense, I don’t see why you should.”
Apparently accepting Snape’s sort-of apology, Draco continued on as if nothing had happened. “This is Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini.” They stared at him. He stared back.
Deciding that the staring match was boring, Severus sat upon his bed and buried his nose in a thick tome he had withdrawn from his trunk. It seemed to be a very advanced compendium on Defense - topics that probably weren’t even taught at the NEWT level.
Seeing that Snape was not going to be more forthcoming, the others eventually lost interest. After completing their various school assignments, they began to prepare for bed. Snape finally closed the book and fished his nightclothes from the trunk. They were threadbare and washed-out looking. “Did Professor Snape have to give you remnants from the lost-and-found?” the stringy boy - Nott - asked.
“Yeah,” he said shortly, not looking up from the nightshirt. It was technically true, though this particular item of clothing actually had been his.
“Oh, that sucks,” Zabini said.
Snape also withdrew the adult-size underwear; then disappeared behind the curtains of his bed to change. Apparently he was the modest sort. He neatly folded his clothes and put them aside for the house elves to launder.
Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard a voice whisper softly, “Psst. He wears boxers. You owe me five galleons.”
Chapter Three
The next day, the Slytherin sixth-year boys heard their new roommate awaken with a muffled curse. A quietly muttered cleansing charm soon followed. They grinned surreptitiously at each other. Apparently the newcomer suffered from the same youthful hormones as the rest of them.
Snape changed into a bathrobe under cover of his bedside curtains, then slunk off to the showers. He emerged a few minutes later, clean but with lank and limp hair. Apparently even shampoo couldn’t do much to save it.
Once dressed, he then gathered his rucksack and headed out the door. When Draco and his cronies reached the Great Hall, Snape was nowhere in sight. A few minutes later, he came through the door, clutching an equally thick book than the one from last night. This one bore a small sticker indicating it was a library book.
“Snape! Come sit here!”
The teen looked at Draco with a hint of surprise; then trudged over, dragging his heavy bag. He helped himself to breakfast and began shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth with one hand while holding the massive book open with the other. The book provided a convenient shield from the curious stares and whispers of the other students.
“What classes are you in?”
Snape apparently accepted that Draco wasn’t going to leave him alone. He pulled out his list of classes and handed it over without interrupting his meal.
“We’re in Potions and Defense together. I’ll save you a seat.”
“Okay.”
The large clock boomed out the hour. “Crap, gotta go!” Draco yelled, grabbing his bag. Crabbe and Goyle shuffled after him. Snape grabbed his book and headed in the opposite direction.
They did not meet up again until Potions. Draco patted the seat next to him as Severus walked in. Zabini looked put out. Apparently Snape had usurped his seat. The Slytherin sat down and pulled out his Advanced Potions book, flipped to a page, and promptly began making notes in the margins.
Draco craned his neck. “What are you doing?”
Severus did not look up. “Making improvements.” He glanced pointedly at the large desk at the front of the room. “Where’s the professor?”
Blaise snickered. “He likes to make an entrance.”
Sure enough, the exact second that classes were to begin, the door banged open and Professor Snape strode in. “Today we will be making the Ptolemus Serum. Do observe closely. If the ingredients are not properly prepared - in the proper manner, proper quantities, and proper order - the potion will explode. Needless to say, this will result in a failing grade for today’s exercise. Rather than working in teams, you will each be brewing separate potions.” He glanced scornfully at his small class. “I require an assistant for this lesson. Mister Snape, come up here. Bring your knife.”
The professor lectured on the properties and purpose of the potion. He then gestured to the cabinet in the corner. “Gather your ingredients and take them back to your seats.” Once that was finished, Snape gestured to his younger self. “The wheatgrass roots must be finely chopped. Take care to not tear them. Mister Snape, please demonstrate.” With a flash of his knife, the young Slytherin quickly and efficiently chopped the roots. “The boiled doxy eggs must be shelled. Do not puncture the inner skin of the egg, or its contents will prematurely leach into the potion and cause it to explode.” Mister Snape picked up an egg, which was the size of a pea. He lightly tapped the egg with the flat side of his blade until fine cracks appeared. He pulled the shell fragments away from the egg with amazing speed, until he was left with a perfectly bare sphere. “In this particular potion, timing is crucial, so I advise preparing your ingredients ahead of time. You may begin now.”
Severus returned to his seat and began industriously preparing the potion. He finished far sooner than anyone else. Professor Snape nodded approvingly. “Have you added an agent to speed the reaction?”
“I used a few grains of anise seed.”
“Very good. I will award extra credit. Since you completed your assignment early, you may start on an independent project of your own.”
Severus looked like he’d won the lottery. He fairly floated to the Potions cabinet. Meanwhile, Hermione was nearly done - her potion was perfect, but she looked mutinous. Apparently departing from the book’s instructions went against the grain.
A loud explosion sounded. Ron slumped in his seat, morosely staring at the blackened mess. Snape directed a sneer in his direction. Hermione looked aggravated but helped him clean up the mess anyway. Meanwhile, she almost forgot to remove her own potion from the fire, causing it to congeal slightly. Harry’s potion was entirely the wrong color. Draco and Blaise did fairly well, but nothing spectacular.
“You could’ve shared the secret of the anise seeds with us!” Blaise grumbled as class was dismissed.
“Don’t mind him,” Draco said soothingly. Severus got the feeling that Draco was up to something, no doubt trying to kiss up. “Could you help me with my cutting technique sometime?”
“I suppose.”
“How’d you get so good at it, anyway?”
Snape’s face became much more animated. “Oh, I’ve been handling a knife ever since I learned to walk. Mum was always very good at Potions. You’d be surprised at how the little things, like the way the blade is held, can influence a potion.”
Malfoy looked pleased at finally having found a way to get the teen to open up. The two walked together towards their Defense class, with Blaise trailing, acting as if he wasn’t listening in. They were joined in short order by Crabbe and Goyle. “Sounds like your mum taught you a lot.”
“Oh yeah. Not just Potions either. All kinds of spells, including hexes and jinxes. I’ve made up a few of my own too. I’m glad she didn’t believe in that rubbish about not having wizards do magic before they get to school.”
Draco snickered. His parents had exactly the same attitude. “What about your father? Was he good at potions too?”
Snape clenched his jaw, his expression hardening. “He’s an arse. I don’t want to talk about him.” To change the subject, he asked, “How’s your dad been? Last I remember, Abraxus was trying to get him in touch with some high-profile Ministry contacts.”
It was Draco’s turn to look uncomfortable. He pulled Snape into an alcove. “Dad’s in Azkaban,” he whispered.
Severus looked shocked. “For what? Using too much conditioner?”
Goyle giggled. “What are you laughing for, stupid?” Draco sneered. “Your dad’s in jail too.” He lowered his voice. “Our dads were caught supporting the Dark Lord. It’s all stupid Potter’s fault, of course. But just you wait. Our lord does not forget loyalty. He’ll break them out sooner or later.”
Snape frowned. “But if your fathers are in jail, wouldn’t that mean they failed? If this lord rewards loyalty, surely he will also punish failure.”
Malfoy suddenly didn’t look so cocky. “Come on, let’s just get to class.”
Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught by a nondescript man by the name of Kirby. Severus was very disappointed. After having just been spoiled by an excellent Potions teacher (in his humble opinion), he had hoped to enjoy his other favorite subject. The man made defensive spells sound as exciting as watching paint dry.
He was already familiar with the Defense text, so he used the opportunity to sneak glances at Potter. Apparently this was not the same Potter that he knew, but it might as well have been. The face, the glasses, the walk, the smartarse attitude…. It was James all over again.
Potter must have sensed something, for he turned around to stare at Snape. The Slytherin was pierced by blazing green eyes. Lily’s eyes. It didn’t take a Master to figure out whose child that was. Damn it all to hell. James had spawned… with *her*. His opinion of Lily’s intelligence was totally shot. He couldn’t deny how much it stung. Potter narrowed his eyes, and Severus slipped his hand into his pocket, reaching for the handle of his wand. Professor Kirby walked by. Potter turned to face the front of the classroom, and Snape allowed the tension to release from his frame. Draco watched the exchange with relish, elbowing Crabbe and Goyle.
On their way out the door, Potter bumped into him. He supposed it could have been an accident, but the way the Gryffindor glared at him was anything but friendly. “Watch it, Snape,” he spat.
“You’re one to talk, Potter,” he spat in return. “You bumped into me. Rather klutzy of you.”
Potter looked like he wanted to say more, but Ron dragged him away. “Come on, mate. He’s not worth it.”
“Muggle-loving prat,” Draco sneered.
Snape started down the large staircase winding its way down to the dungeons. The other Slytherins trailed behind, talking to each other and not paying him much mind. On the way down, a haughty brunette from Hufflepuff laughed to her friends, “Good lord, he’s ugly! Nose might as well be a beak.” Her laughter was cut short as she tripped, tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs. Her friends gasped and ran after her.
“Awfully clumsy. Must be catching,” Severus remarked calmly as he stepped over her battered body. The rest of the onlookers watched him in shocked silence, not daring to say a word.
The student body thought that a young Snape would be an ideal target for their grudge against the elder professor. From the sudden string of “accidents” that followed (one student had his tie singed; another found himself nearly cut in two by his belt), they learned to leave him well enough alone.
Professor McGonagall cornered him after yet another incident. She had actually witnessed it but couldn’t definitively prove that he was the cause. “Just watch your step, young man,” she warned him sternly. “Students who use jinxes to harm others will be severely punished.”
His antics had not gone unnoticed in his own house. That night, he sat in a plush armchair in the Common Room with his feet propped on an ottoman, head bent over a parchment, quill scratching furiously. A fat hand grabbed him by the shoulder and tried to pull him out of his seat. He looked up angrily to see Crabbe’s expression change from cross to horrified. “Uh, sorry,” he muttered and quickly backed away. After that, he kept his wand prominently displayed in his left hand.
He headed upstairs, where he surprised Zabini and Nott playing a card came featuring lewd playing cards. They threw him a nervous glance as he came in. “I’m not going to snitch on you, if that’s what you think,” he grumbled. “If you’re getting into trouble, that’s *his* problem, not mine.”
Malfoy stared at the book he was carrying. It was obviously a book on the Dark Arts. “Say, isn’t that from the Restricted Section?”
“Yeah.”
“They let you check that out?”
A slight smirk curled the thin lips. “No.”
“Blimey!” Goyle exclaimed. “You know how to nick books from the Restricted Section?”
Before he could answer, a Seventh-Year appeared in the doorway. “Snape. Got any idea why my potion didn’t work? I’m supposed to write a roll of parchment about it but I don’t have a clue.”
Relieved at the change of topic, he asked the upperclassman a few questions about his potion. “You threw in the boomslang skin too soon. It’s supposed to come *after* the lacewing flies.”
“Thanks!”
Draco eyed him thoughtfully. “You already done with your Potions homework?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you give me the answers? I’ll make it worth your while.”
Snape smirked. “Alright.” He pulled out a quill and a fresh roll of parchment. Malfoy grinned slyly at his comrades, who looked dumfounded. Snape wasn’t quite what they had been expecting. The Malfoy heir sauntered around the room for a few minutes, then came up behind Snape’s chair. He squawked in anger, grabbing the parchment. “Hey! These are the wrong answers!”
Severus grinned. It was almost frightening to see. “I told you I’d give you the answers. Never said they were the *right* answers. If you can tell the difference, then you’re perfectly capable of doing the assignment on your own.”
“Prat.”
“Ponce.” He stuck out his tongue, and Draco couldn’t help but laugh. Severus had a really odd sense of humor, but he could come to like it. Father hadn’t told him many details about his friend, but he had told Draco to keep an eye out for powerful and clever friends. That’s why he had tried to befriend Harry Potter, and look how *that* turned out. Father had been right about another thing, too. Snape was one in a million, and truly brilliant wizards usually didn’t Sort into Slytherin.
* * * * *
The next day, Severus found himself running to Greenhouse Seven. He slipped inside and saw to his disappointment that Madame Sprout had already begun the lesson. “Come in, come in, have a seat,” she said, bustling towards him. He grabbed the first seat available, which was right next to an awkward-looking boy who shrank away.
“Sorry, ma’am. I was trying to get a textbook. No one has the new edition.”
“Never you mind that. Mister Longbottom will be happy to share his.” His seatmate looked anything but.
Snape pulled the textbook to the middle of the table. Longbottom whimpered and bit his lip. “What is your *problem*?” he asked irritably. The boy’s tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. With a hiss of exasperation, Snape bent his head over the book.
“Sorry,” Longbottom muttered, staring at his desk.
“Not like I’m going to bite… no matter what you’ve heard.” Snape grabbed the empty pot on the table and began filling it with enriched dirt. Longbottom forced himself to move, clumsily shoveling dirt in as well. Once he got started, his whole demeanor changed. His moves became smoother and more confident. He was in his element.
“Are… are you really a part of Professor Snape?” he asked as they kneaded the earth together, preparing it for the plant shoots.
“Apparently, though I don’t feel any different. So I guess I’m just his younger self.” He saw his companion flinch. He usually didn’t like talking to other students, but this one intrigued him. “You’re afraid of him?”
“Oh yes,” Longbottom said ruefully. “I’m really bad at Potions. I’d always blow something up or make some sort of mess.”
“No wonder you’re afraid of Professor Snape. I bet you drove him spare!”
Longbottom chuckled, finally seeing the humor. “I probably did!”
Snape shook his head, watching Longbottom don dragonhide gloves, gently handling the Flaming Snapdragon seedling and placing it into its new pot. “You seem to be much better at Herbology.”
“Yes.” A flush crept up his neck. “I hope you don’t think I’m bragging, but Madame Sprout says she wouldn’t be surprised if I took over her job.”
“Slughorn said the same thing to me, and I guess it happened.”
“Who’s Slughorn?”
“He was Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House when I was a student.”
“To be honest, it’s really weird seeing and talking to a younger version of Professor Snape. He’s so creepy it seems impossible to me that he was ever young.”
Snape smirked. “Like I just emerged from a cauldron one day?”
“Yeah.” Longbottom gave him a sidelong glance, apparently checking to see if he had taken offense.
“Personally, I don’t see how you can be good at Herbology and bad at Potions. They practically go hand-in-hand.” Severus put on his own well-worn gloves and potted another Snapdragon, ignoring its attempts to incinerate his hands.
“How so?”
“Well, I guess it’s possible to be good at Herbology and bad at Potions, but not vice-versa. Magical plants are often key ingredients in potions, and it’s important to know how and when to harvest them, and then how to preserve them, if need be.”
“Wow. I never thought of that before.”
They worked in silence, trying to pot the plants without getting too badly burned. “Time’s up, students!” Madame Sprout finally announced, clapping her hands together. “Next class we will explore how to feed and fertilize these plants. Be certain to read the next two chapters in the textbook!”
Snape gathered his belongings and was gone in an instant. Neville stared at his retreating back in bemusement.
* * * * *
Severus dropped by the Potions classroom after classes. “Excellent timing,” the professor remarked. “I was just analyzing a sample of the potion involved in our accident. Ironically, I am attempting to use a Separating Solution, but since it was part of the original potion, I’m getting some mixed results.” Severus eyed various test tubes - some of them contained clear samples of individual ingredients, but others held bizarre concoctions. One was a sludge-like grey.
Young Snape’s eyes lit up. He liked nothing better than a thorny Potions problem. “Can I take a look?” he asked eagerly.
“Be my guest.” Snape sat behind his desk and grabbed a sheaf of parchments and an inkpot. A bloodbath of red ink soon appeared on the hapless students’ essays.
They worked in companionable silence, the scratching of the student’s quill making notes about the potion a counterpart to the professor’s grading.
“How have your classes been going?” the professor asked.
Severus did not miss a beat as he passed the contents of one test tube from one beaker to another. “Not too bad. Draco’s a bit full of himself, but he’s all right. I’m used to that from Lucius, and since Draco’s the same age as me, I can tell him to stuff it if I need to.” His older self bent his head to conceal a smirk. “Potter doesn’t seem to be much different from his father, but at least the other loser Marauders weren’t there. Granger’s hand seems to be afflicted with a permanent Wingardium Leviosa spell.” The professor snorted. “Sat next to Longbottom in Herbology. Boy seems to be terrified of you.”
“As well he should be. I greatly doubted if either of us would survive the horrors his cauldron brewed.” For a time, the only sound in the room was of quills scratching and potions ingredients sloshing. “Are your classmates causing you any difficulties?”
“Some, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. As long as they don’t gang up like our favorite band of Gryffindor thugs, I think I’ll be all right.”
“If you run into something that you can’t handle, do let me or your fellow Slytherins know right away. I have implemented several changes since Slughorn was Head of House. Slytherins stand up for each other, no matter their personal feelings. The other houses are eager to tear us down, so we must present a united front.”
“Thanks, sir,” Severus said. He knew that Professor Snape was serious. It was nice to have a professor truly on his side - even Slughorn and Dumbledore never did anything much to stop the bullying he had experienced.
Now that he finally had found someone who recognized his talent and abilities, he was reluctant to leave his presence. “I suppose I’d better get going on my Defense homework. Can I come back soon?”
Professor Snape gave him a look that was almost kind. “For you, my door is always open.”
Chapter Four
The following week found Snape in his favorite armchair in the Slytherin common room. As usual, his nose was buried in a thick, heavy book. It was after curfew, so most of the students were already in bed. Only Sixth- and Seventh-years were still awake.
He cringed as peals of laughter rang out. Pansy was practically sitting in Draco’s lap. She made a face at him when she noticed him staring.
He scowled in return. “I simply can’t *stand* girls who giggle!”
“Don’t let him talk that way to me, Draco!” she protested, swatting his chest.
“Sorry, Pans, I can’t fault him there.” She flounced away in a huff, squeezing next to Millicent on the sofa.
Draco noticed the book that Snape was reading. “Say, is that another Dark Arts book from the Restricted Section?”
Severus grunted noncommittally, turning the page.
Nott knelt at the boy’s feet to read the title, practically sitting on top of the scuffed and worn shoes. “It’s about demons.”
“Really?” Pansy had forgotten all about the slight.
The Slytherins all gathered around Snape in a circle. Severus finally slammed the book shut. “You’re all acting like Thestrals around rotten meat. What do you want?”
Zabini gestured at the book. “Do you know how to raise a demon?”
Snape looked wary. “Yeah. Why?”
“Do it. I want to see,” Draco demanded imperiously.
“No. I tried once before, and it went badly wrong. Part of the wall over there had to be repainted.” He gestured, but no one else could see anything wrong with it. If it had been repaired, the job had been a good one.
“So just what can go wrong with demon-raising? It’s not as if they teach that in Defense.”
Snape heaved a put-upon sigh, setting aside his book and assuming his lecturing pose. “Raising the demon itself is actually easy. That’s the scary part. Any fool can accidentally summon one. The purpose of summoning a demon is to trap it until you can force it to do your will. However, if the demon is too strong or the wrong one is summoned, it can escape from the netherworld and start killing. It’s rather difficult to return a demon to the nether realms once it’s fully exited.”
A pretty Seventh-year girl exclaimed, “I’d love to see a demon-raising! Severus, please?”
“No way! Slughorn gave me detention for a week the last time I tried. Not to mention the fact that the demon actually ate my shoes.”
Draco thought back to his father’s lessons. When in doubt, bribe. “I’ve got a brand-new pair of dragonhide gloves that Mum sent. They’re dyed black, and it’s not really my color. I bet they’d suit you much better.”
Snape stared at the wall. It looked like he had completely spaced out, but Draco recognized a great mind at work. “Very well. I suppose I could use a new pair.” The pair erupted in cheers. Severus scowled and cast a Muffliato spell so that no curious underclassmen would hear and come snooping.
He consulted the book. “First we need to draw a protective circle. This will allow anyone outside the circle to communicate with the demon, but the demon will not be able to escape unless it overpowers the circle caster.” Several Slytherins waved their wands and hastily cleared an area of bare stone floor. Snape held his wand aloft, pointed at the floor, and very carefully traced a circle in the air. A black ring appeared on the stones.
He rummaged in his rucksack and withdrew a bit of colored chalk. “We must next draw runes. These runes will connect our world to the netherworld and draw the demon upward.” A few Seventh-Years who were taking Ancient Runes stepped forward to help. “Be careful that you make them *exactly* how they appear in the book, or Merlin knows what will happen.”
Once that was done, he instructed them to gather around the circle, wands pointed at the center. He took his place at the head of the circle (if there was such a thing). He began to chant, and the others dutifully repeated. All took care to carefully enunciate the words. Severus’ previous demon-raising had gone badly wrong when he mispronounced the name and a much larger and dangerous demon had appeared.
At the end of the incantation, he drew his wand down in a quick slashing motion, and a dark semicircle appeared suspended in the air. The split gradually widened. Behind it was black nothingness, with occasional shadowy shapes wriggling or whizzing by. A faint stench of sulfur began to permeate the room.
A *something* began to emerge from the crack. There were a few scattered gasps. It was a grey shadowy being, translucent, with small curling horns above its ears. It was not much larger than a rather fat cat. “Demon, I summon you to do my bidding!” Severus spoke imperiously. The demon stared at him with lidless yellow eyes. If Snape was unnerved, he did not show it. “Okay, what do we want it to do?”
Dead silence. They had never thought past trapping the demon.
“Let’s send it to torment the Gryffindors!”
“Have it go get some firewhiskey!”
“Make it tell us the secrets of the underworld.”
“We should sic him on Peeves!”
Severus snorted in derision, hiding the fact that he too had no idea what to ask of it… at least, nothing that wouldn’t involve permanent detention. “Demon, I command you to…” He broke off, frowning in concentration. The rift was getting bigger. That just couldn’t be good.
The smaller demon was sucked through with a distorted yelp. Something else was coming through. Something much bigger. “Oh hell,” Severus whispered softly. This demon was easily the size of a cow, with horns that corkscrewed down the side of his head and fiendishly glowing red eyes.
“Umm… Severus? That’s not good, is it?”
“No, it’s not good.”
Several students began to scream as they backed away. Many tripped over various pieces of furniture. “No, you fools! Stay in formation and fortify the circle!”
The demon made a sudden lunge, and Snape lifted his wand. The creature hit an invisible barrier and rebounded. Severus grimaced; the aftershocks had traveled down his arm. “Damn you; get back here and help with the circle!” The others were too busy panicking to be of any help.
Nott grabbed Draco by his hair and dragged him over. “Get your wand out, you coward!” he yelled. Trembling, Draco pulled out his wand, only to drop it.
The door to the common room opened with a loud bang. Relief was palpable as Professor Snape swept into the room like an angry bat. “Just what is going on here?” he demanded in a quietly furious voice.
The students pointed with shaking hands. Their gesture proved to be unnecessary, as the demon made another rush against the barrier. “Ah, I see. Demon-raising, isn’t it?”
Severus grimaced as he kept his wand aloft. He did not bother with a reply.
The professor picked up the library book on the table. “Madame Pince has been looking for this. I’ll hold onto it for safekeeping until it can be returned.”
The young Slytherin cried out as the demon battered his shield once more. “I could use a little help here!”
Professor Snape waved his wand and a chair whizzed over. He seated himself and conjured a container of popcorn. “Do continue.”
Severus shot him a horrified look. It was full of shock and indignation. He felt abandoned.
The professor looked at him with fathomless black eyes. “Surely you planned for this eventuality. I’m certain that you would not have proceeded otherwise.” The teen swallowed hard, either in anger or nervousness. “Mister Malfoy, Mister Nott, Mister Thompson. Take positions across from each other around the circle and reinforce its energies.” They stepped forward and took their places. “Now, Mister Snape, please do address the rather insignificant issue of the demon trying to tear its way into our Common Room.”
Severus straightened, setting his jaw in angry determination. He was to handle that abomination all on his own? Very well. He would.
Now that the circle had been stabilized, he was free to go on the offense. “Reducto!” he commanded, and the tear around the demon contracted, holding it in place. It could not enter any further, and nothing could squeeze by it.
He threw hex after curse at it. Some rebounded and sent dangerous energies careening through the protective shield. Some seemed to bother the demon no more than an irritating gnat. Most disturbingly, some spells the demon seemed to actually digest. In desperation, he yelled “Sectumsempra!” Since the demon was part shadow, the majority of its body was unaffected, but a horn was shorn off and fell to the floor. Seeing its prized horn so mutilated, it roared in rage. Everyone in the room quaked in fear. Even Professor Snape looked somewhat alarmed. “Oh, dear,” he sighed.
Severus blinked. He didn’t know if it was just an offhand exclamation or a deliberate hint, but he suddenly had an idea. Pointing his wand directly between the creature’s eyes, he cried, “Expecto Patronum!” White light fairly exploded from the wand tip, coalescing into a running doe, who charged the demon. With an enraged gibbering cry, it pulled backward into the rip. Once the obstruction had been removed, the rip in netherspace sealed itself.
Severus sat down on the floor with an abrupt bump, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Malfoy, Nott and Thompson (a Seventh-Year with curly brown hair) lowered their wands and looked uncertain. Whispers filled the room. “He cut off its horn!” “A full Patronus! Did you see?” “I heard only Potter can do that.” “Nah, a few others can. They learned it in that silly club.”
Professor Snape stood and the chair obediently slid into a corner. “I believe that is yours,” he remarked. Numbly, Severus knelt and picked up the severed horn. Even holding it gave him the creeps. “Twenty points for Slytherin for keeping a cool head and using ingenuity to defeat an opponent. I do hope it is not necessary to discuss how that creature came to be in my Common Room in the first place.” The boy felt relieved. Snape hadn’t abandoned him; he had just let him clean up his own mess and learn from the experience.
He held the Dark Arts book aloft. “Books will no longer liberate themselves from the Restricted Section. You will be allowed access to the Restricted Section only when accompanied by Madame Pince, and you cannot withdraw any books without specific permission from a professor.” The boy looked mutinous.
The professor scowled at the gathered students. “Tonight has been a very graphic example of why it is not a good idea to experiment with Dark Magic. Mister Snape, I had hoped that the last time would have brought the message home. Tell me; are you eager to face another demon anytime soon?”
“No, sir,” he muttered, glaring at the floor.
“Very well. Since your thirst for forbidden knowledge has apparently not been slaked, I will allow you and only you to peruse my private library. You may do so only in my presence and will not be allowed to remove any books from my quarters. You may use a transcribing charm to transfer key passages to parchment if they are required for schoolwork.”
The teen’s eyes shone as all rebellious thoughts vanished. “May I? Oh, *thank* you, sir!”
“I trust any remaining books from the Restricted Section will find their way back by tomorrow morning?”
“I’m certain they will, sir.”
“See that they do. And if another demon sees fit to visit, I may just let it eat you.” His voice was gruff, but he seemed amused despite himself. Severus gave an almost-smile in return.
“Do see to it that my Common Room is straightened up.”
“We will, sir!” Malfoy exclaimed, wanting a share of the recognition. Snape didn’t even look at him twice as he exited. Once he left, Draco gestured to Crabbe and Goyle. “Well, get going!”
Snape glared at the tow-headed boy. “I want my gloves.”
Continue to chapters 5-7