Harry Potter: I became Snape

Seeing Dumbledore restrain Bob Ogden, Severus Snape didn't hesitate for a moment. He raised his wand and began clearing the tea and pastries from the table. Except for the teacup in Mr. Ogden's hand, the two cups they had used vanished completely.

With another flick of his wand across the tabletop, Snape wiped away every trace of their presence—fingerprints, stray fabric fibers from their sleeves—leaving the surface spotless.

"What are you doing, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his tone laced with curiosity and confusion.

"Erasing evidence of our visit, Professor," Snape replied rapidly, his words tumbling out like a string of firecrackers. "Hurry up and get the Veritaserum out."

"Once I'm done, you should double-check for any oversights. Oh, and when we arrived on the Thestrals, no one saw us, right?"

As he spoke, Snape lightly tapped his wand on the floor, and the faint, nearly invisible footprints disappeared.

"What on earth is going through your mind?" Dumbledore's voice rose, his beard and hair practically bristling with indignation. "I was only calming him down! Do you think I'm that sort of person?"

"Aren't you?" Snape raised an eyebrow, his expression one of genuine surprise as he countered.

"Sit down!" Dumbledore barked, brandishing his wand. An invisible force, like a pair of giant hands, pushed Snape back into his chair with a resounding thud.

After a moment, Bob Ogden's expression began to regain some life.

"Bob, don't be too nervous," Dumbledore said gently, his voice soothing. "I just want to discuss what happened back then."

"I…" Ogden clutched his wand tightly, his voice trembling with fear. "But…"

"I understand your concerns," Dumbledore said, his fingers interlaced, his blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles radiating sincerity. "Lately, the Death Eaters have been attacking their opponents everywhere, and their reach is growing."

"But that experience is useless…" Ogden said hesitantly, "I don't understand…"

"Professor, you brought me here for this?" Snape interjected, shrugging. "I agree with Mr. Ogden. I can't see how that memory could be useful."

"Indeed, Severus," Dumbledore said softly, glancing at the flowerbeds outside the window. "I brought you here only to learn a bit more about his past. I'm not expecting it to be critical, but it never hurts to know more."

Ogden sighed, his grip on his wand loosening slightly, his face etched with resignation. "You've come all this way… What do you want to know?"

"By the way, Mr. Ogden, you mentioned the Gaunt family had three members," Snape said, steering the conversation. "Do you know what happened to them?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Ogden replied, shaking his head and frowning as he sipped his now-cold tea. "But I'd wager Morfin is still locked up in Azkaban."

"Morfin's in Azkaban?" A faint, almost imperceptible note of excitement crept into Dumbledore's voice, and a glint flashed in his eyes. "Why was he sent to Azkaban?"

"It's a rather complicated story," Ogden said. "I didn't handle that case, but I heard Morfin killed a Muggle family—the Riddles, the ones I met during that assignment years ago."

Dumbledore cast a satisfied glance at Snape.

"Bob, I have one more request," Dumbledore said. "Would you be willing to share the memory of your visit to the Gaunt family? Just to ensure we haven't missed any details."

"Is that really necessary?" Ogden asked.

"I think," Dumbledore said, "if you extract that memory, its imprint in your mind will fade. That would make it less likely to cause you trouble, wouldn't it?"

"Well, I'm just a retired old man," Ogden said, his face contorted with conflict. "Albus, I want to help you, and I hope this will be useful. I suppose he has no reason to know I exist…"

Ogden fell silent for a moment before slowly standing and walking to a cabinet. He retrieved a slender-necked vial, his rough fingers brushing gently against its surface.

Returning to his armchair, Ogden shakily raised his wand to his temple. As a silvery thread of memory slipped into the vial, he murmured wearily, "Albus… take it. Don't let my fear be for nothing… I won't keep you for lunch…"

Snape and Dumbledore stepped out of Mr. Ogden's cottage. Outside, the trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves casting flickering shadows under the green canopy.

Snape glared at Dumbledore, his tone sharp with irritation. "Professor, we don't have to ride Thestrals back, do we?"

"I don't think so," Dumbledore replied lightly.

He pulled a pocket watch with twelve hands from his robes, raised his wand, and muttered, "Portus."

The watch trembled in his hand, emitting a strange blue glow before settling after a few seconds.

"Quick, place your hand on the watch," Dumbledore urged.

Snape hurried forward, grasping the peculiar watch alongside the headmaster.

"Three… two… one…" Dumbledore counted. "Here we go."

It felt as though a hook had yanked Snape from behind his navel, and he was soaring through the air.

After a dizzying whirl, he found himself standing side by side with Dumbledore in the familiar office.

Once steady, Dumbledore walked to a cabinet, retrieved a shallow stone basin etched with strange runes, and placed it gently on the desk.

He then took the slender vial Ogden had given him and poured the swirling, silvery memory into the Pensieve. The strands shimmered faintly as they spun in the basin.

"Come," Dumbledore said.

Without hesitation, Snape plunged into the Pensieve.

After falling and falling, summer sunlight blazed overhead. Snape instinctively squinted.

Before his eyes could adjust, Dumbledore landed beside him.

They stood on a rural dirt path, flanked by tall, tangled hedgerows, under a vast summer sky as clear and blue as forget-me-nots.

About twenty feet ahead stood a short, stout man dressed oddly: a striped swimsuit underneath a formal overcoat, with spats on his shoes.

This younger Bob Ogden wasn't yet balding, though his belly already strained the stripes of his swimsuit.

Following Ogden's steps, a wooden signpost emerged from the brambles. Two arrows pointed in opposite directions: Great Hangleton (5 miles) and Little Hangleton (1 mile).

They trailed Ogden closely, descending a steep slope. After some time, the view opened up, revealing a valley below.

Nestled within was a quintessential English village, its church and graveyard clearly visible.

On the far side of the valley stood a grand manor, surrounded by sprawling, lush green lawns stretching into the distance.

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