Hogwarts i am snape

When the oak door opened, Dumbledore was seated behind his grand desk, the lingering rays of the setting sun illuminating the endlessly spinning silver instruments upon it.

"Severus," he looked up, speaking softly. "I have already reached out to some old friends, some of whom knew Nagini. We are working together to find a solution."

"People who knew Nagini?" Snape asked, though he already had a vague answer in mind. "Who?"

"Nicolas Flamel," Dumbledore said. "You must have heard his name."

"Indeed," Snape replied, confirming his suspicion that it was the owner of the Philosopher's Stone. "Professor, I came here hoping you could help me create a Portkey, one that could return me to Hogwarts."

"What do you intend to do with it?" Dumbledore inquired.

"To return from Malfoy Manor, as a precaution," Snape stated plainly. He wasn't concerned about revealing secrets; though the Malfoy family was ancient, they hadn't produced a Hogwarts Headmaster. "To your knowledge, Professor, is Malfoy Manor currently a Death Eater stronghold?"

"To my knowledge, Malfoy Manor is not currently a Death Eater stronghold," Dumbledore slowly said, setting down his quill. "However, that does not mean there is no danger there. Are you intending to retrieve the 'terrible talking thing' Dobby spoke of?"

Snape nodded.

"Do you believe it wise to directly infiltrate the residence of a pure-blood family?" Dumbledore's voice remained calm, but his tone carried clear skepticism.

"I am confident," Snape asserted. "I merely require a secure retreat."

"This violates the regulations of the Portkey Office, as you well know," Dumbledore sighed. "More importantly, while I too wish to know what this item is, I believe that you are more important than it."

Snape felt a strange ripple of emotion. "I am deeply moved, Professor," he said dryly, masking the tremor in his voice. "But since when have we cared for the Ministry of Magic's regulations, Professor?"

Dumbledore's lips curved into a faint smile, but quickly returned to a serious expression. He pondered for a moment, then stood and walked to a storage cabinet.

"It will activate precisely at midnight, bringing you back here," Dumbledore said, taking a silver locket from the cabinet. He pointed his wand at it and intoned, "Portus."

Once the locket's light and trembling ceased, he handed it to Snape.

"Wear it close to you," he emphasized. "Be careful."

Snape nodded, fastening the locket around his neck. But he wasn't content with just one.

"Professor," Snape said, "I recall there are two types of Portkeys. One transports anyone who touches it at a specific time to a destination, just like this one."

"But there is also another kind, which transports instantly upon contact. Would you mind making me a touch-activated one as well? That way, I could choose to return at will."

"Don't push your luck, Severus. One illegal Portkey is bad enough," Dumbledore's expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement, but he turned back to the cabinet once more. "You are encouraging the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to break the law, you know."

"Oh, don't be so serious," Snape said with a grin. "Just laugh it off. Once you've done something once, the second time is always easier, Professor."

"Here," Dumbledore enchanted a medallion in the same manner, then carefully wrapped it in parchment. "Tear open the parchment when you need it."

"Thank you, my dear Professor," Snape said, satisfied, as he stowed away the Portkeys.

"Now, how do you intend to infiltrate Malfoy Manor?" Dumbledore returned to his desk and sat down, asking, "Do you require assistance?"

"I don't believe so," Snape pulled a crystal vial containing a dark liquid from his robes. "I have a way in—Polyjuice Potion."

"Where did you acquire the ingredients?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Professor Slughorn had a large cauldron of it," Snape said nonchalantly. "Borrowing a bit from him is no trouble at all."

"Borrowing?" Dumbledore's tone was filled with doubt.

"The part he didn't notice," Snape admitted. "I don't think he'll mind."

"Very well," Dumbledore shook his head, seemingly deciding not to press further on this blatant violation of school rules. "Who do you plan to become?"

"Abraxas Malfoy. Who else could it be?" Snape said. "After the duelling club that night, I collected some things from Professor Malfoy."

"Bat-Bogey Hexes?" Dumbledore suddenly chuckled, looking at Snape with a glint of respect in his eyes. "Bogies?"

"Hair!" Snape repeated, annoyed. "His shed hair!"

"Right, right," Dumbledore appeased him. "I suppose you wouldn't resort to such a sacrifice."

Next, Snape pulled out a magnificent set of silver-green wizard's robes and matching shoes from his bag, then looked at Dumbledore. "If you'll excuse me, Professor. This is pay-per-view content."

"This is my office," Dumbledore sniffed. "And besides," he gestured to the portraits on the walls, "they are watching too."

"Then I shall simply have to go outside myself," Snape said, gathering his clothes and heading for the door. As he closed it, he looked back and added, "I have no desire to change in front of old men."

Outside, Snape pinched his nose, took a deep breath, and swallowed the Polyjuice Potion in one gulp. As the liquid slid down his throat, he nearly retched—it tasted like overcooked old cabbage leaves mixed with an indescribable, fishy stench.

The next second, searing pain erupted. His internal organs began to churn, as if he had swallowed several live snakes. A powerful burning sensation spread from his stomach throughout his entire body, reaching his fingers and toes.

Then came the dreadful sensation of melting, as if his skin were bubbling like hot wax.

Snape writhed on the ground, gasping, watching in horror as his hands began to writhe and deform like heated wax, wrinkles crawling across his skin, his nails widening, and his knuckles protruding like bolts.

The most unbearable sensation was the stinging on his scalp; he could feel his hair growing, light gold strands falling before his eyes.

The pain came suddenly and departed just as swiftly. A minute later, Snape gasped, grimacing, and shakily stood up. He quickly shed his original robes and donned the Malfoy-style attire. He adjusted the emerald clasp at the collar from memory, ensuring every detail was flawless.

Snape touched his face, feeling unfamiliar wrinkles and a beard. When he pushed open the door, he was the spitting image of Abraxas Malfoy.

"Dumbledore," Snape said in Abraxas's characteristic arrogant, oily voice, "I regret to inform you that the Board of Governors has decided to revoke your headmastership."

His chin lifted slightly, and he walked with an exaggerated stride to Dumbledore, looking down imperiously at the seated Headmaster. He picked up a piece of parchment from the desk and tapped it with his wand, transforming it into a mirror.

In the mirror, Abraxas Malfoy's lips curved slightly into a supercilious smile.

"Arise, Dumbledore," Snape continued his act. "This seat now belongs to me—"

"Your performance is almost flawless," Dumbledore said calmly, observing him. "I was already tempted to point my wand at your head. Don't waste time; go quickly and return swiftly."

"Impatience is never the mark of a noble pure-blood wizard," Snape responded to the Headmaster in a languid, aristocratic drawl. "By the way, Professor, the way to open the school gates—is it still the same?"

"As before," Dumbledore's voice was very serious. He stood and walked towards Snape. "Remember, do not harm anyone of the Malfoy family, Severus." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Their standing in pure-blood circles is pivotal, and they have extensive connections with various families. If you harm them—"

"I am not the Dark Lord," Snape scoffed lightly. "Don't make it sound as if I delight in murder." After bidding the Headmaster farewell, Snape—now in Abraxas Malfoy's guise—pulled up his hood and strode out of the Headmaster's office, heading for the school entrance.

After the familiar squeezing sensation of Apparition faded, Snape found himself standing on a country lane.

He had been here once a few years ago, for Lucius's birthday party. That visit had not been a pleasant experience; as a half-blood wizard invited purely on talent, he felt utterly out of place among Lucius's other friends.

In the distance, the wrought-iron gates and the outline of Malfoy Manor stood out prominently in the twilight. The grandeur and scale of the Manor were astonishing—towering spires, meticulously manicured gardens, and an ever-present aura of luxury.

The Malfoys never concealed their wealth, much like a peacock never conceals its tail feathers.

But he did not proceed immediately. As the residence of an ancient wizarding family, it would surely be laden with protective enchantments, especially intrusion charms—spells capable of detecting strangers and triggering alarms, akin to Muggle burglar alarms.

In the original story, Slughorn used such a charm near his Muggle residence and detected Dumbledore and Harry's visit.

Theoretically, Polyjuice Potion completely mimics a person, so it should deceive these protections, but theory does not always align with reality.

"Barty Crouch Jr. managed to fool Dumbledore with this stuff," Snape muttered to himself, deciding to take a gamble. "It should be fine."

He straightened his back, adopting Abraxas's arrogant posture, his steps becoming slow and deliberate. He walked towards the iron gate and tapped it lightly.

Fortunately, no alarms were triggered.

The wrought iron began to contort, the abstract scrollwork twisting into a hideous face.

"State your purpose," the wrought-iron gate said in a resonant, clanging metallic voice.

"It is I," Snape replied in Abraxas's voice. "Open."

"Ah, Father, why have you returned?" The metal face showed surprise, its voice immediately becoming respectful.

That address is rather pleasing, Snape couldn't help but think.

The gate immediately swung open silently, revealing a long driveway. Snape breathed a sigh of relief, but his vigilance did not waver in the slightest. This was only the first barrier; the true test lay ahead.

He proceeded along the gravel path, flanked by neatly trimmed hedges. Overhead, several white peacocks glided elegantly, like white spectres in the twilight.

Before he even reached the main building, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy emerged from inside, hurrying down the wide stone steps and almost running to Snape's side.

"Father," Lucius exclaimed, surprised. "We didn't expect you back today."

Narcissa curtsied gracefully, then took Snape's arm. "Why have you returned alone? Where is Dobby?"

"Don't mention it," Snape scoffed. "We'll speak inside."

The spacious and opulent drawing-room was dazzling. Crystal chandeliers shimmered on the ceiling, and the deep purple walls were adorned with portraits of Malfoy ancestors.

At the far end was a long table and a magnificent marble fireplace, above which hung a gilded mirror with exquisite scrollwork on its frame. Snape saw himself in the mirror—Abraxas's face, which radiated arrogance even without speaking.

"To the study," Snape said, leaving no room for argument, stopping Lucius from leading him to a seat by the fireplace.

This was information he had gleaned from Dobby—the Malfoys had a study, and Dobby's former masters always went there when discussing confidential matters.

The study was equally lavish, with ebony bookshelves filled with gilt-edged books and green velvet curtains reaching the floor.

Snape walked directly to the main chair and sat down. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged confused glances but obediently sat opposite him.

Narcissa waved her wand, summoning a tea set. "Would you care for some tea, Father?"

"Dobby is gone," Snape waved a hand dismissively. He dared not drink anything here; even if he wasn't worried about being poisoned, he didn't know Abraxas's tea-drinking habits—a small sip or a large gulp. Any subtle difference could betray his identity.

"What do you mean?" Lucius's eyes widened in shock, his teacup nearly slipping from his grasp. "Dobby is dead?" Narcissa grasped the back of his hand.

"No," Snape feigned indignation. "Dobby was freed by a half-blood mongrel named Severus Snape. What's more infuriating, the wretched house-elf actually refused to re-enter into a contract with the Malfoy family!"

"What?!" Lucius's face contorted with rage. "I thought Dobby would be proud to work for the Malfoys! It's an honourable position many house-elves dream of!"

Narcissa shrewdly glanced at her 'father and son' but remained silent. Snape noticed her fingers gently tapping the rim of her teacup, as if contemplating something.

"Father," Lucius suddenly said, "that mongrel Snape actually dared to write to me yesterday, asking for a meeting."

Snape felt a flicker of anger inside. I can call myself that, but where do you, Lucius, get the nerve to address me so? But for the sake of being called 'Father,' he chose to maintain his composure and feigned a curious response: "What did he want to meet about?"

"He falsely claimed in his letter that your life was in danger at Hogwarts and asked me to meet him at the Three Broomsticks. Utterly absurd!" Lucius said angrily. "Although I'd heard he inexplicably refused to join us, after all the care Narcissa and I showed him at school, who would have thought he'd turn out to be such an ungrateful ingrate!"

Well, that certainly took a turn! Snape, disguised as Abraxas Malfoy, is quite the actor! The Dursley dinner was one thing, but this is a whole new level of dangerous deception.

What do you think will happen next, with Snape pretending to be Lucius's father?