Harry Potter: I became Snape

A black-sailed ship rocked with the waves amidst the howling wind, carrying Snape and his companions toward Azkaban.

They stood on the narrow deck, icy, salty seawater occasionally splashing up and slapping against them.

Seeing this, Dumbledore swiftly waved his wand, and a transparent shield instantly formed above their heads.

As they pressed forward, the sky grew steadily darker, as if a massive black curtain were slowly descending, shrouding the once azure heavens.

An unnatural chill and pervasive mist crept in from all directions, prompting the trio to pull their traveling cloaks tighter.

Yet the cold still burrowed relentlessly into their bodies. An indescribable wave of negative emotion, like vines silently sprouting in the dark, began to spread through their hearts.

Snape's body trembled uncontrollably, and past miseries, as if dredged up by an invisible hand from the depths of his memory, swirled ceaselessly in his mind.

Before Dumbledore could act, Snape instinctively raised his wand. "Expecto Patronum!"

A silvery python surged from the tip of his wand.

This time, it was no longer the vague, indistinct form of before. Its solid body shimmered with strange, intricate patterns.

The python coiled affectionately around Snape, its tongue flickering in and out, hissing softly.

"Oh, a snake, is it?" Snape muttered under his breath. "I half-expected you to sprout antlers and eagle claws."

With the Patronus's appearance, the cold and despair dissipated within the radius of its radiant glow, and joy and hope rekindled in their hearts.

"You've summoned a fully-formed Patronus, Severus," Dumbledore said, gazing at the white snake with evident relief. "That's quite a comfort, though it is a snake."

"What's wrong with snakes? Aren't they rather charming?" Snape replied, gently stroking the snake's head.

The ship continued to pitch on the turbulent sea, the surrounding waters growing ever darker.

In the distance, a bolt of lightning tore through the pitch-black sky, and fat raindrops pelted the ocean's surface.

The lightning briefly illuminated the dark expanse, revealing the faint outlines of several Dementors gliding over the water, exuding an aura of cold despair.

After what felt like an eternity, the solitary prison, standing alone in the vast sea—a place known as the "Realm of Ruin" or "Abyss of Hell"—loomed before them like a dormant beast.

Under the crashing waves, Azkaban's cold, rough stone walls gleamed with an eerie, foreboding light.

The small boat docked at the shore. Amid the swirling wind and rain, the trio struggled to climb ashore.

"Do you think," Snape asked suddenly, steadying himself, "a scrawny, skin-and-bones dog could swim from here back to the Scottish Highlands?"

"Goodness, what an odd question," Dumbledore replied, casting a few charms to shield them from the elements. "Even a perfectly healthy, three-headed magical dog would likely find it impossible to swim to the mainland from here."

"It's nothing, Professor," Snape said, though inwardly he couldn't help but admire Sirius Black.

After enduring twelve years of imprisonment, what kind of resolve must have driven him to cross the North Sea to reach Hogwarts?

"Isn't there anyone from the Ministry guarding this place?" Snape asked, eyeing the towering walls and the desolate entrance.

"Would you really expect some lowly Ministry clerk to be stationed here long-term, Severus?" Moody growled, tapping his staff. "Let's get moving."

The trio stepped into Azkaban.

The prison's interior was no less grim than its exterior. Water dripped incessantly down the dank walls, and the torches embedded in them cast an inky-green glow, utterly devoid of warmth.

Many prisoners lay lifelessly in their cells, unmoving. If not for the occasional faint rise and fall of their chests, Snape might have mistaken them for cold corpses.

Only a few inmates still sat in the shadowy corners, muttering to themselves.

As they passed one cell, Snape abruptly stopped, then quickly doubled back.

"What is it?" Moody whispered, his tone tinged with caution.

"I know him," Snape said, his expression complex.

In the cell sat Mulciber, his old dormmate.

Mulciber seemed to sense their presence. His dull, lifeless eyes scanned the bars aimlessly, his lips moving silently: "Help… help me…"

It appeared Mulciber hadn't been here long; he hadn't yet lost all desire to escape or survive.

"Let's go," Snape said, choosing to move on. "Back when people asked for my help, I'd always say, 'Sure, sure,' but then I'd forget to follow through.

"That wasn't great. Now, if someone asks for help, unless they're close enough that I genuinely want to help, I just say, 'Sorry, I'm not interested,' and walk away.

"For someone with a tendency to please others, this is my way of practicing honesty and courage."

"Mr. Snape," Dumbledore leaned in, whispering, "I hear you have a spell to silence people. Care to teach it to me? I could use it right about now."

"I'll shut up, Professor," Snape said hastily, miming zipping his lips with his thumb and forefinger.

At that moment, an eyeless Dementor glided past, seemingly drawn to the faint trace of happiness emanating from them—a rare scent in this prison. It drifted toward them.

Before Snape could react, the silver snake coiled around him sensed the threat and shot forward with a hiss.

It wove its body into a cage, trapping the Dementor within.

Black smoke sizzled from the Dementor's form. Though it made no sound, the trio could almost see it writhing in agony.

Moments later, all that remained was a tattered black cloak; the Dementor had vanished completely.

"Professor," Snape said, stunned, turning to Dumbledore, "aren't Dementors supposed to be impossible to destroy?"

"I suspect," Dumbledore replied softly, "that the radiance of your Patronus, like the first light of dawn in the east, carries an extraordinary power."

"Then you must be the setting sun in the west, Professor," Snape shot back, rolling his eyes. He distastefully gathered the cloak from the ground and pressed on.

"Here," Snape said, pointing to a frail, withered house-elf behind the bars. "I think this is Mipple."

————

Supporting me on Patreon to gain early access to advanced chapters and enjoy expedited updates. Your support is greatly appreciated.

pat-reon .com/Dragonhair

(Just remove the hyphen - and space, to access Patreon normally.)