Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 1 The Prince's Rebirth
"—Call me a Mudblood? But you call all people of my birth Mudbloods, Severus. How am I any different?"

At the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, Severus Snape blinked sharply and saw a girl with bright, sparkling green eyes.

She glanced at me disdainfully, then turned and crawled into a hole.

A thick wooden board then closed in front of him, covering the opening.

On the wooden board, a plump woman yawned impatiently.

"Alright, alright, go back to your dorm." The plump lady mumbled sleepily, "Students shouldn't be loitering in the corridors at this hour."

Wait, where did I get this?
A sharp pain suddenly pierced Snape's head, as if it were about to split his head in two.

His vision blurred, and with a thud, he collapsed to his knees, elbows on the floor, his whole body trembling.

A jumble of memories surged through Snape's mind: Spider's End, Hogwarts, the Flying Spell, Lily Evans...

The images flashing through his mind were like broken puzzle pieces; these strange yet familiar scenes were like sharp blades, giving him a splitting headache.

After an unknown amount of time, the pain finally subsided. He weakly raised his head and finally realized his situation—he had transmigrated.

This is the Gryffindor Tower.

The girl who left was Lily Evans.

His current identity is Severus Snape.

Sorting through his jumbled thoughts and merging memories, he confirmed one fact:
This afternoon, after the OWL exam, still reeling from the humiliation inflicted by James Porter, he uttered that unforgivable word to Lily.

Just now, he was making his final attempts to defend himself and salvage the situation.

But obviously, he failed.

As the original story goes, Snape and Lily parted ways from that point on.

"Lily..." he murmured softly, "How could this happen..."

Two conflicting emotions raged within him. After learning the ending, he even considered rushing into the Gryffindor dormitory to explain everything to Lily.

However, another voice told him that if he actually did that, he would only make things worse.

At this moment, those bright green eyes became somewhat blurry in his mind; he couldn't distinguish what his feelings for Lily truly were...

Is it love? He wasn't sure.

Was it longing? He didn't know.

Memories of the past seem so close, yet so distant...

Under the dim light of the torches on the stone walls of the corridor, Snape staggered toward the marble steps.

Not long ago, he was happily playing "The Legacy of Hogwarts" at home.

He simply put two drops of eye drops into his dry eyes while he was busy searching for targets for his curses on the map with the fifth-grade transfer student.

Unexpectedly, in the blink of an eye, they found themselves at Hogwarts in the summer of 1976.

After instinctively skipping the step that would disappear, he leaned against the stone steps, sorting through the complex and turbulent memories in his mind.

"I haven't called home for over a week... and I haven't finished writing the monthly report yet... what should I do next...?"

The quiet air was so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

"But, think positively."

After an unknown amount of time, he finally reached into his robe and pulled out a wand made of ebony and the heart nerve of a fire dragon. With a gentle wave, a beam of light emanated from the tip of the wand.

"magic."

Gazing at the flickering light, Severus Snape murmured wearily:

“Since we’re already here… well, from today onwards, I am the new ‘prince’.”

"Knox." The glow on the wand went out.

He pulled up the sleeve of his left arm to check his arm. Fortunately, there was no Dark Mark on it yet.

Snape ventured deeper and deeper beneath the castle's grounds until he came to a bare, damp stone wall.

He lowered his head and pondered for a while before remembering that the new password for this week was "Forever Pure".

Ah, "forever pure"?
Isn't Tom Riddle a mixed-race man too?

Snape rolled his eyes at the empty wall.

As he softly uttered the command, a stone door hidden in the stone wall slowly opened.

He descended the spiral staircase covered with tapestries.

Slytherin's common room is a long, narrow, and low-ceilinged basement.

The walls and ceiling were made of rough stone, and round, green-glowing lamps were chained and hung from the ceiling.

Even in summer, the temperature in the basement is not high.

Beneath an intricately carved fireplace in front of him, a fire crackled and popped.

The warm red glow of the fireplace and the green light from the lamps illuminated the figures of several Slytherin students sitting in carved armchairs.

Aside from a few younger students, Snape saw one of his roommates—Patrick Abbott.

He sat alone to one side, flipping through a thick, leather-covered book, "Advanced Runic Translation," under the lamplight.

Abbott had never been interested in, and even loathed, the so-called humor of Muggle-born wizards—Murcyber and Avery.

He didn't even give Snape a kind look.

As a pure-blooded Slytherin of the Twenty-Eight Holy Clans, Abbott's attitude was quite unusual.

Ignoring the curious stares of others, Snape walked toward the boys' dormitory on one side and turned to enter the washroom.

The silver lamps in the bathroom emitted a dark green light as well.

The lake water lapped gently against the window at the far end of the washroom, and occasionally several large, dark shadows swam past outside the window.

Snape scrutinized the "new face" in the mirror and couldn't help but mutter to himself:

"Where is the darkness? Why cast a Black actor?"

"While James is certainly despicable, you can't wrongly accuse him of being a racist..."

He looked somewhat thin in the mirror, but could still be considered muscular and strong.

His face was pale, like a plant that had been growing in the dark.

His long, straight, greasy black hair, high nose bridge, and nose tip that curved downwards into a prominent hook.

Suddenly, the shame of the day resurfaced uncontrollably in Snape's mind.

Beech trees... because of boredom... snot... suffocating soap bubbles... drooping robes... cheers and laughter from the crowd... stinky little mud puddles...

The memory made his breathing tremble uncontrollably, the muscles in his face seemed to go numb, and his eyes were filled with rage.

In a daze, the reflection in the mirror and the figure in front of the mirror seemed to gradually merge together.

Snape slowly raised his wand, ran one hand through his hair, and with the other hand manipulated the tip of the wand, gently tracing it across his hair in the light.

Strands of hair drifted down.

Dark eyes staring into dark eyes, Snape muttered to himself, "James Potter, this isn't over between us yet..."

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(End of this chapter)