Harry Potter: I became Snape

"No?" Snape interrupted Mr. Borgin, pulling out his money pouch and giving it a shake.

The clinking of Galleons produced a tempting sound.

"No…" Mr. Borgin said hesitantly, his eyes never leaving the pouch. "Just… one moment, Mr. Longbottom."

With that, he slipped behind the curtain at the back of the counter.

A moment later, Mr. Borgin returned carrying a small box.

"I hope these will meet your needs, Mr. Longbottom," he said, cautiously lifting the lid.

The box was a chaotic jumble of wands, some bearing the marks of crude repairs after cracking, others sporting suspicious dark red stains on their shafts.

"Should I ask where these came from?" Snape said, distastefully picking up a wand. "How much?"

"You have a keen eye, Mr. Longbottom," Mr. Borgin said evasively. "These are all wands recovered through legitimate channels, fully functional. The one you're holding is made of elder wood and unicorn hair, very powerful, only thirty Galleons."

"If it were truly that powerful, it wouldn't be here," Snape sneered, tossing the wand back into the box. "Five Galleons each."

"That's not reasonable, Mr. Longbottom!" Mr. Borgin cried out, sounding aggrieved. "These wands are top-quality goods. Twenty Galleons, my lowest price. You know a wand from Ollivanders costs seventy Galleons—my price is less than a third of that."

"You think your mismatched secondhand goods deserve the price of a custom-made wand?" Snape remained unmoved. "Five Galleons each. I need ten."

Mr. Borgin's face crumpled. "Seven Galleons," he said through gritted teeth. "That's the same price Ollivanders charges young witches and wizards. With all my expenses, I'm already losing money."

Snape thought irritably that this business was undoubtedly built on zero-cost acquisitions—someone else's loss was Borgin's gain. But it didn't matter. The money wasn't an issue.

"Fine," he said. "Seventy Galleons total."

He carefully selected eleven of the better-conditioned wands from the box, taking the one that felt most comfortable in his hand and giving it a test. A pleasant warmth coursed through the wand, resonating subtly with his magic.

"Pack these up for me," he said.

"You've taken one extra…" Mr. Borgin murmured.

"Are you selling or not?" Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Fine," Mr. Borgin swallowed hard. "Let's call it making a friend!"

He pulled out a black leather bag and began packing the wands.

Snape placed seventy-seven Galleons on the counter. While Mr. Borgin packed, he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the surface.

"Mr. Borgin," he said suddenly, "don't you ever deal in bigger transactions?"

"What kind of big transactions?" Mr. Borgin's hands paused.

"Goblin-made silver, for instance," Snape said. Mr. Borgin's eyes lit up immediately.

"Oh, that would indeed be a big deal," he said, lowering his voice. "You know, since the Goblin Rebellion of 1612, hardly any new goblin-made silver has fallen into wizard hands. A single piece is worth at least a thousand Galleons."

Snape was well aware of this. Through the memories of the house-elf Hokey, he had learned that Caractacus Burke once offered five hundred Galleons for a piece of goblin-made armor owned by Hepzibah Smith—and even then, Burke was refused.

"What kind of goblin-made silver are you looking for, Mr. Longbottom?" Mr. Borgin's voice pulled Snape back from his thoughts.

"Weapons," Snape replied curtly.

"For collecting?" Mr. Borgin asked curiously.

"What else?" Snape said impatiently. "What use are they otherwise?"

"They're extremely useful," Mr. Borgin said, sounding slightly offended, as if his expertise had been insulted. "Goblin-forged silver never needs polishing, repels dirt, and absorbs substances that strengthen it."

"Which makes them perfect for collecting, doesn't it?" Snape said sharply. "No need to have a house-elf clean them."

He didn't mind letting Mr. Borgin think he was a wealthy mark. His encounters with Abraxas Malfoy, Fenrir Greyback, and others had confirmed one thing: his strength far exceeded his own expectations.

If he could acquire goblin-made silver through Mr. Borgin, that would be ideal. But if Borgin had any ulterior motives, Snape wouldn't mind earning a bit of extra coin. A thousand Galleons was no small sum, after all.

"Weapons are very rare, sir, and expensive," Mr. Borgin said. "If you're looking for armor, I might be able to find one or two incomplete pieces."

"I've got goblin-made armor at home," Snape said dismissively. "I'm missing weapons."

He picked up the bag of wands, preparing to leave, but Mr. Borgin called out to him.

"If you're truly in need of goblin-made weapons, Mr. Longbottom," Mr. Borgin said, "you might try Knockturn Alley, number 135. A goblin named Felix lives there."

"Noted. Thank you, Mr. Borgin," Snape said with a nod. "If I find satisfactory silver, I'll come back to thank you."

"No need for such courtesy," Mr. Borgin said, bowing politely. "If you're satisfied, Felix will give me a commission."

Snape pushed open the shop door and strode out of Borgin and Burkes, the bell above the door jingling softly.

As he walked deeper into Knockturn Alley, the buildings grew shabbier, their blackened walls scrawled with strange symbols.

Several cloaked figures hurried past, deliberately avoiding each other's gazes. Snape felt a few fleeting glances linger on him, but when his sharp eyes swept over, the onlookers quickly retreated into the shadows.

Number 135 Knockturn Alley was a crooked two-story building, as unremarkable as its neighbors, with peeling paint on its door.

Standing at the entrance, Snape raised his wrist to check the time, only to notice that the watch Eileen had given him as an adulthood gift had changed. The clouds on the dial had turned dark, and the tiny birds were huddled trembling at the bottom.

This was the first time he'd seen the watch's face change.

"Interesting," he muttered, glancing up at the narrow strip of sky. Though Knockturn Alley's streets were shrouded in the shadows of the buildings, the visible patch of sky showed it was still a clear, sunny day.

The watch's change was undoubtedly a warning. A cold smirk curled Snape's lips as he drew his newly purchased wand from his sleeve.

Instead of knocking, he pointed the wand at the rickety wooden door and silently cast a powerful Blasting Curse.

Boom!

A flash of fire erupted, the explosion shaking half the street.

The door shattered, cracks spiderwebbing across the wall, and the entire building seemed to sink slightly.

As startled cries echoed from within, Snape stood at the threshold, shielded by a Protego charm, his wand trained on the source of the noise.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he thought silently.

A goblin with a large head, sallow skin, and long limbs coughed amid the rubble. Before it could react, its legs and arms snapped together, and it pitched forward, face-first, onto the ground with a thud.

Snape quickly turned to scan the street. A few curious heads poked out from nearby windows.

"Anyone want to join the fun?" he asked coldly.

The onlookers shrank back, their windows slamming shut.

After confirming no further threats, Snape cast a Repairing Charm to restore the damaged door. Within seconds, the house resumed its dilapidated but intact appearance.

He approached the fallen goblin, nudging it onto its back with his foot.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Felix," Snape said, looming over the goblin's terrified eyes. "Mr. Borgin sent me. I hear you have goblin-made silver?"

The goblin's nose was broken from the fall, dark green blood trickling to its mouth.

"Oh, your nose is broken," Snape said, frowning. "Episkey!"

A blue light flashed, and the goblin's nose healed.

"See how friendly I am?" Snape glanced at his watch again. The dial now showed clear skies once more.

"It seems you're a bit more cooperative now," he said, tapping his wand lightly. Ropes from a Binding Curse wrapped tightly around the goblin, and he lifted the Petrification Curse.

"You've insulted me!" the goblin shrieked the moment it could speak, its black eyes glaring fiercely. "I won't sell you any silver!"

"Is that so?" Snape dragged over a chair, forcing the goblin to sit, then sat across from it. "So you do have goblin-made silver, then?"

The goblin clamped its mouth shut, refusing to answer.

"Very well, Mr. Felix," Snape sighed, pulling a small vial of purple liquid from his pocket. "Not talking? Allow me to ask you a question—

"Would you prefer to drown, fall from the sky, or…" he shook the potion vial, "be poisoned? Oh, and I have a half-giant friend who loves baking goblins into pies. Interested?"

"Release me!" the goblin struggled, finally speaking. "This is an affront to my race's dignity!"

"It's a bit early for dreaming, Mr. Felix," Snape said with a smile. "Every wizard knows goblins can cast magic without wands."

"Fine, I'll do it myself," he said, raising his wand toward the goblin. "This was for your own good, to avoid scrambling your brain. Legilimens—"

"Wait, sir!" the goblin screeched. "The silver is in the cabinet in the basement!"

"Good, good. Thank you, Mr. Felix. That's more like it," Snape said, lowering his wand. "Where's the basement?"

Reluctantly, the goblin jerked its chin toward a filthy rug.

Snape lifted the rug, tapped the floor beneath, and said, "Aparecium!"

A trapdoor with a pull-ring appeared.

With a gentle tug, a cloud of dust fell, revealing a staircase descending into darkness.

Snape transfigured a chair into a torch, lit it, and levitated Felix ahead of him.

"You're coming with me," he said, ignoring the goblin's protests.

The basement was even more cluttered than upstairs, filled with bizarre objects. The air reeked of mold and oxidized metal.

"The silver's in there," Felix said, pointing to a cabinet in the corner. "Open it and see."

Snape's sharp eyes noticed an animal horn hanging above the cabinet, its base etched with distinct grooves. He'd read about it in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—an Erumpent horn, explosive at the slightest touch.

"It's in there, take it," Felix said eagerly. "Just let me go."

"If that's the case, then do me one more favor and fetch it," Snape said mildly. "With the Imperius Curse's help, I'm sure we'll work together perfectly."

"No!" Felix thrashed in panic. "I'm sorry, sir. You need to remove the curse on the horn first—Finite Incantatem will do—then cut the Acromantula silk connecting the horn to the chest."

"Very good," Snape said, moving Felix closer to the cabinet while positioning himself at the far end of the basement, aiming his wand at the Erumpent horn.

"Careful, sir," Felix said, squirming. "Don't miss."

The spell hit the horn, sending an orange ripple across it, then blue, before it faded.

Snape then severed the nearly invisible silk.

"Phew—" Felix exhaled. "Take it. If you'd pay me, that'd be even better."

"Not so fast, Mr. Felix," Snape said with a smile. "One more favor—Imperio!"

Terror flashed across the goblin's face before it melted into a dreamy, blissful expression.

A strange sensation coursed through Snape's arm, a tingling warmth flowing from his mind, through his muscles and veins, linking him to his wand and the spell.

He pointed his wand at the goblin again, unbinding the ropes. Under his control, Felix obediently walked to the cabinet and opened it.

Next to a few piles of Galleons and some small vials lay a long, slender, shimmering silver dagger. Felix retrieved it and handed it to Snape with deference.

The dagger felt cold at first but quickly warmed, as if adapting to its new owner's touch.

Snape swung the dagger a few times, feeling a pang of disappointment. If he used this against a Basilisk, he wasn't sure how effective it would be. Still, something was better than nothing.

He tucked the dagger into a hidden pocket inside his robe and flashed the goblin a brilliant smile. "Sweet dreams, Mr. Felix. Thank you for your gift."

"Obliviate!"

Felix's eyes went blank and vacant. Then, with a sway, he collapsed, unconscious.

Snape counted out five hundred Galleons and scattered them around Felix.

I'm such a good person, he thought, wondering if Felix would still pay Mr. Borgin his commission.

————

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