Harry Potter: I became Snape

After leaving Felix's small house, Severus Snape wound his way through the twisting alleys, emerging into the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley.

He had one final errand to complete—purchasing Muggle laboratory equipment.

The Leaky Cauldron was, as usual, packed with a motley assortment of witches and wizards.

"I need a single room for the night, Tom," Snape said, approaching the bar and addressing the gaunt, toothless innkeeper. "Just for one night."

His voice was slightly higher than he'd intended—the Aging Potion was slowly wearing off, his vocal cords reverting to their seventeen-year-old state.

"Room 11's free, sir," Tom replied, glancing up and turning to pluck a key from the wall. "One Galleon. I reckon you'll find it comfortable enough."

After paying, Snape took the key and strode toward the passageway beside the bar. He navigated a narrow corridor with peeling wallpaper, climbed a creaking wooden staircase, and arrived at a door marked with a brass number 11.

Opening the door, he found the room better than expected: a seemingly comfortable bed, a few polished oak furnishings, and even a small fireplace.

Closing the door, Snape flicked his wand at the hearth, and a crackling fire sprang to life in the grate.

He shed his robes and sank onto the bed, settling in with a sigh.

Outside, London's sky was shifting rapidly, from a velvety deep blue to a cold, somber gray.

He closed his eyes, feeling the Aging Potion's effects fade. It was an odd sensation—his bones subtly contracting, muscles tightening anew, and a tingling prickling across his scalp.

Half an hour later, he sat up and approached the mirror on the wall. The seventeen-year-old Severus Snape stared back.

"Excellent," he muttered to himself. "Now for the Muggle world."

From a small bag charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm, he pulled out Muggle clothing: dark jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a black jacket.

Once dressed, he draped a robe and hood over the ensemble, ensuring his wand was securely tucked into his jacket sleeve.

Descending the stairs, he caught Tom's cloudy eyes giving him a puzzled glance, though the innkeeper said nothing.

Pushing open the pub's small door, Snape stepped onto Charing Cross Road. He swiftly removed his robe and hood, stuffing them into his bag, and merged into the bustle of the Muggle world.

Charing Cross Road was lined with shops and teeming with people. It was an utterly ordinary street, filled with ordinary folk, with no hint of anything mysterious or strange.

In 1977 London, no one spared a second glance for a lanky, plainly dressed teenager.

Snape wandered aimlessly along the street, passing bookstores, record shops, burger joints, fish-and-chip stands, and a cinema. He wasn't sure where to find laboratory equipment, but there was no rush.

"If magic didn't exist, this place would have decades of peace and prosperity ahead," Snape thought, watching a mother push a pram past him and a young couple stroll hand-in-hand into the cinema.

Sleek cars lined the roadside.

After passing a cinema adorned with posters of James Bond and a glamorous Bond girl, Snape spotted his target: a shop with a sign reading "Scientific Laboratory Supplies (SLS)." The window displayed an array of glassware and metal instruments.

"This is it," Snape said, pushing open the door, which chimed with a crisp bell.

The shop's interior was far larger than it appeared from outside, with rows of shelves stocked with instruments Snape couldn't name. A middle-aged clerk with thick glasses looked up from behind the counter.

"Hello, young man. Can I help you with anything?"

"Yes, I need some laboratory equipment," Snape said, striving to sound like an ordinary student. "A mechanical scale, thermometer, and timer."

"We've got all of those," the clerk replied, pushing up his glasses with enthusiasm. "Have you considered our latest electronic scale? It's far more precise than a mechanical one."

"No, a mechanical scale will do," Snape insisted. Magic and electronics rarely got along.

The clerk nodded and turned to fetch the items from the shelves.

"Anything else you need, sir?"

"Measuring flasks of various sizes," Snape said, scanning the shelf labels and rattling off terms haltingly. "Kjeldahl flasks, Griffin beakers, conical flasks, a 5000-milliliter round-bottom flask, and some laboratory safety gear."

"Young man," the clerk paused, eyeing him warily, "why do you need all this? Who sent you to buy these?"

"For experiments," Snape said, feigning calm. "Er—our school's chemistry teacher told me to get them."

"What's your chemistry teacher's name? Which school?" the clerk pressed, his hand inching toward a telephone under the counter.

Snape's mind raced. He grabbed a blank sheet of paper from the counter, subtly sliding his wand from his sleeve.

"My chemistry teacher's name is Heisenberg," he said, inventing a name on the spot while handing the paper to the clerk. "Here, take a look at this. It'll make everything clear. My purchase is perfectly reasonable and legal."

As the clerk lowered his eyes to the paper, Snape swiftly waved his wand, silently casting a Confundus Charm.

The clerk's gaze flickered briefly before refocusing. He studied the blank paper for a moment, then nodded.

"Seems to be in order," he said calmly, returning the paper to Snape. "I'll get what you need."

Ten minutes later, the clerk handed Snape a large cardboard box filled with glassware.

Snape took the box, carefully reinforcing it with a discreet charm before tucking it into his bag.

"Thank you," Snape said. "How much?"

The clerk, still slightly dazed, quoted a price and absently accepted the pounds Snape handed over.

Long after Snape left the shop, the clerk stared blankly at the cash in his hand, unable to recall what had just happened.

As Snape passed the fish-and-chip shop, a sleek black car parked by the curb caught his eye.

Moments earlier, it had been empty. Now, two familiar figures sat inside—Petunia Evans and the burly young man he'd met in Cokeworth, Vernon Dursley—two people far more ordinary than the street itself.

"What are they doing here?" Snape's curiosity got the better of him. He glanced around to ensure no Muggles were watching, then slipped into a corner and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself.

He approached the car silently.

The scene inside was clear: Vernon was enthusiastically waving a fried sausage, while Petunia looked preoccupied.

"Petunia, wasn't The Spy Who Loved Me just brilliant?" Vernon boomed.

"Yes, dear," Petunia replied, but her eyes were fixed anxiously on a point outside the window, barely touching the fish and chips on the tray before her.

"That underwater city was spectacular," Vernon continued, undeterred. "Mind you, I'd never want to get mixed up in anything that wild. I just want us to live a nice, ordinary life…"

Hearing Vernon's vision, Petunia seemed to steel herself, interrupting him. "Vernon, there's something I need to tell you. Please don't be angry."

"What is it, dear?" Vernon's tone softened instantly. "Why would I be angry with you?"

Petunia seemed touched, opening her mouth, then closing it again.

"Vernon," she took a deep breath, "you met my sister in Cokeworth."

"Yes, I remember her," Vernon said, his expression turning puzzled. "What about her?"

"My sister, Lily…" Petunia's voice dropped to a near whisper, "she's a witch. She's at a school where they teach magic."

"A witch? Magic?" Vernon's voice rose in shock. "Dear, do you mean those words the way I think you do?"

Petunia gave a small nod.

"Oh… darling," Vernon stammered, "how can she be a witch? Are you serious?"

"I didn't mean to hide it from you…" Tears welled in Petunia's eyes. "I was just afraid you'd leave me if you knew…"

Snape held his breath, waiting for Vernon's reaction. How would he respond to this bombshell?

To his surprise, Vernon fell silent for only a few seconds before awkwardly reaching out to wipe the tears from Petunia's face.

"I'd never blame or distance myself from you because you have a freak of a sister," he said, pausing as if searching for the right words, then speaking solemnly. "You'll always be my… my little Petunia."

Petunia threw herself into Vernon's arms, nearly knocking him into the steering wheel. His sausage fell onto the car mat, but he didn't seem to care, gently patting her back and murmuring comforts.

After a while, Petunia calmed down, wiping her tears. "Thank you, dear."

"My pleasure," Vernon said with a cheerful grin.

Watching this, Snape felt as if he were glowing even under the Disillusionment Charm.

He stepped back, moving to the car's blind spot to lift the charm, then approached as if he'd just noticed them.

"Petunia, Mr. Dursley, what a coincidence," Snape said in his most neutral tone. "Are you both well?"

Vernon tensed visibly at the sight of Snape, leaning toward Petunia to whisper, "This is your sister's friend, right? We met him before. Is he also—?"

"A wizard," Petunia whispered back, eyeing Snape warily before raising her voice. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at school."

"Just out for a stroll. Saw you and thought I'd say hello," Snape said with a shrug, watching Vernon's reaction. The man looked both confused and curious, like someone facing an unknown beast.

Then Vernon did something that stunned Snape.

He leaned out and said, "Mr. Snape, would you like to join us for dinner?"

"What? Dinner? Me? With you?" Snape stammered, a rare occurrence. He glanced at Petunia, whose eyes were wide with equal shock.

"Yes," Vernon said, squeezing Petunia's hand reassuringly. "There's a nice restaurant nearby. Got time?"

"Er… sure," Snape said, scratching his head in bewilderment.

"Well then," Vernon said, "hop in."

Snape, feeling oddly flattered, opened the car door and climbed in. He even began to wonder if Vernon had been replaced by an impostor.

Settling into the back seat of Vernon's car, Snape felt as if he'd stepped into an entirely foreign world.

The car smelled of leather and cologne, and the radio played Nick Lucas's Tiptoe Through the Tulips, a song from decades past.

Through the window, he saw London's sky turning a pink streaked with golden light, strikingly beautiful.

The restaurant Vernon chose was far more upscale than Snape had expected. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light from the ceiling, and white tablecloths gleamed with polished silverware. Vernon was clearly a regular; a waiter promptly led them to a quiet corner table.

"Fish and chips, steak and kidney pie, Yorkshire pudding…" Vernon ordered confidently, then looked at Snape. "Mr. Snape, anything you'd like?"

"Spotted dick?" Snape ventured, naming a dish he'd never seen in person.

At the mention, Vernon gave Snape a meaningful look but merely nodded. "Add a spotted dick," he told the waiter.

The waiter brought a bottle of sparkling wine, pouring half a glass for each.

Once the waiter left, Vernon took a large gulp and fixed Snape with a direct stare. "Petunia just told me you're a…"

"Wizard?" Snape finished for him. "What of it, Mr. Dursley?"

"What's so special about you?" Vernon's tone hardened, his thickly haired forearm tensing as he placed a protective hand in front of Petunia. "I mean, how do you prove it?"

Snape's lips twitched upward. "Watch your glass."

He slipped his hand under the table, wand tip peeking from his sleeve, and pointed it at Vernon's half-empty glass, casting a silent Refilling Charm.

The glass filled instantly, bubbles rising merrily in the golden liquid.

Vernon's jaw nearly hit the table. He rubbed his eyes, staring from the glass to Snape and back, then shakily lifted it, sniffing deeply as the rich aroma filled his senses.

"Don't drink it!" Petunia suddenly grabbed the glass from Vernon's hand, setting it down. "Who knows what's in there now?"

"It's just wine, Miss Evans," Snape said, taking a large sip from his own glass, refilling it with magic, and drinking again. "See? Perfectly safe."

"Petunia," Vernon's expression shifted from shock to a strange fascination, "I thought your sister was just an ordinary freak, but—"

Petunia's lips tightened, her eyes a mix of worry and sadness as she looked at Vernon.

"It's alright, Petunia," Vernon said, taking her hand. "I'd never hold it against you for having an extraordinary freak of a sister."

Petunia threw herself into Vernon's arms again, crying harder this time.

Snape watched the pair, feeling the wine lose its flavor and his appetite wane. He seemed a bit out of place.

He stared at his glass, pondering Vernon's odd behavior. Why did tonight's events clash with the man's usual disdain for magic?

The waiter began serving the food, and Snape cleared his throat lightly.

Vernon and Petunia sheepishly disentangled, and the three began eating in an odd silence.

"Mr. Snape," Vernon shifted his bulky frame, breaking the quiet. He pulled a twenty-pound note featuring Queen Elizabeth II from his wallet. "Can you make more of these?"

Snape finally understood Vernon's behavior. "Unfortunately," he shook his head, "that's illegal."

"Oh, you lot have laws too," Vernon said, looking both disappointed and relieved. "Should've figured. Otherwise, you'd have taken over the world by now…"

"But thank you for the hospitality, Mr. Dursley," Snape said. "I've got a joke about a Japanese golfer I think you'll enjoy…"

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