Harry Potter: I became Snape

Marvolo released his grip on Merope's hand.

Merope stumbled back like a discarded rag doll, collapsing into the shadowed corner by the window where she had been before. Her head hung low, her breathing labored, and her dry, tangled hair fell like a curtain, obscuring her face.

Seeing that she was unharmed, Ogden resumed his heated confrontation with Marvolo. His tone was firm, insisting that Morfin face justice:

"Morfin is to appear in court on September 14th to answer charges of using magic in front of a Muggle, causing said Muggle harm and distress—"

His words were cut off by a faint jingling of bells, the clatter of hooves, and cheerful laughter drifting in from outside the window.

Merope's head snapped up, her face pale as death, her eyes wide with fear and a tangle of complex emotions.

"Oh, what an eyesore!" a clear, melodic female voice called through the open window, so vivid it was as if the speaker stood right there in the room with them. "Tom, can't your father just tear down that wretched shack?"

"It's not ours," a young man's voice replied patiently. "The land on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that little cottage is owned by an old tramp named Gaunt and his children…"

The girl's bright laughter rang into the room again, accompanied by the growing clamor of bells and hooves.

"Tom," the girl's curious voice sounded once more, closer now, as though they were nearing the house. "I'm not seeing things, am I? Is that a dead snake nailed to the door?"

"You're not wrong," the man's voice confirmed. "Probably the work of old Gaunt's son. I told you, that boy's not quite right in the head. Don't mind it, dear Cecilia."

Curiosity piqued, Snape moved toward the grimy wooden door. With a grimace, he passed straight through the closed door and stepped outside.

On the path, two fine horses were turning to head back toward the main road. A sleek chestnut horse carried a handsome young man with dark hair, his features and profile eerily reminiscent of a young Lord Voldemort. Beside him, a beautiful girl on a gray horse rode alongside, the two of them chatting and laughing as they went.

The jingling bells and clopping hooves began to fade as they moved farther away.

Just as Snape turned to head back inside, a furious roar in Parseltongue erupted from the old house, dripping with rage and humiliation.

"My daughter—a pure-blood descendant of Salazar Slytherin—fancying a filthy, lowlife Muggle… You wretched little Squib, you vile disgrace!"

A piercing scream shattered the air. Ogden burst out of the house, clutching his head in panic, with Dumbledore following at a leisurely pace behind him.

Ogden, like a startled rabbit, bolted down the dirt path and onto the main road, where he collided with the chestnut horse.

Tom and Cecilia, catching sight of Ogden's disheveled appearance and peculiar attire, burst into peals of laughter.

Amid their bright, ringing laughter, Dumbledore approached Snape and gave him a gentle pat, signaling it was time to leave. He took Snape's arm, and together they soared through the summer sky, the world blurring into darkness before they landed softly on the carpet of the Headmaster's office.

Twilight had settled over the grounds like a gauzy veil, with leaden clouds drifting across the sky.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and several lamps flickered to life, their soft glow banishing the room's dimness.

"What happened next," Dumbledore said, settling behind his desk, "is that Tiberius told me Ogden returned to the Gaunt shack with reinforcements, subdued Marvolo and Morfin, and the Wizengamot later sentenced them. They served their time and were released."

"But from what Ogden implied," he continued, "Morfin was later sent to Azkaban again for murdering the Riddle family."

"Are you planning to visit Morfin in Azkaban?" Snape asked, taking a seat across from Dumbledore.

"In time," Dumbledore sighed. "The Order of the Phoenix has been keeping me busy, and I haven't even had a chance to introduce you to everyone yet. When the time comes, would you like to come to Azkaban with me?"

"No, thanks," Snape replied. "I'm not fond of that place. You go ahead. But I'm quite curious about the Gaunt shack. Don't leave me behind when you visit."

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded slowly. "This trip yielded more than I expected."

"Indeed, Professor," Snape agreed. "Another possible Horcrux, isn't it?"

"Well done," Dumbledore said, giving him an approving glance. "Though we still don't know the locations of the other three potential Horcruxes besides the diadem, this is significant progress. Having you involved, while occasionally stressful, does speed things up considerably."

Snape smirked. "Shall I fetch you some Muggle blood pressure medication, Professor?"

He was aware of Tom Riddle's diary but saw no pressing reason to mention it to the Headmaster just yet. That could wait.

"Professor," Snape said, his mind drifting to the ring etched with the Peverell crest, "do you still have Potter's Invisibility Cloak?"

"You recognized the symbol?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I returned the cloak to James over the winter break."

"Of course," Snape said lightly. "What wizard hasn't heard of The Tale of the Three Brothers? I even had a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard when I was a kid. But giving the cloak back to Potter—won't he just bring it to school again?"

"I've warned him," Dumbledore replied. "If the cloak is confiscated again, it won't be returned. I doubt he'll risk it."

"And you're sure that cloak is…?" Snape asked deliberately.

"Unique as it is," Dumbledore said, "I can see through it. So, I can't say for certain it's the Deathly Hallows cloak, though it's possible my magic is simply too advanced."

With the purpose of their trip fulfilled, Snape bid Dumbledore goodnight, eager to return to the warmth of his bed.

But as he stood to leave, Dumbledore called after him.

"Severus, lately when I've taken a wrong turn on my way to the bathroom in the early hours, I haven't stumbled into that Room of Requirement with its splendid chamber pots. Any ideas why?"

"Oh, really?" Snape said, his tone perfectly nonchalant. "No clue, Professor. Goodnight."