Harry Potter: I became Snape

After the Unbreakable Vow was sealed, Lyka felt a searing heat on the inside of her wrist.

She released Snape's hand and swiftly rolled up her tattered sleeve, revealing a fresh scar on her wrist.

Lyka gently traced the mark, her amber eyes swirling with a mix of hope and hatred.

"Now, can you give it to me?" she asked urgently, her gaze fixed on Snape.

Snape didn't answer immediately. His dark eyes studied the young werewolf girl before him—her chestnut-brown hair matted with blood and dirt, her face marred by fresh scratches, yet her expression held a terrifying resolve.

It struck him suddenly that this was no ordinary werewolf but a warrior driven to the brink.

"Remember our agreement," Snape said, reaching into his robes to retrieve a piece of parchment and a necklace, which he placed in her hands.

Lyka's fingers trembled as she held the items. When her fingertips brushed the canine-tooth necklace, she flinched, as if stung by something sharp.

"There's powerful dark magic in this," Dumbledore said suddenly from beside her. "Use it with utmost caution, Lyka."

"I'll be careful, Professor," Lyka said, taking a deep breath and slipping the necklace around her neck.

The blood-red canine tooth hung precisely at the center of her collarbone, stark against her pale skin, looking like a fresh wound.

Dumbledore seemed about to say more but sighed instead. "It's getting late. We should return to Hogwarts. Lyka, do you need any further assistance?"

"We're used to fending for ourselves," Lyka said, shaking her head, her fingers absently rubbing the edge of the parchment. "Now that we have this…" She glanced at Snape, a complex glint flashing in her eyes. "I think we'll manage."

Snape gave a slight nod, then surveyed the surroundings.

"Reparo—" He drew his wand, attempting to restore the ravaged campsite.

"No!" Lyka's voice stopped him just as he mended a collapsed tent.

"I want to keep it as it is," Lyka said, inhaling deeply, her gaze sweeping over every broken remnant, every bloodstain. "I don't want to pretend nothing happened… Nothing can be repaired as it was."

"And…" She pressed her cracked lips together. "I want to do something for them myself."

Snape said nothing, merely stowing his wand.

He and Dumbledore stood aside, watching Lyka move through the wreckage.

Her movements were surprisingly gentle, as if afraid to disturb something sacred. She approached the bodies, kneeling to close their eyes with a soft touch, then carried them one by one to an open space in the center of the camp.

The few survivors who could still move rose silently, joining her in the somber task.

No one spoke. Only heavy breathing and occasional sobs broke the night's stillness.

Lyka lingered longest by Mara's side. She knelt there, motionless, her trembling fingers gently combing through Mara's hair.

Under the moonlight, Snape saw glistening tears shimmer on Lyka's face.

When all the bodies were neatly arranged, the survivors began gathering scattered wood, piling it over the fallen.

"Need help?" Snape asked quietly.

Lyka shook her head, continuing her work.

Finally, Lyka found a flint in the ruins of a crooked wooden shack.

The flames rose, crackling loudly.

The firelight illuminated every survivor's face. Snape watched Lyka's profile in the glow—her taut jaw, her bitten lip, and the flames dancing in her amber eyes.

"There are still a dozen or so unaccounted for…" As the flames dwindled, Lyka turned, her voice steady again. "They must have gone with Greyback." She paused, her tone darkening. "Including my brother."

Time passed, and the flames faded. Lyka turned around.

Snape glanced at her, then reached into a small pouch inside his robes, pulling out several tents enchanted with Extension Charms, some food, and homemade potions, which he handed to her.

"These should help you through the toughest days," he said. "The potions will heal wounds and ease pain… Instructions are on the labels."

Lyka looked at the items, a flicker of gratitude passing through her eyes.

Snape then produced a gnarled wand—the one that had belonged to the parchment and necklace's previous owner, an old hag.

"Professor," Snape said, turning to the headmaster, "can we give this to them? I've always wondered why most werewolves don't have wands."

"Wizards turned into werewolves aren't stripped of their right to carry wands," Dumbledore sighed. "But their monthly transformations and nomadic lives often lead to wands being lost or destroyed."

"If they're on the Werewolf Registry, they're barred from purchasing another," he continued. "And some werewolves lose their connection to their wand, which no longer chooses them."

Snape nodded. "And for these werewolves living in the Forbidden Forest…"

"One condition of allowing them to stay was that they not carry wands, to avoid endangering the school," Dumbledore admitted.

Silence settled between the three.

Finally, Dumbledore nodded. "But I think… these are exceptional times. The wand can go to Lyka."

Lyka's fingers trembled as she took the wand. She held it up, examining every curve and worn mark.

"Thank you, Mr. Snape," she said suddenly, bowing deeply, her chestnut hair falling to hide her face. "For everything."

"If there's progress with the experiment, come to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and find Hagrid," Snape said, looking at her. He rolled up a sleeve, revealing a small snake coiled around his arm. "And if you encounter this snake in the forest, don't harm her. She might be… larger by then."

Lyka glanced at Nagini in surprise but quickly nodded.

"Let's go, Severus," Dumbledore said.

As they turned to leave, Snape cast one last look at Lyka, who had already begun tending to the other injured werewolves.

Snape raised his wand to Disapparate, but Dumbledore stopped him.

"Walk with me," the headmaster said.

They left the werewolf camp, strolling along a barely existent path deep in the Forbidden Forest. The night breeze carried the rustle of leaves and the chorus of insects.

"The Unbreakable Vow…" Dumbledore finally spoke. "Severus, you've bound Lyka to a degree of loyalty to you. What are you planning?"

"You know what I'm planning, Professor," Snape replied, his steps steady. "I'm doing what Tom is doing—building an army of werewolves loyal to my side."

"I won't pin my hopes on planting a spy or two among them," he said, "or winning them over with gifts and kind words. If we do nothing, I'm certain nearly all the werewolves will side with Tom."

"I'm giving them a choice," Snape continued, walking on. "I've never relied solely on the goodwill of outsiders. And if we do nothing, the result will be that every werewolf close to wizards will be left cowering in corners, their fates entirely in others' hands."

"Might as well be the Dark Lord, then," he said, stopping to face Dumbledore. "At least for the likes of Greyback, the Dark Lord gives them a chance to fight for their own goals."

Snape noticed an unreadable emotion in Dumbledore's gaze—not anger, not disappointment, but something fathomless.

"Severus," Dumbledore said softly, his voice nearly lost in the breeze, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Of course, Professor," Snape replied calmly, meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "I'm merely helping those in need, giving them control over their fates—and ensuring they can aid us."

Dumbledore gave him a long, searching look, then nodded.

They Disapparated separately, vanishing into the night with soft pops.

On the other side of the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid was aiming his massive crossbow warily at a bound werewolf, Viktor, while Dobby stood nearby, pointing a finger.

At the faint sound of Disapparition, Hagrid noticed Dumbledore and Snape's arrival.

"Professor!" he said, lowering the crossbow, relief evident in his voice. "How's it over there?"

"Heavy losses," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "And a dozen or so followed Greyback."

Hagrid kicked Viktor angrily. The werewolf whimpered, curling up on the ground, trembling.

"Professor," Snape asked, "are we turning him over to the Ministry?"

"What else?" Dumbledore countered.

"Too lenient," Snape muttered, his eyes flicking to three other werewolves lying on the ground. "But… is this appropriate?"

Dumbledore approached the three, bending to inspect them.

A moment later, he straightened. "They're dead," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, stating a fact.

Then Dumbledore waved his wand.

With a crack, a branch above Snape snapped, crashing onto his shoulder.

He staggered back, rubbing his aching shoulder, and asked, puzzled, "What are you doing, Professor?"

"Taking care of loose ends, Severus," Dumbledore said irritably.

With another wave of his wand, the three werewolves' bodies transformed into ordinary rocks under a Transfiguration spell. The forest soil churned, swallowing the "rocks" deep into the earth.

Branches and leaves rained down, covering all traces.

Viktor, stunned by the scene, bashed his head against the ground, pleading for mercy.

But Dumbledore's wand was already trained on him.

A white flash, and Viktor's eyes took on a strange, dazed look.

"I need you to keep tonight's details confidential," Dumbledore said, turning to Hagrid and Dobby. "All that happened was Greyback and an accomplice attacked, and we captured Viktor. Understood?"

Hagrid nodded heavily; Dobby squeaked, "Dobby will keep the secret, sir!"

"Good," Dumbledore said, his tone softening to its usual warmth. "Hagrid, take Viktor back to the castle and hand him to Minerva. I'll contact the Ministry tomorrow."

Hagrid nodded, roughly hauling the dazed Viktor to his feet and striding toward the castle.

As Dumbledore turned to leave, Snape spoke up. "Wait, Professor. Dobby and I have some business."

The headmaster raised an eyebrow but stepped aside without objection.

Snape let Nagini slither out from his sleeve.

"Engorgio!" he said, pointing at the snake.

Nagini's body swelled rapidly, returning to her twelve-foot length.

She reared up, resting her head on Snape's shoulder, her forked tongue brushing his cheek.

"Dobby," Snape beckoned the house-elf, "come here."

Dobby eyed Nagini fearfully, his tennis-ball-sized eyes wide with terror, but he shuffled closer, trembling.

"Your job is to look after Nagini, this snake," Snape said bluntly. "She's my friend. You'll bring food from Hogwarts' kitchens for her—" He glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded slightly in approval.

"—and you need to talk to her, about anything, just chat," he continued. "Also, if anything seems off with Nagini, come to me immediately. Clear?"

"Y-yes, sir," Dobby stammered, nodding, his eyes darting between Nagini and Snape. "But… why can't Miss Snake stay in the castle?"

"The forest suits her better," Snape said, gently stroking Nagini's head.

He turned to Nagini, hissing softly.

Nagini responded, her head bobbing. Dumbledore watched quietly, his blue eyes glinting with thought.

"She's agreed. I think she likes it here," Snape said to Dobby. "You can get closer, let her learn your scent. She won't hurt you."

Dobby extended a spindly finger, trembling as he touched Nagini's scales. When the snake didn't strike, the elf visibly relaxed.

"Good," Snape said, a faint smile crossing his face. "Dobby, isn't this a tough galleon to earn?"

"It's nothing," Dobby said, shaking his head, his large ears flapping. "Dobby is happy to serve Mr. Snape."

"You don't need to stay with Nagini all day," Snape added. "You'll have your own time."

Dobby nodded again, more at ease. He edged closer to Nagini, introducing himself in his high-pitched voice. Nagini tilted her head curiously, seemingly intrigued by the talkative little creature.

Snape gave Nagini one last look before walking with Dumbledore toward the castle.

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