McGonagall stepped off the staircase and moved immediately to Lily's side.
"Headmaster, I have brought him."
"Thank you, Minerva." Dumbledore nodded, then looked at Severus with a kind smile, lowering his half-moon spectacles slightly.
"There is nothing to worry about. I only wish to ask you a few questions about the incident several days ago, involving you, Miss Evans, and her friends."
"Of course, Headmaster. Please, ask away."
"Good. Tell me what happened. Leave nothing out."
"Yes. That day, I—"
Over the next ten minutes, Severus laid it all out: everything that had happened between him and Potter and his companions before the Potions exam. He kept his voice level, his manner subdued, pressing the fragment of Severus's real personality over himself like a second skin. The speech patterns, the small habits, the particular way Severus carried himself when he was trying not to be noticed. Every detail had to hold.
It was not a matter of performance. It was a matter of survival. Defeating a Magister was still beyond him. And beyond Dumbledore, two Masters were standing in the same room, which made his position considerably less comfortable.
"That is how it was," he finished, lowering his eyes as though reluctant to meet Dumbledore's gaze.
Dumbledore had listened throughout without interrupting, nodding occasionally.
"I see. You used a nonverbal Silencio. Then why did Mr. Potter say he could not breathe?"
"It was the first time I had cast it nonverbally. I may have made an error in the execution."
"That could very well have happened. In future, do not use such spells unless you are certain they will behave as intended." Dumbledore's tone was firm rather than unkind.
Severus nodded, looking suitably guilty.
"Lily, do you have any questions?"
"Yes." She swallowed, then turned her gaze to Severus. "Do you remember what you said to me in fourth year? That evening. The reason we fought?"
"I am sorry. I don't remember," Severus said, meeting her eyes without warmth.
"I. I see." She straightened. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I am certain this is not Severus. He is not like this."
"And perhaps you simply never knew me well? You say I am not like this. What am I like, then? A Dark wizard? A Death Eater? That is what you think, isn't it?"
"Mr. Snape, please calm yourself." McGonagall stepped sharply in front of Lily.
Slughorn's hands came down on Severus's shoulders, firm and steady.
Severus went still.
He took a slow breath, let it out, and shook his head.
"I apologise for the outburst, Headmaster. Might we speak privately?"
"Hm. Very well."
The room cleared. When the door closed, Severus raised his eyes to Dumbledore's face.
He bit his lower lip, reached up, and tugged his collar down.
He drew his wand and touched the tip to his own throat.
A few seconds later, purple marks bloomed across the skin.
Dumbledore frowned. He rose from behind the desk and came closer, reaching out to touch one of the bruises.
"Could it be that you—"
Severus nodded, his smile small and sad.
"I tried to end my life that day. But it did not work. The rope snapped."
"Why did you not come to me? Or speak with Professor Slughorn?" Dumbledore held his gaze steadily. "Suicide is not an answer. I hope you understand that."
"I do understand. But when I came so close to dying, something shifted. I understood how much I did not want to lose this life. It opened my eyes." He paused. "I decided to change."
"I am very glad to hear that, my boy."
"James, whom I always feared, who made every corridor feel dangerous. I stood up to him. Lily, whom I loved, who ultimately turned away from me. I decided to let her go. I want to start again. Bury myself in my studies. See what I can become."
He touched his wand to his temple and drew out a thin strand of memory, lightly edited, and held it out.
"This is what you were hoping to see, is it not?"
Dumbledore looked mildly surprised, then nodded.
He produced a small transparent vial and placed the memory inside.
"My dream now is to finish Hogwarts and travel," Severus said, tucking his wand away. A distant, slightly dreamy quality came into his voice. "I want to see this world properly. Is that not a worthy thing to want?"
"It is a wonderful dream. I once wanted the same." A pause. "It did not come to pass."
Dumbledore straightened Severus's collar, covering the rope mark, and returned to his desk. His hand rested briefly on a small steel globe, and something moved behind his eyes: old and private.
"But it is never too late to begin."
"Of course. Though certainly not any time soon." Severus smiled tiredly, and shrugged.
"As for Lily's question: the reason we fought that day was Avery and Mulciber." He dropped his gaze, letting embarrassment show. "I know they are not good people. But I had no other friends. Very few in Slytherin were willing to befriend a half-blood, and I think you understand why. Lily told me to stop seeing them entirely. To give up the only people who treated me as though I mattered. That is not fair. She had friends. Was I supposed to simply be alone?"
"Lily was worried about you, my boy. She wanted you to have better."
"You may be right, Headmaster. But I find her methods difficult to forgive. I no longer intend to have any sort of relationship with her. I would ask that we close this topic."
Five minutes later, Severus left the office.
He did not look at Lily, who was hovering behind McGonagall and watching him with unease. He went straight to Slughorn.
"Professor, the Headmaster asks that you go in. Professor McGonagall, could you see Miss Evans back to Gryffindor Tower?"
"Are you all right?" Slughorn asked, studying him.
"Yes. I explained everything to the Headmaster. It went well."
"Good, then. Good night, Mr. Snape."
"And to you, Professor."
Back in his room, Severus let the personality fragment go.
A Magister. That was genuinely unexpected. And Dumbledore is merely one of the strongest wizards in the country, which means there are others.
He dropped onto the bed and closed his eyes, letting the thought drift where it wanted.
Many countries. A fair chance of several more Magisters scattered across the world. And here is an uncomfortable question: why did I spend so little time on spells that do not demand enormous reserves?
The weakest spells he knew required at least a peak Master's power to cast. His core was currently sitting at the very beginning of that rank.
"After I return to Hogwarts, I need the basilisk's blood and heart. Over the holidays: dragon and phoenix, same ingredients. Though given the size of the basilisk here, and Dumbledore's phoenix, I probably will not reach Archmage straight away. Early-stage Magister at best. Mid-stage if the quality is good. This war, though. I want no part of it. Though I am already connected to Lucius, which complicates things."
He did not know much about the war, only the surface of it. But he had lived long enough to read a situation, and this one was profoundly unstable. The fact that open talk of the Dark Lord recruiting followers was commonplace in Slytherin House told him enough.
The cause of the war drew nothing from him but contempt.
World conquest, he could have understood. It was brutal, but it had a certain logic. Exterminating everyone who was not a pureblood was something else entirely. It was simply stupid.
Even setting aside the moral dimension: if he joined the dark wizards, he would almost certainly die. The category of non-purebloods was not limited to Muggles. It included Muggle-borns and half-bloods, and Severus was a half-blood.
His mother, Eileen Prince, had been a witch from the pureblood Prince family. His father, Tobias Snape, was a Muggle.
He had always found Eileen's choice surprising. A daughter from an aristocratic family, running off with a common Muggle. It struck a familiar note: he had seen the same pattern before, in other contexts, and it rarely came from nowhere. A love potion, most likely. Something binding, something that removed the choice.
He had seen far worse. He had once worked as a mercenary in a family dispute and watched a son put a dagger into his father's heart without hesitation.
So he would investigate. If his suspicions proved correct, he would find the culprit and he would make their life very unpleasant indeed. That would settle the debt he owed for this second life.
He turned it over for a few more minutes, then sat up and made five more cubes, transfigured them into needles, and went to sleep.
The next morning, right after breakfast, he went back to the library.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he stopped.
A red-haired girl was sitting at his usual table. But it was not Lily herself who held his attention. It was the book open in front of her.
The title surfaced a brief flash of information.
"Patronus. Now that is interesting. We had nothing like that where I come from."
His eyes lit up. For the first time since arriving in this world, he had run into something genuinely outside his knowledge.
"I cannot wait to study that spell. But Salazar's words come first. I can do that properly over the holidays."
He filed it away and turned from her without a second glance.
He summoned the books he had been working through the day before and picked up the decipherment exactly where he had left it.
At the same table, Lily had not moved. She was watching him steadily, her gaze fixed and intent.
"Even if the Headmaster believes him, I know it is not Sev. Someone has taken over his body. And I am going to prove it." Her jaw was set. Her eyes were absolutely certain.
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