#powerful severus snape

[kheta]

The Life and Adventures of Severus Snape an Unwilling Isekai Protagonist

(TW: Death, suicide, mutilation, depression, torture.)

Basically just me putting Snape through Pain for about 5000 words.

Severus dies at 29 in his first life. Youngest Triple Master in all of Great Britain, right hand man to the Dark Lord himself, a legend to all but himself. They win the war, he kills Potter in their final skirmish against the Order, Dumbledore keeling over at Bella’s hyena-like screech and Lily laying in the dirt as she had for over five months now. The war is not the glory that had been touted through his school boy days. Instead Severus has the murder of an eight year old on his hands, a mercy kill perhaps, but one that has left him nauseous all the same.

Children were supposed to be protected, it was why he had followed Cyrus to this hellscape, why he had divested himself of his very soul, rotted to coal as it was. Death Eaters originally had a purpose, to protect the traditions of their ancestors, to protect all magical children from the uncouth Muggles who existed only to destabilise their communities.

But they had not protected anyone in their quest for glory. Cissy can no longer look at him, not when he stood there as their Lord, their Leader created a shell of her husband. Cissy refuses to look at him, Draco his godson, now forever cursed with scars from a bout of curiosity that laid him before the Dark Lord’s feet.

Indeed few had left the war unscathed. The turncoat Pettigrew dead in a fool-hardy Gryffindor act of courage, saving whatever remained of that infectious mutt. Avery and Evan, felled by some two-bit Auror. Andromeda the blood traitor, leaving behind an orphan child to be raised by Bella and her ilk. Nose-turned Tuney who used to make Severus and Lily cakes for their birthday each year until their fourteenth, dead only because her Brother-in-law had continued displeasing the Dark Lord. And him, morose and tainted and dark, alone at the shambles in Ends he called home.

There was no glory in bloodshed, no glory in the tainting of his soul. So it stands to reason that there is no glory in his death. He mumbles the killing curse as he has been doing since his sixteenth and greets death with the relief of a sorely missed friend.

This was not the end for Severus Snape.

He wakes warm, dark eyes flashing at him. To a crowd laughing at his humiliation.

Severus apologises to Lily in this lifetime. A whole flurry of nights spent looming outside her common room, waiting for a chance to see her whole. To see her alive. She does not accept, so he rids himself of her, falling back to Cyrus’ side.

He tries harder this time round, drops his DADA and Herbology Masteries so he can see the Death Eaters to their prosperous future. Reminds his friends of the true cause, to protect the future of magical Britain.

It works, for a while. Wilkes never betrays them, Cyrus lives on past Macdonald’s death. Bella never meets the Prewetts, does not lose herself to madness in the wake of Rastaban’s death and Rodolphus’ tightly-wound anger.

It is not enough. Evan dies, taking down as many Aurors as he can. Regulus disappears one day and the resulting snap of his lost magic against Black wards has Bellatrix seeking vengeance at every corner, honing her crucio into perfection.

Their cause crumbles once more, sooner this time around as Severus hears of a cursed prophecy that steers their forces towards children.

In this life, Severus reaches 38, almost ten years older than the last. The casualties in the first war is many and varied, Evan and Avery both still felled in battle. Tuney lives, as does Harry, the bitter reminder of fruitless glory. Lucius coos over his son as he grows, arrogant yet brilliant, a cocky head of blonde hair and soft questions at his godfather.

Bellatrix becomes a cackling madwoman, gone is the snide, rude friend-of-a-friend who would indulge him in battle and wine, leaving behind a cruel shade of the brilliant, loyal witch she was.

Seventeen years he spends protecting the life of a child who he has killed once already, just to sheperd him towards another death.

He knows not what happens to Harry Potter, only that the last thing he sees are eyes that glimmer in a harshly familiar way.

Again he is awakened, bereft of his clothing, a marionette strung up in the air.

He dies too young in his third life, all of twenty, wanting for too much. Playing hands too boldly.

Lily accepts his apologies in this lifetime, accepts him as he shoulders the blame for two lifetimes worth of mistakes. Accepts his humility even as he continues to scheme.

He loves Lily. But he loves Cyrus just as much. The cause for Death Eaters may well fall too soon, may be instead the reason for vitirol hate, but all the same these people who walk in the shadows are his friends. His family. While he knows now that he can never rid himself of the care he felt for Lily, he also knows he can never be free from the bonds he had made as a mouthy, ill-tempered, half-blooded Slytherin. Where Eileen had ignored his existence and Tobias had scorned it, the Slytherin's in his age group had relished in Severus and all of the anger he held. Had seen the abuse he suffered at the hands of people who had not cared for him correctly, yet stuck with him all the same.

But neutrality is only another word for cowardice in the blurry lines of war.

He slips a few times too many. Wants to save all the contained, fleeting moments of happiness he can for those he calls his.

The Order never come to offer him a place at their side, his friendship with Lily still too tenuous to guarantee his loyalty. This is fine with him because he has little loyalty to a side that fights with lofty goals. To a group of bullies and spectators and few truly kind, truly just people.

He denies the mark at every corner, always has an excuse at the ready even as he continues to support the side of Dark, continues to the soirées that mask their actual functions, funnelling information to Lily through thoughtless comments. His friend thinks herself a spy, looking at him with trepidation and guilt aplenty. He plays her as he does everyone else, each thought, each word carefully composed to his advantages. ‘I am not ready, I must complete my Masteries, I am not competent enough, there are potions and spells in need of patenting and an affiliation with the Death Eaters will surely ruin me politically.’ Perhaps he relies too much on the memories of companionship, for the pressure to join digs at each passing meeting.

Either way his lack of a mark, lack of a brand is what kills him. Voldemort is no longer the patient Master he had once been, he takes care to make an example of Severus and his reticence, his disloyalty. Regulus is green as he watches, hands unnaturally still. Lucius is as pale as he had been the second time around, freshly from Azkaban. Bellatrix keeps her lips pursed, eyes far away in the telltale sign of occlusion, she's not lost in the famed Black madness just yet, has toed the line of love, lust and power but not yet crossed it. Cyrus does not look at him at all. Rodulphus the smug bastard grins the whole time. Severus dies in a matter of hours, the pain sharp and slow and seemingly never ending.

A shout of Snivellous, a whip of air tight in his lungs.

Severus is once more cursed with life.

Something inside of him begins to give way, fractured and aching and lounging in the Dark. He has loved Cyrus for three lifetimes now, has wanted so badly for the Dark Lord's vision of an equal, singular world of shared magic to come to fruition. Instead he closes his eyes to visions, to shadows of his friends dying, tortured and lost. To a crumbling system that time and time again put the brutality of mercy-killing children to the forefront of their crusade. He has loved Cyrus three times over and three times over Cyrus has loved Macdonald, has signed himself over to The Dark Lord.

Severus has won the war once, seen the devastation left by it in another life and failed all those dear to him in a third.

For his fourth life he changes his allegiance. The Dark is enticing but he has studied it over three lifetimes, he knows not what the Light has to offer.

Lily accepts his apologies begrudgingly then with palpable relief when he distances himself from Cy– from Mulciber. Never one to do anything in halves, Severus makes a show of befriending her friends and finds himself genuinely shocked when the show becomes a reality. Him and McKinnon will likely never like each other, both too cold, distrustful and guarded, but Mary's hot temper and wicked tongue is less disdainful when he has seen her temper cool and felt the genuine weight of her apologies. Alice is still a raging bitch, but she's like that with everyone so he takes no offence to her burning glares, instead relishing in the hot blush consuming her entire being whenever Longbottom falls to her feet. It's almost a shame to see the not-yet-couple graduate before them.

The four foolish, arrogant, Gryffindor toe-rags are still a bitter fight between the two best friends from Cokeworth, but he learns to quiet his rage, even if he does not imagine ever liking them.

Considering some of the constants across lifetimes, he thinks it will be harder to keep Pettigrew in the Light. Instead the rat-bastard accepts a blithe invitation to the cinema and falls at Tuney's feet, love-struck and vying with a gentle attention that has Lily's cruel sister thoroughly enthralled. Considering her husband across two lifetimes used to beat her silly, he does not complain about the change in pace.

Come the end of Hogwarts he has a tentative peace with Potter, who now lives in genuine fear of what Severus will do to his bollocks if he were to hurt his best friend. He would still sell Black to the dementors for nary a knut, a shared opinion really. He still throws acidic barbs at Lupin, even as he brews Wolfsbane with gathered ingredients, hiding the sliver of kindness behind a Masteries project he has no claim to. Belby delighted in their shared correspondence however, happy to attach his name as a sponsor to Severus' endeavours.

After three lifetimes of Slytherins, its maddening being around so many Gryffindors. They do not hide their plans to overthrow the Dark Lord. They walk into every room with a swagger and run to their future with a bullheadedness he can scarcely understand. Black and Potter steadfast in their desires to be Aurors, taking their Junior positions under the newly married Longbottoms with surprising grace, not offended that the two year gap has already seen the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff couple into Seniority. Pettigrew happy to travel the world with his new girlfriend. Mary and Lily throwing their own weight into healer courses. Lupin is still red-taped and hesitant to find a proper job, McKinnon happy to stumble through life whimsically. Most surprisingly, they do not need to be swayed by his words and neither do they mind when he so obviously plays them to his advantage.

Lupin and McKinnon listen to his arguments against the segregation of Muggle or Magic and House Rivalries widening a divide with rapt attention. They don't offer unsolicited, baseless arguments against Muggle customs entrenched in the hatred of differences, instead researching their rebuttals carefully. The trio spend hours of their first year post Hogwarts trying to define a future shaped by somewhat optimistic Laws that could benefit both wizarding and non-wizarding kind alike. So many hours discussing this in fact, that when the invitation to live on the McKinnon grounds comes, he's not actually that surprised. Her manor is huge and old, but not the looming ancient quality of the Malfoy manor, instead there is life and kindness and love to the wooden structure, to the large, blooming fields.

He plays some bold hands when the trio end up living together, practically throwing a Mastery sponsorship at Lupin and making small, sly comments about Slughorn's impending retirement. The shock of a future has Lupin almost red-faced as he spouts idillic beliefs of a new generation of kindness, of equity coming to grace Hogwarts. McKinnon, no longer drinking herself blind, seems to toy with the idea of a Transfiguration apprenticeship when he brings Avery over for a quick catch up.

He is 19 and also over a hundred and this new world in the Light is so very different to what he thought it would be.

Of course 20 comes in dark and dreary as it wont to do.

Most of his Slytherin friends had seen his loyalty to Lucius and Mulciber wither and die and had left him with cruel sneers and harsh curses that he accepted. He has chosen the Light and left his friends to die. Again he is the youngest Triple Master in all of Great Britain, even younger than his first life. Nothing else is quite the same, not even the Light.

As attacks on Muggleborns get bolder, Dumbledore the paranoid war-general seeks to reap the loyalty he has sown in his ex-students. Again, he does not approach Severus and when the first meeting his friends were invited to finishes, Severus is sat with a full kettle of chai and sweets on the table, his research into blood-wards stretched wide. McKinnon storms in angry in a way that is surprising considering the last three months they have spent living together, even the usually mild look on Lupin's face is tight, lips quivering.

Behind them is the host of Gryffindors he hasn't seen since Yule. He raises a brow, flickering his hand to start on more tea and spelling some liquor to the table. Black wrenches the Firewhisky open, dribbles of alcohol spilling out of a few heavy handed shot glasses.

Through halted, tight breaths they tell him of an Order he was thoroughly aware of; tell him of a meeting he had not been invited to; tell him of an idiotic, hasty decision made by five teenagers who had been obviously throwing themselves to the tides of war. They tell him of loyalty to a bitter, sarcastic, cruel, ugly man who had been enthralled in the Dark and still chose the Light. Tuney and Pettigrew are still travelling across Asia, Pettigrew desperately trying to keep his beloved safe, but the rest of the foolish Gryffindor's had seen his lack of a presence at a meeting so perfectly tailored to their desire and instead, chose him.

Three lifetimes given and in the fourth, he is finally chosen but not by the man he had most wanted. It's a gratifying feeling.

None of them join the Order, though Frank will occasionally drop information at Potter and Black, careful to be wondering aloud and not to them. All of them, all now his to protect, create another option. He desists on his research, entrenching himself instead in the way of Magical Law, forces his knowledge down both Potter and Black's throats because the dunderheads are the future of Wizengamot whether they desire it or not. Vouches for Marley's Transfiguration apprenticeship at Beauxbaton. Assures Remus that there is no betrayal in accepting a job offer at the most prestigious Magic School in Great Britain. Asks for a hushed favour from Peter when Avery comes crashing into the McKinnon estate, cursed to a pale filth and crying for a mark he cannot refuse when his sister is still in school. Lily starts a crusade for an integrated Healer/Auror unit, Mary as her second, even as she retroactively starts researching a specialisation in mind-maladies. He escorts Marley down the aisle at Lily's wedding, brushes shoulders with Remus in drunken glee, shares light-hearted barbs with a pregnant Tuney across the dinner table, Peter's newly met 'cousins' awkwardly sat at the long table with them, Aid brushing their knees together.

It is a start of a future that leaves him all the more hopeful, all the more willing to put his life in the hands of Gryffindor's if they could produce such foolishly bright paths.

This future becomes more solid, a tentative, rocky truce across most of the year levels at Hogwarts, all silently reproachful and admiring of the stunningly fair, scarred Potion Apprentice signing up to take Slughorn's position. A St.Mungos healer makes a poor attempt at stitching up a half-dead Corbin Yaxley and Lily and Sirius sue for malpractice with the sort of indignant, reckless fury he's always known them to posses. Marley loses her parents and it becomes international news, a French Reporter railing for action against the Dark plaguing Britain, decrying the inaction of French Wizardingfolk marking it as cowardly as the inaction France had been met with during Grindelwald's reign, waxing about the small, misfit group that finally took that particular Dark Wizard down. Regulus meets Sirius for an awkward dinner, the two brothers watched carefully by both he and Cissa, the two unrelated Slytherin's in the room both masking their surprise at the protective detail sat in opposite sides of the bar. Cissa could have half this pub in a tangle of rumours and fights before he could draw his wand. He could have Reg sulking at his feet with only a fierce look. The Black brothers chose their overseers well.

Draco Malfoy meets his Uncle Sirius with graceless tugs at black curls and a wide gummy smile that has his once-Godfather cooing like a blithering idiot. His parents quiet and fearful as they tug the wards around them.

Harry James Potter is born and he has his mother's eyes and his father's hair and a bounding of curiosity that has all of his Aunties and Uncles roaring with laughter, parents more frazzled than ever.

Twenty one has never felt more harrowing, and Severus has spent six years in the company of Gryffindor's, so of course their brash stupidity rubs off on him. He knows not what shapes the Dark Lord's horcruxes takes, but he knows enough to distance himself from the future he is seeing, to bury himself in the Dark he has always sought.

Regulus lives past nineteen, dragged ashore by the bitter asshole he had enviously viewed as a traitor and an inspiration at once. The locket is blast with the darkest magic Severus can conjure, he knows his dark magic well and the locket screeches as the soul within it dies. Severus loses a hand to a ring that Dumbledore had sought out, two lifetimes ago, but it is a victorious loss that assures the future of those he calls his. He sprinkles his knowledge of dark magick across the information net that encompasses The Order of The Phoenix, allowing it to slip through his constructed cracks and into the ears of the wisened wizard he respects ardently and hates all the same. His death is a quiet, bitter thing, him and Bellatrix both burning in the tangle of dark, angrily shouted spells, the reclusive safe house of some old Pureblood decaying with him. The snap and crackle of his magic felt by his shrieking, six year old nephew in the Potter Manor and the hoarse, anguished shouts leaving Marley's mouth as the wards that once tethered him to the McKinnon estate released his magic to the world. There is no body to bury, the crips he knows it will be.

A snap, a marionette laying in the air and Severus, once more cursed with life.

He is old, he tries. Rewrites the history of the last two lifetimes, pulling his Slytherin friends ashore to the Light and tethering himself to the Gryffindor's he has come to love.

Twenty three, dead.

Four horcruxes found, destroyed. A patent for a Wolfsbane potion that renders the user of sound mind and turns their bones to jelly just long enough for the transformation to not hurt. No mastery. No nights spent crowded over a kitchen table with Marley and Remus. A crusade of peace and understanding underpinning his every move. Avery dead for abandonment of duty at seventeen, Mulciber sentenced to a kiss for murdering a minor, Bellatrix once more drowning in grief of her baby cousin's death.

Again.

Frank is a single father at twenty four, Neville not even one yet. Alice avenged by Moody, his anger taking down the stuttering Avery and the overtly powerful Lestrange brothers. Marley is finishing up a study in Magical Law and plays footsie with Meadows whenever they go pub-crawling. Sirius becomes Lord Black as soon as Regulus is of age, his younger brother relinquishing the title and fleeing to studies in Egypt. Peter dies at eighteen, a raid in Knockturn Alley turning violent by the presence of Death Eaters and too rough Aurors, Tuney survives and never steps foot in Magical Britain again. Harry is born and he and his parents are given warded necklaces, tokens to protect them from as much Dark Magic as is feasible. Voldemort is defeated, but not dead, the Potter family somehow safe in the aftermath of the attack. Remus takes on the role of DADA Professor and lives to carry that title on for more than 5 years. His connections to these people become tenuous the longer he passes through their lives. He has no godchildren and no one to come home to disappearing in the cloak of nightfall and spreading his magical research across the continent with broad strokes and badly maintained whispers in the right ears. All in all this is the only death not made in the throes of war, he dies at twenty nine, during the peace filled years in an unexpected car wreck.

Just once more.

Mary dies a week from graduation, taking Mulciber down in the scuffle. Lily disarms and arrests Bellatrix Lestrange two years into being an auror. James lives to name his son and can never again hold his frail form, never again ride a broom, not with the soft whisper of crucio creating tremors from his once steady grip. Out of pure spite, Severus throws tomes of wandless magic at the once auror, refusing to see the man who had run head first into war become a snivelling, regretful coward. Marley and Meadows hold hands as they walk down the street, both already making names for themselves in the Ministry, unafraid to use nepotism to their advantage if it meant fighting for their relationship to be open and honest. Regulus dies fresh from Hogwarts, and there are no apologies sincere enough, no rationalisation strong enough to salvage the friendship Sirius had with Lily. Sirius loves James and loves Harry and can never forgive Lily. Remus fights the war and loses a foot for it, but he finds a quiet cottage to call home in Ottery St.Catchpole and ends up in some odd, quasi threesome and marriage with the Lovegoods that he does not mention in any length. Peter and Tuney still live in Cokeworth, have two sons both glad to look over their baby cousin once he starts Hogwarts. Severus once again falls to the shadows, trying his damndest to kill the wizard he once admired, to finally put a damn end to this curse. He dies as the Dark Lord is once more resurrected, his flung protego protecting Diggory, but not even his strongest wards, his strongest tokens can stop Evan from drawing Harry's blood to the caldron. He spells the portkey to the foolish boys he had come to protect and hears Harry's shout of no in the same moment he sees the jet of dark green flying his way.

By his eighth life he is so tired of war. Does not care if Dumbledore wins or Voldemort wins or if his friends die. He has witnessed so many iterations of them fall before him.

Severus dangles in the air, falls against the ground and does not move.

His mind is a fracture of mazes and occlusion is the only peace he knows, burying what remains of his conscious beneath the icy depths of water.

Through a haze he sees faces. Genuine concern in cool, blue eyes, no twinkle in sight. Guilty, surly faces of enemies and friends and people he may yet love. Severus has played fate so many times, he is so tired, prefers to sit himself unmoving in a white hospital bed. Cyrus kisses him exactly once, the raging inferno of thousands dispelling the calm of his steady river. Severus sinks further, intent to never again see the light of day.

He does not know when he dies, notices a steady lack of visitors, meets a cherub faced Harry and loud hollering Draco and knows no more. Then a blank series of nurses and the old coot who was the most piss poor Headmaster to ever grace the earth. Seeing the ageing visage almost has him leaving the peace of his own mind, though he manages to wrangle those intentions far below the surface.

Snivellous.

Godric Almighty he's fucking sick of this shit. He breaks the spell he had created so many lifetimes ago with ease, lets the familiar weight of his wand rest to his hand, tilting the wooden conduit to his chin and traumatising more than fifty kids by just topping himself there and then.

ANOTHER ONE!

He doesn't care if he has to off himself a thousand more times. He. Will. Not. Stay.

A few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors misreads his intent and disarms him when his magical core begins to coarse with violent, deadly cracks in the ground. Dumbledore comes to speak to him, he does not care. A whole week spent planning his inevitable demise, waiting for Poppy's damned charms to free him from their horrifying, well-meaning grasp. When he's finally released he storms to the top of the Astronomy tower and just jumps.

Of course he had forgotten about the hedge magick surrounding Hogwarts. Another five days of sad useless interrogations and crying Lily and angry Cyrus. When he's at the Great Hall that night, he's so mad that two attempts had failed and just plunges a butter knife as violently as he can through his neck. Sod everyone else.

But no, no dying doesn't work. Death doesn't want him. Not in the tenth life, the fourteenth life, not in his seventeenth life will he finally stay down.

He's tried it all. Suicide by cop, mauled by animals, starvation. It does not stick. He runs away to the Muggle World, does his O-Levels and A-Levels, gets a degree in Chemical Engineering and a Muggle Husband and Son that he gets to see murdered before his very eyes. Very much not because of magic, no, but because apparently leaving your ex-wife for your son's primary Science teacher is a crime punishable by death. Apparently picking your wonderful, kind Da over your abusive, psycho Mum is all strangers need to kill you like mindless savages.

After that awfulness, he runs to East Asia, learning ancient branches of magic. Ignores his unfinished OWLs and the degree he does not have and the permits he most certainly lacked as he trudges through Mainland China, Taiwan, Bangkok, Singapore, India, through the Middle East. He learns enough magic to no longer need a wand, ever, though he shrinks his wand and attaches it to an earring, if only for the companionship it has given. Dies facing a particularly pissed dragon in this life.

Out of boredom he becomes an screen-writer and actor, just drops school and uses ancient Chinese rituals to spell his hair sleek and silky, uses colour correcting charms passed through Indian households to even out his skin tone. A Filipino potion has the bones of his teeth and nose evening out into something more normal looking. By the end of it he might have actually looked a bit fit. A few lifetimes having to lie his way to Helheim and back means he's something of a good actor with enough tragic stories to tell, that he's never in need of a role. He's been through enough pain, enough anger, enough betrayal to embody every character given to him smoothly, to give charming, dry smiles at his co-stars after performing monologues that leave them gasping in fear. This is a fun life, spent with magic oozing from his every move and addled by whatever drug seems to hit his fancy. Bellatrix hunts him down after he's nominated for an Oscar for his role as a naive General under Hilter's regime in love with a poor, captive Jewish mother. Not his own work, but it's his first Oscar nomination so he's a bit smug and really fucking trashed when she finds him at his unguarded apartment. She calls him a blood-traitor and fool and scorns the power she can feel radiating from him, unmasked and developing with him. She gives him a choice for glory. Severus has known glory and hated it all the same, so he sends her off with a kiss against her cheek and promises for dinner. Two days later Macnair, Rosier, Crouch and Scabior come to claim the dinner invite he had given and honestly, it's just easier letting them kill him then it is to fight back. Based on the sharp gleam in his eyes and the sudden raising of brows, Evan realises he had given up long before they got there.

He does manage to kill Voldemort, for good in his eighteenth life. Just follows his magical signature set on the ring to the rest of the bloody horcruxes and uses some refined Japanese spellwork to mutilate the damned things. But Voldemort's death makes no happy ending, creates instead a power vacuum that is still unstable when he steps into as the new Dark Lord. Cissa kills him in this lifetime, a poison in his drink that he could smell when he'd kissed her fingertips.

By the time his twentieth lifetime comes, Severus has knowledge of every form of magic known to wizarding kind, except the kind that will ensure he is never again reborn, has exactly no attachments to anyone and is only searching for a peaceful way to die.

Content to let things lie, he waits until Potter has placed him back on the ground. Spells his wand to a makeshift earring. Flies off to hunt horcruxes, but does not kill the Dark Lord because he can't be arsed looking for the paranoid man on top of everything else. Writes theses under psuedo-nyms, sends ideas where they can be cultivated, puts a very particular potion recipe in Lupin's room and goes searching through Ethiopia to Pakistan looking for a good and permanent death.

Why Potter nee Evans, McKinnon, Mulciber, Malfoy and Malfoy nee Black decide to interrupt this journey almost four years later, he hasn't the faintest idea.

Life would be so much better if he could just die.

(If ever I come back to this, the original idea is Lily, Marlene and Narcissa decide to investigate what the hell happened to Severus Snape and why their family magic seems to be honing in on the supernova that is his magical signature. Lucius is going so those damned Gryffs don't hurt his lovely wife and Cyrus just wants to know why the heck he keeps seeing Snape die. Along the way they decide to get attached to him and make sure he's just as attached to them and not spending all of his waking time trying to off himself. It's a particularly long journey.)

[dinxieyinxie]

the demons won tonight laddies

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[maxdibert]

Thinking about how Dumbledore found it terrible that Snape only wanted to save Lily, but didn’t find it terrible that for 7 years James had been constantly bullying him and even forced Severus to keep quiet after they almost killed him.

I’ve always thought that if Dumbledore hadn’t been such an irresponsible jerk, many of his students wouldn’t have ended up radicalized. He literally left them to their fate and then acted surprised when they sought out an alternative father figure. Like, sir, please shut up.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Marauders stans like to say that Snape deserved the bullying because of all the bad stuff he did later one and because he hung out with bad people even back then

They don't seem to like being told that it's the Marauders fault Snape hung out with bad people to begin with

[isthemicon]

As a Romione shipper (and huge Ron stan) I do get mad at the way films treated my ship and favorite character but then I think about Hinny shippers and Ginny fans and I feel like I shouldn’t even complain…

[automaticcroissantbatsludge]

Victory

Snape: I won

Sirius: you are under me

Snape (stare him with passion) I still won

[your-neighbourhood-antisocial]

He wanted to be stopped, to be dragged back, to be sent back home.....but he was HOME. Hogwarts was the first and best home he had known, he and Voldemort and snape, the abandoned boys had all found home here

[bythepen98]

Severus 🐍

Aside from Harry and Hermione, he is arguably the next character whose pov I read about the most (gen or ship wise). Can't help that he's too interesting of a character for me to ignore when written right.

[mccromy]

Character: *is canonically violent and abusive but has a sad backstory*

Normal people: he isn't real and it's cool and fun to explore his character in different scenarios

Freaks: he was right actually AND he is a poor little boy, he was MISUNDERSTOOD. actually those children were abusive towards him first but the narrator was unreliable so :/

[like-sunflower]

I saw some posts on rip twitter, about sam hazeldine to be casted as professor snape and this became my roman empire. Alan rickman was perfect, i think it will pretty difficult to anyone reach his work, but i can agree about Sam, he has the voice, the aura, the posture, i think he would make a good job.

[cottoncandiescupcakes]

Welcome back Professor Snape and Professor Lockhart I guess

Sorry but they remind me so much of each other NOW YOU MUST SEE IT TOO

If they ever do a remake I got your men for the job

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Doing a Marauders Prequel Series is a Waste of Time

Listen, if you look at JKR's writing for the 7 HP books they follow a similar pattern. 90% of the book is pure fluff where she makes you think Harry and his pals are doing something productive when they are not and then everything suddenly happens at the end through dumb luck, deus ex machina or other contrivances. (Ex. see Deathly Hallows, Chamber of Secrets, Philospher's Stone)

Here's a rough take on how the Marauder's prequel show would go:

15% Mauraders hijinks (becoming animagus, making the map, James crushing on Lily etc)

5% Voldemort war/Slytherins

5% maybe Sirius' family drama

75% Marauders bullying Snape

Like...what content is there to show? More boring magic classes? Slytherins once again being given no development (outside from maybe Andromeda dating a mudblood)? More annoying love drama?? All we will see is James' annoying crush on Lily and these boys being huge bullies. If you get one decent season of substantial episodes, that's plenty.

I bet Marauder stans just want to see a show where Severus is constantly shoved into a toilet or something and shown to be a loser incel.

[dandelionscarf]

Severus and the power line towers. I think Severus looked at those towers and imagined himself big, strong and free from the darkness of Spider's End.

[maxdibert]

Every time you want to excuse the bullying Severus faced on the grounds that he called Lily a “Mudblood,” remember that Lily had just almost smiled at a guy who was not only actively abusing and mistreating him right in front of the entire school, backed by his group of friends, but was also the same rich brat who, along with his other super-rich friend, laughed at Severus for looking poor. They had no excuse for being actively classist and abusing their socioeconomic status, so I don’t know, my dear children, find another excuse because your heroes were pieces of trash, and they couldn’t even claim to have suffered trauma to explain their terrible behavior.

[superfallingstars]

Snapetober concept/process sketches part 2!

Part 1 here, see the finished art in my Snapetober tag!

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober Day 14 - Perpetual

Summer of 1998

The gargoyle gave way - Harry quickly climbed the flight of stairs leading to the Headmaster's office. He did it with relative apprehension. He had not been invited, had not even requested a meeting; yet he was granted passage, and he hoped that was a good omen.

He wanted to speak with Dumbledore, once and for all. He needed it. Then he would finally try to let go, to think ahead, and continue to grieve. One last conversation and he would leave the school for twelve months before coming back to complete his seventh year: they had all agreed upon this break, even Hermione. 

But he stopped, well before the threshold. There was something - a sound - resembling sobs coming from the office: desperate weeping that could not be muffled, no matter how hard one tried. He listened.

Slowly, he climbed the last steps and froze. 

Professor McGonagall was standing in the middle of the office. In front of her, on the headmaster's desk, lay what looked like a portrait, recently unwrapped; the frame was of a rusty colour.

That was all Harry could see. 

Slowly, the new headmistress turned around the desk to face the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. Her hands were shaking. 

"Albus... perhaps we should wait. Just... just until he wakes up..."

Dumbledore shook his head.

When his voice rose, Harry was struck by how tainted with grief it was. If Professor McGonagall was crying, he instinctively expected the former headmaster to take on the role of the grave, comforting figure: but his voice, if that was even possible, sounded even weaker than the headmistress'. 

"I am afraid Severus made himself clear", Dumbledore said, closing his eyes briefly. "No portrait."

McGonagall was wringing her hands. 

"I cannot - I - please. No. I need to tell him first... how sorry I am..."

"My dear-"

"You have had your chance, Albus", she cut him acerbically. "I did not."

For a moment she could not speak. She tried to calm herself down, and Harry watched as she reached the desk for support. She looked fragile - exhausted. 

"You have no idea... no idea what I have said... or done", she whispered after a while. "No idea."

"Severus never held any of it against you, Minerva", the former headmaster said sadly, almost hesitantly. "He knew... what his role entailed."

"I need to speak to him!" the headmistress shouted, jerking her head to look straight into his eyes again.

The features of her face were distorted by pain - her gaze was wet, red and terrible - she struggled to breathe. 

"I need to speak to him", she muttered again, leaning more heavily on the desk. Then it seemed that she could not take it any longer and turned her face away from Dumbledore's, back to the portrait that led beside her. "I must speak to him."

"I cannot let you do that."

"You sent him to his death!"

The silence was heavy- atrocious. Harry watched as the former headmaster lowered his head in shame, and he stepped back, almost falling down - this could not be... Dumbledore would never...

"No matter what you tell yourself, Albus", McGonagall said after a while, coldly - "No matter what you tell yourself or how much we owe you, the fact remains. He is dead - I must tell him that I am sorry. I must tell him... how much I cared for him. He must know that I mourned him as much as I mourned you, when he... when he... he must know."

Dumbledore shook his head.

"Severus had little if any agency over his life, Minerva. He was never in control. He decided against a portrait. Could you face him once more, having denied his wishes even in death?"

In response, the headmistress only made a strangled sound and took her head in her hands, throwing herself into the headmaster's chair in defeat.  

She looked like a woman who would never recover. 

"You know how this works, Minerva", Dumbledore spoke softly, cautiously. "Severus was not alive when this portrait was painted. He did not teach it anything. That portrait will be less than a mirror - we poured so much of ourselves into our portraits, whereas he -"

"But it still will be a faint imprint. The level of sentience also depends on the power of the wizard depicted - you know this portrait will retain something of him. It has to."

The painted Dumbledore stood up.

"It will. And this version of Severus - this echo - will understand that his very existence and cognizance are to be the result of us having ignored his last wishes, only to cleanse ourselves - to relieve ourselves from guilt."

McGonagall shook her head, but said nothing. 

"Severus' wishes deserve to be respected, Minerva, more than even you deserve to apologise to him. It must be so - it cannot be otherwise."

She remained silent.

"Let him be in control. Let him decide. What he was never granted in life, he needs to be granted in death. I apologise, Minerva - I never wanted to inflict this pain on either of you. I tried to save him... he was to come out of this alive... you must believe me."

Then they fell silent.

After a while, McGonagall took out her wand and laid it before her, her face unreadable. She looked up.

"So you get the chance to apologise to me, Albus. You can and you will. But I cannot. I never will, even though I have a chance, even a half-chance..."

"This is not Severus."

"I know!"

She seized her wand and pointed it at the portrait on the desk, standing up furiously.

"I am glad, Albus", she said coldly, her voice suddenly strangely calm.

Blue flames came out of her wand and wrapped the portrait with blinding vigour. From where he stood, Harry saw the paper slowly come out of the frame, writhe in the fire, grow distorted and black; it took only a few seconds for it to be reduced to ashes, and it was then that he noticed all the headmasters and headmistresses around the office standing up, paying their respects.

The light of the flames made the tears on McGonagall's face shimmer faintly. She watched the portrait burn until nothing but the frame remained.

After a while she turned away, her face dry, and looked once more at Dumbledore.

"I am glad", she said again, and the former headmaster did not hold her gaze. "I will blame myself for the rest of my life - I will never get to apologise - but you won't, either. And your penitence, Albus, begins now, and lasts perpetually."