Harry Potter: I became Snape

As they reached the eighth hole, the Japanese man wandered into the woods...

Severus Snape recounted the tale vividly, and Vernon roared with laughter, slapping the table so hard that the wine glasses clinked. His broad hand—

"Good heavens!" Vernon wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, his voice breaking with chuckles. "You wizards… haha… you're a riot! I've got to tell this one to the lads at the office."

"Go right ahead," Snape said slowly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Perhaps you could share it with your business partners when you're promoted to senior executive." He paused, his mouth curling slightly. "Yes, I believe you're destined for it."

Vernon's chest puffed out with pride, as if he could already see himself seated in the executive office.

As Vernon launched into an enthusiastic monologue about his drill sales figures, Snape picked up his fork and gingerly prodded the small, unblinking fish on his plate. Its lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling, as if questioning the cruel fate that had brought it here.

He lifted a piece of pastry to his mouth, then raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"The taste… it's unexpectedly edible," Snape remarked cautiously. "Almost like a fish pie."

"Oh, really? I've never quite taken to it," Vernon said with a dismissive wave, his attention wholly consumed by visions of his business triumphs as he animatedly described how he'd outmaneuver his competitors next quarter.

"Your car is impressive, Mr. Dursley," Snape said, abruptly shifting the topic as his gaze drifted to the window, where a gleaming black sedan sat outside. "A new Ford model?"

Vernon's words halted mid-sentence, his face lighting up.

"You know cars?" he asked eagerly, leaning forward. "Spot on! Picked it up last month—cost me half a year's bonus!" He launched into a detailed spiel about engine specs and torque, spittle flecking the tablecloth.

Snape nodded at just the right moments, feigning perfect interest while mentally calculating the time.

He noticed Petunia's expression softening, her tense shoulders relaxing as she gazed at her fiancé with a tender smile.

After three rounds of drinks, Vernon's face was as red as the strawberry jam on the table. He suddenly reached out with a meaty arm and clapped Snape heavily on the shoulder.

"Severus," he slurred, "I thought you'd be… well, weirder. But you're actually a normal bloke!"

At his words, Petunia pinched his arm.

"Vernon!" she hissed under her breath.

But Snape only smiled faintly. "It's alright, Petunia," he said, deliberately using her first name. "Mr. Dursley's merely voicing what most people would think."

Petunia's lips pressed into a thin line, her gray-brown eyes flickering with complex emotions. After a moment's hesitation, she spoke. "I just… I never imagined you'd be like this, after all these years."

"People change for all sorts of reasons," Snape said with a smile. "I hope I'm not as insufferable as you remember."

Petunia was silent for a moment, then gave a small nod.

Vernon glanced between them, eyes wide. "Hold on, you two know each other?"

"Yes," Snape said calmly. "We met when we were about ten. We lived near each other back then."

"Well, that's a stroke of fate!" Vernon raised his glass and took a hearty gulp. "First time I've met folks like you—wizards, I mean. You don't seem all that scary."

"I should offer a small warning, Petunia, Mr. Dursley," Snape said, his expression suddenly grave as he set down his glass and looked at Petunia. "Not every wizard is as… congenial as I am."

"You'd do well to avoid contact with them, though I trust you wouldn't seek them out. If anything comes up, you can write to me." He added, "Petunia, you know how to send a letter to the school."

Petunia's face paled.

Snape knew what she was thinking—that letter to Dumbledore, the rejected plea for admission, the dream that could never be.

He raised his glass, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Let the past stay in the past."

Petunia's fingers trembled slightly, clutching her napkin.

But in the end, she lifted her glass, clinking it gently against his and taking a small sip.

Vernon looked between them, puzzled.

"When are you two getting married?" Snape asked suddenly. "I recall you're engaged."

"This Christmas," Vernon announced proudly. "We've booked the church."

"Congratulations!" Snape said sincerely. "I wish you all the best."

Vernon and Petunia exchanged a glance. Petunia gave a barely perceptible nod, and Vernon said warmly, "Thanks, mate. If you're free, you're welcome to come to the wedding."

"Are you sure?" Snape said. "I'd be delighted to attend." Inwardly, he was already pondering what gift would be appropriately non-magical.

As the conversation flowed, Snape's peripheral vision caught a familiar, ugly face outside the restaurant window—Dobby, the house-elf.

Those tennis-ball-sized eyes blinked frantically, long ears twitching with nerves.

The elf was wildly gesticulating, first wriggling his hands like snakes, then clapping them together, mimicking something.

"Dobby?" Snape's lips moved silently, his heart sinking.

Dobby grew more agitated, pointing north, clapping his hands again, then pointing at himself, his expression so desperate he seemed on the verge of tears.

Snape's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Given Dobby's peculiar logic, he genuinely feared the elf might burst in and do something bizarre, turning this pleasant dinner into a farce.

He swiftly drew his wand under the table, conjuring a small piece of parchment and scribbling, "Dobby, don't do anything. Wait outside. I'll be out soon."

With a flick of his wand, the parchment floated to the window. Dobby glanced at it, nodded at Snape, and scurried away.

Snape exhaled in relief—he'd been genuinely terrified that the uneaten stargazy pie might levitate and, with a snap of Dobby's fingers, crash onto Petunia or Vernon's head.

"What's wrong?" Petunia asked, noticing Snape's suddenly tense expression.

"Nothing," Snape said, forcing a smile. "I'm just thrilled to see you both."

Vernon guffawed. "Glad to meet you too!"

"Sorry," Snape said, glancing at his watch with feigned surprise. "It's getting late. I should head back to school."

When the bill came, Vernon insisted on paying, and Snape didn't protest—he needed to leave quickly.

At the restaurant door, Vernon asked eagerly, "Where's your school? Want a lift?"

"Thank you, but no," Snape said, shaking his head. "You go on. I'll get back the wizard way."

After helping Petunia bundle Vernon into the back seat, she stood up, nodded at Snape, and got into the driver's seat.

As the Dursleys' black sedan drove off, Snape turned to the shadows. "Dobby, come out."

Dobby's eyes gleamed in the dark. "Mr. Snape, sir, Dobby had to find you—Miss Snake, she—"

"What's wrong with Nagini?" Snape asked.

"Miss Snake doesn't know Dobby anymore!" The elf's large eyes were filled with fear. "She looked at Dobby today so strangely, like… like a beast eyeing prey. When Dobby brought her food, she lunged to bite him. Dobby dodged and came straight to you, sir."

Was Nagini's blood curse worsening? It was exactly what Snape had dreaded. He grabbed the elf's hand. "Take me to her. Now!"

With a loud crack, they appeared deep in the Forbidden Forest. Darkness cloaked the surroundings like a heavy curtain, with only the light from Snape's wand illuminating a small patch.

He raised his wand, scanning for Nagini's trail.

But she was gone. Only clear snake tracks remained, slithering deeper into the forest's darker reaches.

"Miss Snake went that way!" Dobby pointed into the depths. "Dobby heard noises over there."

Snape followed the tracks swiftly, Dobby trailing close behind. His robes tore on the underbrush, but he paid no mind.

Nagini's curse was worsening… he thought grimly. From what he knew, the curse would gradually strip away her human essence, reducing her to a beast.

He'd hoped that human food and Dobby's companionship—talking to her—might slow her decline. But her condition was sliding further into darkness.

Suddenly, the distant whinny of a horse and the twang of arrows pierced the air. Snape sprinted toward the sound.

"Damn it!" He burst into a clearing, the sight before him stealing his breath—

Nagini's massive coils were wrapped around a fallen centaur, her jaws gaping to strike. Three other centaurs aimed arrows at her.

A broken arrow was lodged in her back, dark blood dripping down her scales. The trapped centaur, pale and struggling weakly, was barely conscious.

"Stop!" Snape shouted, firing a Blasting Curse into the air.

With a thunderous boom, the centaurs reared in shock, their arrows turning toward the sudden intruder.

Dobby bravely stepped in front of Snape, shrieking, "Don't hurt Mr. Snape!" His magic sent several centaurs sprawling.

Snape cast a Shield Charm against the rain of arrows, rushing to the center of the clearing. In Parseltongue, he hissed, "Let him go, Nagini. Come here."

The giant snake froze. She slowly turned, her green slit-pupils glinting with alien ferocity.

She hissed threateningly at Snape, her venomous fangs gleaming.

Seeing their attacks ineffective, the centaurs lowered their bows and helped their fallen comrade.

"Nagini, it's me," Snape continued in Parseltongue. "Remember the forests of Albania? Come to me."

The snake's tail twitched, her grip loosening slightly.

Seizing the moment, Snape stepped forward slowly.

"Mr. Snape, it's dangerous!" Dobby cried.

But Snape didn't stop. He reached Nagini and gently touched her scales.

"Let me see your wound," he hissed.

Nagini finally released the unconscious centaur, slithering to Snape's side. He immediately checked her injury, pulling dittany and a pain-relieving potion from his robes.

"Good girl," he said softly, then caught himself—Nagini was likely older than his grandmother. "This might sting."

Shaking his head, he carefully applied the potion around the arrow wound, then used a Severing Charm to precisely cut the surrounding flesh. Nagini writhed in pain but didn't strike.

He swiftly pulled out the arrow. Nagini let out a sharp hiss. Snape poured dittany on the wound and began chanting a healing spell, silver light streaming from his wand. The wound closed visibly, and Nagini's breathing steadied.

Only then did Snape turn to the wary centaurs circling them.

The lead centaur stepped forward, his chestnut mane glinting in the moonlight.

"Wizard," he said, "this snake trespassed on our lands and attacked Bane."

Snape took a deep breath and faced the centaur, his tone apologetic.

"I'm sorry for what happened tonight. My companion, Nagini, is ill, plagued by a vicious curse that's eroding her mind.

"Her actions weren't meant to invade your territory or harm your kin—they were instincts she couldn't control. I apologize for the fear and injury caused to Bane."

Snape inclined his head, casting a healing spell on the still-weak Bane as the other centaurs helped him up.

The lead centaur studied Snape, his eyes deep as the night sky. "Wizard, we hear your apology. But your 'companion,'" his voice carried an eerie fatalism, "is not merely ill. The stars clearly proclaim it: she is darkness incarnate, a cursed being. Her very existence taints the balance. She must be purified."

"Purified?" Snape's brows knit, his voice turning cold.

"Yes!" A younger centaur reared, hooves pawing the air, arrow aimed at Nagini. "Magorian speaks true. From the moment we saw her, the starlight dimmed. She's a harbinger of calamity, a servant of darkness. For the forest's peace, for the purity the stars decree, she must be destroyed!"

"Exactly," another centaur with high cheekbones growled. "It's our duty to uphold nature's order and purge corruption. An apology doesn't change her nature."

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