Harry Potter: I became Snape

The ceiling of the Great Hall was weighed down by heavy clouds, rain trickling along the transparent veins of the enchanted sky.

"Owls incoming!" someone shouted.

A flurry of wings echoed through the hall as owls swooped through the rain-splattered windows. Water droplets shook free from their feathers, sprinkling onto students' heads and their breakfast plates.

The owls circled the tables, searching for their recipients, dropping letters and packages onto laps or tabletops.

Severus Snape instinctively raised an arm to shield himself, only to see a grey owl barreling straight toward him, clutching a large, square package in its talons.

The parcel looked heavy, and the owl nearly lost its balance at the last moment.

With a thud, the package landed between the jam dish and sugar bowl in front of him, rattling the silver fork against the porcelain plate with a sharp clink.

"What'd you buy?" Patrick Abbott whistled. "A brick?"

Snape ignored the jibe. The parchment wrapping was damp from the rain, but the wax seal remained intact—a crest belonging to Potions Master Monthly.

Unwrapping it revealed a thick, glossy issue of the journal. The headline on the cover blared: The Complete Wolfsbane Potion Formula and Its Clinical Applications.

Snape's eyes flicked up, cutting through the noisy hall to the Gryffindor table.

Halfway down the Gryffindor bench, Lily Evans lifted her head from an identical journal. Her emerald eyes sparkled as they met his, spotting the same magazine in his hands.

Their gazes locked across the room, and they shared a fleeting smile.

Not far from Lily, James Potter's hand trembled around his fork. Sirius Black followed his line of sight and snorted softly. "Ignore them, James."

"Shut up, Sirius," James growled, his voice low and dangerous, a shadow of something darker than Sirius had ever seen flickering in his eyes.

Oblivious to the tension, Snape lowered his head, eagerly flipping open the journal.

He skimmed the table of contents. This issue of Potions Master Monthly was nearly twice as thick as usual, and when he reached the section on the Wolfsbane Potion, he understood why.

The opening article was a lengthy introduction by Damocles, written in an almost menacing tone about the potion's complexity:

"…Readers must be warned: the Wolfsbane Potion is not for amateurs to attempt lightly. Its core ingredient, aconite—or, as I prefer, wolfsbane, a far more fitting name—possesses extreme toxicity…"

"…Incorrect temperature control, the addition of common additives like sugar, or other errors will render the potion useless, resulting in significant waste… I strongly recommend that those in need contact me directly to purchase the finished potion. This is far more practical and economical…"

Snape's lip curled. From what he knew, most werewolves lived on society's fringes, unable to afford the cost of a finished potion.

He flipped to the page marked "Continued on page 67," studying the full formula and brewing process. The back half of the journal was entirely dedicated to the intricacies of crafting the Wolfsbane Potion.

"Look at step three," he said, pointing at the page as he turned to Pandora. "It says, 'Add three drops of dragon's blood.' What's next?"

Pandora squinted, pulling the journal closer. "It recommends using the blood of an Australian Opaleye. Other dragon breeds may reduce efficacy… That's not cheap."

"Exactly," Snape said, mentally tallying the cost of ingredients. "Not something the average household can afford."

After a quick skim, he was certain: brewing the Wolfsbane Potion was no simple task. Not only was it exorbitantly expensive, but the process was maddeningly complex.

Aconite, long dismissed as a useless poison, required meticulous handling to neutralize its toxic properties.

The secondary ingredients—dragon's blood, moonstone powder, erumpent egg, mandrake sap, and more—were not only rare and costly but demanded specific qualities.

Worse, the instructions were riddled with vague terms like "two leaves," "three drops," or "medium heat."

"No wonder Damocles published the full formula," Snape muttered to Pandora, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "How many wizards could actually brew this? It's like a Muggle recipe calling for 'a pinch of salt' or 'a dash of vinegar.'"

Relying on trial and error to perfect the potion would bankrupt most wizards, and with such a limited market, there was little commercial value. Unless, Snape thought, he could standardize the process or find substitute ingredients…

After breakfast, Potions class loomed. Snape stuffed the journal into his bag and headed to the dungeon classroom.

The air in the underground room was thick with the mingled scents of various potions. Snape deftly pressed the flat of his silver knife against a sopophorous bean, but his ears caught snippets of conversation from the other side of the room—Lily talking with Mary.

"The toxicity of wolfsbane is too unstable," Lily's voice carried. "According to Golpalott's Fourth Law, the secondary ingredients should…"

When the bell rang, Snape packed his equipment with unusual speed.

He pulled Potions Master Monthly from his bag and leaned toward Patrick and Pandora. "Go on without me. I've got questions about the Wolfsbane Potion for Professor Slughorn."

Pandora and Patrick exchanged a knowing glance, nodded, and left.

Snape approached the teacher's desk, noticing Lily moving in the same direction, her own copy of the journal in hand.

Their eyes met again, and Lily gave him a quick wink.

Slughorn was busy locking away a few precious vials in a cabinet. When he turned and saw Snape approaching, a flicker of panic crossed his face.

"What's this, Severus?" he asked, clutching his chest with exaggerated alarm.

"Professor, it's about the Wolfsbane Potion in Potions Master Monthly," Snape said, ignoring the professor's theatrics.

"Oh, that!" Slughorn exhaled, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "I thought you'd come up with another terrifying discovery…"

Lily stepped forward, opening her journal and pointing to a page. "Professor, look here. Adding dragon's blood as a secondary ingredient should enhance the potion's potency, but that conflicts with the principle that additives must not clash with the primary ingredient…"

"Miss Evans!" Slughorn gaped at her. "You've studied Golpalott's Fifth Law already?"

The three dove into an animated discussion. Snape highlighted the challenges of temperature control, Lily questioned certain ingredient ratios, and Slughorn offered adjustments for rare materials.

As other students filed out, James lingered at the classroom door, his gaze dark as he watched the scene. His fist clenched and unclenched, emotions swirling in his eyes.

"Come on, James," Sirius said, tugging his arm. Remus placed a hand on James's back, and together they pulled him out.

"…The key lies in mastering each step through experience," Snape concluded, his finger tracing a dense paragraph in the journal. "Drying, grinding, brewing, quantities—everything needs precise calibration."

Lily bit her lip, thinking. "But achieving that level of precision is nearly impossible…"

"Muggle lab equipment," Snape said suddenly, drawing startled looks from both Lily and Slughorn. "Measuring cups, pipettes, mechanical scales—electronics won't work at Hogwarts, but old-fashioned mechanical tools will. Thermometers, timers…"

"Severus, that's brilliant!" Lily's eyes widened, and she slapped the journal, producing a muffled thud. "I used those in primary school!"

"An obvious solution," Snape said with a shrug. Little wizards arrived at Hogwarts at eleven, missing most Muggle scientific education. But he, a product of nine years of compulsory schooling, hadn't.

"My dear children," Slughorn said, looking skeptical, "potion-making is a magical art. How much help could Muggle… er… toys possibly offer?"

"Precision, Professor," Lily replied instantly. "If it's as difficult as Damocles claims, eyeballing the number of bubbles in a cauldron isn't enough to gauge temperature."

"But," Slughorn continued, "the Ministry bans the use of Muggle items."

Lily froze, clearly caught off guard.

"Professor," Snape said calmly, "I've discussed this with Arthur Weasley from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. The Ministry only prohibits enchanting Muggle objects. Using them as-is is perfectly legal."

"Well," Slughorn said, rubbing his round belly as his expression softened, "that might just work…"

"We'd need to borrow your lab, Professor," Lily added. "And some ingredients."

"If Dumbledore approves, I can lend you the lab," Slughorn said, his face clouding with concern. "But ingredients? I'm just a humble teacher. Aconite's up to twenty Galleons an ounce now, not to mention dragon's blood, moonstone powder, erumpent eggs…"

"I'll talk to Professor Dumbledore," Lily said promptly. "I think he'll be interested."

"I'll go with you," Snape added. "I need to leave the grounds to buy Muggle lab equipment anyway."

As they left the dungeon and reached the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office, Lily froze. "Oh no, I don't know the password…"

Snape, however, was already chatting with the gargoyle.

"Is the Headmaster in?" he asked, his tone as casual as if greeting an old friend.

"I reckon Albus is napping," the gargoyle replied, its eyes swiveling. "Still not considering moving in here?"

"No thanks," Snape said. "As a young, dashing man, living with an old codger isn't my idea of fun."

"Terrible prejudice," the gargoyle muttered. "You're practically here all the time anyway… Password?"

"Toffee Éclairs," Snape said.

The gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the spiral staircase.

"How'd you know the password?" Lily asked, mouth agape.

"Dumbledore often has questions to ask me," Snape said. "Come on, let's go."

The staircase carried them to the wooden door.

Lily raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open on its own. Dumbledore, wearing a starry nightcap, was dozing behind his desk.

At their footsteps, he looked up, smiling gently. "Ah, Severus, Lily. What brings you here?"

"The Wolfsbane Potion," Lily said. "Professor, we'd like your support."

For the next ten minutes, they took turns explaining their plan and needs.

Dumbledore listened intently, his long fingers steepled.

"A very forward-thinking idea," he said when Snape mentioned Muggle equipment. "The blend of magic and non-magic can yield surprising results." He turned to Lily. "As for funding, I can personally support you to an extent. Use it sparingly."

"If we can streamline the process or stabilize production," Lily said, nodding, "it could help werewolves live more normal lives…"

"Lily," Snape cut in, "even if we succeed, we can't publish the results yet. Werewolves gaining control isn't necessarily good for us."

"You mean…" Lily frowned, then her eyes widened in realization. "They could be enemies…"

Dumbledore chuckled approvingly.

"To prevent misuse," he said, "your findings must remain confidential. I'll speak with Horace about it."

Finally, Dumbledore gave Snape an odd incantation: "Tap the chain lock at the school gates once, and it'll open…"

Meanwhile, by the Black Lake, the Marauders' mood was as heavy as the water's surface.

James mechanically hurled stones into the lake, each throw fueled by raw force.

"Find another girl, James," Sirius said, grabbing his wrist after the tenth stone, something unreadable in his grey eyes. "You don't have to hang yourself on one tree—"

"No," James snapped, yanking his hand free and flinging another stone with suppressed fury. "No one's like her."

"I think Sirius has a point, James," Remus said, his tattered robes flapping in the wind, his face paler than usual. "Sometimes it's okay to let go of the impossible."

James whirled around, the stone in his hand crunching as he gripped it. "All I know is I'm the only one who deserves her. What's that greasy git got?"

Peter shrank back, his eyes darting nervously between the three.

The lake's surface stilled, reflecting their silent figures.

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