HP: Supreme Potion Collector [Original Female Protagonist]

"Snivellus, stop right there!" Sixteen-year-old Sirius Black sneered, his chin held high as he looked down at him with disdain. A tie hung carelessly around his neck, and his wand was gripped loosely in his hand.

"First-years, this has nothing to do with you. Scram." Sixteen-year-old James Potter adjusted his glasses and waved his wand dismissively at Orli Waters, as though shooing away an insect.

Snape was just beginning to draw his wand from his robes, but his movements were too slow, his sixteen-year-old body uncooperative and unfamiliar.

His wand had barely reached halfway when Potter shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

The wand soared twelve feet into the air before landing with a soft thud in the grass behind him. Black erupted into a sharp, mocking laugh.

"What's the matter? Looks like even with a new girlfriend, you're just as useless as ever!"

No, no, not like this… not again…

Snape lunged to retrieve his wand, only to be tripped by an "Impedimenta" spell from an unknown source, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Potter's voice rang in his ears: "Levicor—"

Snape's face turned ashen. He cast one last glance at the leaden sky of his dream before clenching his eyes shut, silently begging for the dream to end. But instead, he heard Waters' crisp, resolute voice casting a spell: "Sectumsempra!!!"

His eyes flew open. Orli Waters stood with her wand raised, and a deep, bloody gash appeared on Potter's shoulder. The dreaded incantation remained unfinished, leaving him grounded.

"You vile little Slytherin…" Black, incredulous, pointed his wand at Orli Waters. "Incendio—"

"Petrificus Totalus!" This time, Snape was quicker. He snatched up his wand and cast the spell before Black could react.

After that, the dream became a haze. He saw his dream-self and Orli Waters driving away the four tormentors. Their retreating figures vanished down the path, their bodies marked with various bleeding wounds. Beside him, Waters' trembling voice broke the silence:

"Senior… are we going to be expelled?"

He extended a hand, clasping her cold fingers. He wanted to reassure her, but even he felt his words lacked conviction. Potter, Black… they were always Dumbledore's golden boys…

"If we get expelled…" Snape heard his sixteen-year-old self summon all his courage to finally utter the words, "Will you come with me?"

The bubble of the dream burst with an audible pop. He never heard Waters' answer.

He remembered the scene upon waking from the dream:

The bedroom was steeped in silence at 3:30 in the morning. No light, no sound. It took him several seconds to accept the harsh reality—he was 34 years old, and his beautiful dream would never come true.

Forcing himself out of bed, he lit his wand and gazed at the ugly, indelible Dark Mark on his arm…

Just then, it felt as though someone had nudged him, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

#Dumbledore

"Severus? Severus?"

Snape snapped his head up, realizing the conference room had fallen silent, and all eyes were on him. Dumbledore had apparently called his name several times, and Flitwick, seated beside him, had gently nudged him.

#Dumbledore

"What were you thinking about just now, so deeply engrossed?"

Dumbledore asked with a smile, his gaze drifting to the chaotic parchment in front of Snape. The most prominent letters scrawled on it were "O.W."

Snape froze for a moment before hastily adding an "L" to the end.

#Snape

"Nothing. I was just contemplating the students' O.W.L. exams."

He replied curtly.

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