---
Chapter 61 — Snape's Thoughts
Chapter 61 — Snape's Thoughts
Friday morning.
Severus Snape sat at the High Table, his expression as unreadable as ever while he idly sliced into his breakfast.
As usual, his black eyes drifted toward the two Potter boys.
The elder cub — Harry Potter — had, miraculously, arrived on time for once.
The younger cub — Darren Potter — sat a few places down, watching his brother with those bright, admiring eyes of his.
Snape's lip curled faintly.
Of course. Typical of that foolish boy.
So eager to look up to his brother — the same brother who'd barely tolerated him on their first day at Hogwarts.
Utterly hopeless, Snape thought with a cold snort, his knife stabbing through the steak so sharply that it screeched against the plate.
"Ah—Severus?" came a nervous voice from beside him. Quirrell's eyes darted nervously as he leaned closer. "Your… steak, it's… rather pulverized."
Snape blinked down. Indeed, the meat was shredded beyond recognition.
He grimaced and set down the knife, mentally mocking himself. Pathetic. Getting worked up over the Potters. Why should I care?
He told himself that he didn't. He was only concerned for their safety. That's all.
Just as he was about to return to eating, a loud exclamation erupted from the Gryffindor table.
Snape's eyes snapped upward, irritation flashing through them. "What now? Can't even finish one meal in peace?"
His gaze found the cause instantly — Harry Potter, standing beside Darren, gesturing animatedly.
Snape's jaw tightened.
So. Ignored him for a few days and now he's decided to pick a fight?
He drew his wand lazily, already considering the punishment.
A quick Expelliarmus, a month's detention scrubbing cauldrons — poetic justice. Nothing soothed him quite like forcing James Potter's son to clean potion stains.
But then he froze.
Wait. They weren't fighting.
They were… talking? And Harry was smiling?
Snape's expression darkened.
No. This is worse.
The realization hit instantly — Harry was inviting Darren to the Gryffindor table.
That single act was enough to make Snape's stomach twist.
Did that foolish boy have any idea what he'd just done?
To sit with another House during a collective meal was a direct insult to Slytherin loyalty.
To sit with Gryffindor, their oldest rival, was an act of betrayal.
Slytherin's unspoken rule was merciless — betray the House, and you face the House. Every member was entitled to "punish" the traitor.
Snape could intervene, yes… but doing so would mean Darren's expulsion from Slytherin altogether.
He'd be left without a House — a fate worse than punishment.
No… this can't be stopped, Snape thought grimly.
His expression grew colder, his heart twisting despite himself.
He'd have to allow the punishment to happen — carefully controlled, of course.
His eyes flicked toward Quirrell, who was pretending to sip his pumpkin juice while eavesdropping.
Snape's voice came out low and edged. "It seems I'll need to prepare… appropriate consequences for Mr. Potter."
"Ah, Severus," Quirrell stammered, his lips twitching under his turban. "Surely that's not… necessary. No need to be so… cruel."
Snape's head snapped toward him. The sneer that followed could have frozen fire.
Cruel?
The irony was sharp enough to taste.
That parasite under Quirrell's turban — he was the embodiment of cruelty.
And yet, he dared to speak of mercy?
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Funny. Coming from someone who knows cruelty rather intimately."
He turned away, ignoring Quirrell's startled look. His suspicions about the man had grown stronger — and now, they were all but confirmed.
He could feel the faint magical signature beneath the turban. The Dark Lord was stirring.
If he showed compassion toward Potter now — even the younger one — Voldemort would notice. And that could destroy everything.
He rose abruptly from the table, robes snapping behind him.
Moments later, he summoned Daphne Greengrass — the acting prefect and head of the Slytherin student council — to his office.
"I need you," he said coolly, "to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Darren Potter."
The girl froze, her blue eyes wide with horror. "Professor—what? I—I can't! That's Unforgivable! I'd be expelled—"
Snape's lips twitched into a humorless smile. "Spare me the dramatics. You and I both know Slytherins aren't strangers to darker magic."
Her expression faltered — fear, anger, and confusion swirling together. For a moment, Snape even saw a flicker of hatred.
Foolish, he thought darkly. Hatred toward your own Head of House? You'd already be dead if I were your enemy.
He leaned closer. "Do as I say. Officially, it never happened."
Before she could reply, he "accidentally" let a small silver ring slip from his robes onto the floor.
Daphne hesitated, then picked it up — and froze when it pulsed faintly with a protective enchantment.
Her eyes widened with realization. Snape saw the flash of gratitude that followed before he turned sharply on his heel and left the office.
---
Back in his private chambers, Snape was startled to find another presence waiting for him.
"Headmaster," he said coldly. "If I recall correctly, you should be at the High Table right now."
Dumbledore stood by the shelves, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, as though he'd been caught doing nothing more serious than sampling tea.
"Good morning, Severus," he said mildly. "Apologies. A touch of Apparition never hurt anyone."
Snape's wand was in his hand before the sentence finished. "Prove it."
Dumbledore only smiled and raised his wand — the Elder Wand, unmistakable even in the dim light.
Satisfied, Snape lowered his own. "Then speak, Headmaster. Why are you here?"
Dumbledore's eyes softened. "Because I wish to accompany you to Slytherin tonight — to witness Darren's punishment."
Snape's hand slammed against the desk, cracking the edge. "Witness? You want to watch him tortured by his own House?"
"No, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "I want to make sure he survives it."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Snape's expression shifted from fury to exhaustion. His shoulders slumped, and his voice came out rough.
"You're always like this," he muttered bitterly. "You never say the whole truth… and somehow, I still end up trusting you."
---
--
---
---
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like it ? Add to library!
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me!