Harry Potter: I became Snape

Severus Snape uncorked the vial, and a wisp of strange, alluring fragrance drifted from its mouth.

"Take a whiff," he said, thrusting the crystal vial directly under Sirius Black's nose.

Sirius instinctively furrowed his brow and stepped back, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. Still, he couldn't resist inhaling.

"Amortentia?" he asked tentatively.

"Correct," Snape nodded lightly. "What do you smell?"

"What's it to you?" Sirius snapped, his tone sharp, refusing to answer.

The scent wafting from the vial stirred memories of the start of term, when he'd caught that same intoxicating aroma in Slughorn's classroom: the Forbidden Forest cloaked in mist after midnight rain, and the freshly mown grass of the Quidditch pitch.

James had asked him the same question back then, and Sirius had dodged it with an excuse.

He believed he and James would always be best friends. As a friend, he should support James in pursuing his own happiness.

"Who're you planning to use this on?" Sirius asked warily.

"Lend me a hair," Snape said, swiftly plucking a stray strand from Sirius's shoulder and dropping it into the vial. He gave it a gentle shake. "Now, it's tailored to you."

The Amortentia turned clear after Sirius's hair was added, and its captivating scent faded away.

Sirius took a few more steps back, his eyes brimming with suspicion.

"I don't need it," he said. "I don't need this stuff to charm girls."

"You've always been popular with the ladies," Snape remarked, eyeing Sirius with a puzzled expression. "But who said this was for a girl?"

Snape believed the dangers of Amortentia, the infamous potion crafted by the Dark Lord, were grossly underestimated. True, the books only showed girls slipping it to boys, but the potion's effects weren't limited by gender.

Take poor old Tom, for instance. He'd been happily in love with his beautiful girlfriend, Cecilia, until a witch handed him a spiked drink. Next thing he knew, he had a son named after him. When he came to his senses, there was no justice to be found, only a shattered life and a broken family.

Even more absurdly, by later years, Amortentia was openly sold at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, delivered straight to Hogwarts via owl post.

Seeing Sirius hesitate to take the vial, Snape pressed on. "James hasn't left the Gryffindor Tower in days, has he? He even skipped today's Quidditch match. Do you think he can bounce back from this blow?"

"Don't glare at me like that," Snape said evenly, his voice calm. "What's done is done. It's too late for words. Just like when you lot hung me upside down. You need to learn to accept the consequences, as I did."

Sirius remained silent, his face darkened, as though he'd caught the unspoken meaning in Snape's words.

"James must've told you he fancies Lily," Snape continued. "But think about it—if you were a girl as brilliant as her, would you accept someone who'd been made a fool of himself, baring his backside in front of the whole school?"

Sirius raised his wand, fury blazing in his eyes.

"Easy, now," Snape said, shrugging. "We're here to fix things. If James keeps spiraling like this, your best mate's done for. We need to talk solutions."

"I know you're his best friend too," Snape went on. "Sometimes, all that separates two people is a thin sheet of windowpane."

"I read it in a Muggle book—times in times like this, he needs a bit of positive stimulation to pull him out of that pain."

"Here…" Snape pressed the vial into Sirius's hand, his voice a devil's whisper. "Use it or don't. Just remember, this is to help him."

A damp, cold wind carried the scent of moisture, weaving through the branches of the beech tree.

Snape turned and left the lakeside. As he reached the castle steps, he glanced back, catching a faint outline of Sirius still standing in the shade of the beech.

He wasn't know if Sirius would use the potion, but he was certain of one thing: Sirius's eyes were only for James.

In the entrance hall, Snape spotted Filch and Madam Pince huddled together, whispering.

Curious, he perched on the outermost bench, straining to overhear.

If only he had one of the Twins' Extendable Ears.

"…Yes, I found her in the village… heard she was too frail, abandoned by her mother…" Madam Pince's voice drifted over, fragmented.

"Can I see her?" Filch mumbled. "Poor little thing… leave her to me, Irma, I'll take care of her…"

Snape leaned closer, engrossed, nearly tipping toward the door.

"Sit properly!" Filch barked, appearing at Snape's side, startling him. "If you're not eating, you can spend your time in my office!"

Filch picked out a few pieces of chicken breast and beef from his plate, then shuffled off, humming a tune.

When he reappeared, a tiny kitten trailed him, its dark gray and inseparable. He called her Mrs. Norris.

February gave way to March, the weather still damp but now blustery. Snape, Patrick Abbott, and occasionally Mipple would slip away from prying eyes to spend time with a shy, straw-haired boy.

The group, especially Abbott, never held back praise for little Barty. Abbott would've shoved a quill into Barty's hand himself if he could—without him, that essay on handling Dementors for Professor Gamp would've been a nightmare to finish.

At another library meet-up, Barty hesitated for ages before casually crumpling a scrap of parchment and tossing it at Snape's feet.

Snape pretended to knock a book off the table, and as he bent to retrieve it, he slipped the note into his sleeve.

When he looked up, Madam Pince's vulture-like face loomed over him.

"What did you do to that book, you wicked boy?" she screeched.

"Desecration!" Her face flushed crimson. "Defilement!"

She looked ready to have a heart attack. Snape scrambled to gather his things and bolted from the library.

He ducked into an empty corner and unfurled the note. In neat handwriting, it read a single, cryptic line: They want us to join now.

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