NOTE :- this chapter is side story , same as earlies ::-Snape's Memories
--
Chapter 219 — I'm Not a Nanny, Again!!
Snape despised himself so thoroughly that he didn't even attend the trial of the Potter brothers.
What was he supposed to do there?
Listen once more to the horrors Potter's cub had endured?
Instead, he shut himself in his office and graded essays with cold, mechanical efficiency.
By the time the trial ended, term would be starting again.
Snape thought, bitterly, that it was almost time to face another round of students whose brains were stuffed with nothing but mustard grass.
But the Potter cub… had actually admitted to every charge?
He read the account in the Daily Prophet and nearly slammed the paper into the fire.
Was the boy mad?
Did he want to go to Azkaban?
Before he could stew further, Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, swept in with a message.
A note, summoning him to intercept the Potter cub outside the Headmaster's office.
One look at the boy and Snape's stomach dropped.
"Potter!"
"Where do you think you're going? Get inside."
He reached out instinctively to seize the boy's arm.
But Darren moved back—quietly, effortlessly.
Expressionless.
Those green eyes held no waves at all.
For a heartbeat Snape saw Lily.
Lily, staring at him with that same hollow calm after every apology he'd ever offered too late.
He was the one who made this child look at him like that.
He was the one who turned this boy against him.
Snape had expected to accept it with indifference.
He discovered, instead, that he couldn't control his temper.
Even Dumbledore looked momentarily startled.
But the Headmaster didn't comment.
He simply invited Snape to watch the memory ball with him.
Snape had already heard rumors—Death Eaters supposedly released the recording, flaunting how they had tortured Darren Potter under the Ministry's and Dumbledore's blind eyes.
When the memory played, Snape's nails dug into his robes.
He watched Darren forced to kneel, forced to comply, forced to endure the Imperius Curse and other tortures.
He also watched Darren fight back—chasing down the Death Eaters, nearly overpowering them all.
Until Flint freed the wrong captives, believing Darren had come to save him.
The moment of relief vanished instantly when the Death Eaters killed Flint to threaten Darren anew.
Darren kept begging them to stop hurting others, offering himself up again and again.
Foolish.
Kind.
Self-destructive.
Snape finally understood why the boy's spells came out the way they did—why Darren always took the brunt of the damage.
He had been shielding everyone else.
Dozens of victims, yet he was the most broken.
Even the students who died were killed swiftly.
Only Darren suffered torture upon torture.
The images burned into Snape's mind until he nearly lost control of his own magic.
How had the boy survived?
And Dumbledore wanted Darren to watch this again?
To tear open those wounds?
Snape wanted to grab the kindly old man by the collar and rip away the mask of benevolence he wore.
If Dumbledore gave Darren even half the care he gave Harry, how could the boy have ended up like this?
He remembered the lifeless Darren he'd met at the door.
Snape almost stormed at Dumbledore right then, demanding he look at what his choices had created.
"Enjoying your control, are you?" Snape muttered bitterly.
Back in his office, he couldn't sit still.
He told himself he ought to treat Darren the same way he treated Harry now—fairly, consistently—if only the boy would live long enough.
But every time the memory ball flashed across his mind, pain swallowed all reason.
No wonder Darren was like this.
Even an adult couldn't survive that kind of torment intact.
Darren was just a gentle, foolish child.
Snape lost focus so many times his cauldron exploded repeatedly.
He nearly marched out to join the Aurors, wand drawn, to hunt Death Eaters himself.
If he could, he would cast Cruciatus on every last one of them and let them learn the meaning of agony.
He was preparing another potion—one that was halfway to blowing up—when Harry Potter suddenly barged in with Miss Granger and Ron Weasley.
Absurd.
Harry Potter, voluntarily entering his office?
Snape opened his mouth to sneer, but Miss Granger cut him off, breathless.
"Professor—Darren Potter—he's not responding. We asked the house-elves to tell him to come out, but it's sunset already and he still hasn't appeared."
Snape's heart lurched.
The cauldron hissed and detonated behind him.
"Damn it!"
He didn't even bother cleaning it.
He sprinted toward the Slytherin common room and blasted Darren's door off its hinges.
The boy jolted awake, staring at him in confusion.
Not blank.
Not hollow.
Just startled—almost like his old self.
Snape froze, caught off guard by his own relief.
"Potter's looking for you," he muttered awkwardly, then fled the room.
The Potter cubs—every single one—were going to be the death of him.
Outside, he cast a Disillusionment Charm and shadowed Darren, just to make sure Potter didn't say something idiotic that would push the boy over the edge.
Harry, of course, bungled the conversation immediately… and somehow Darren still believed him.
Snape noticed Darren seemed slightly more alive—but when the boy opened Fudge's letter, something changed.
Darren fell back into that deadened state.
Snape read the letter several times.
Nothing suspicious.
Nothing harmful.
Harry wasn't hiding anything either.
He reported it to Dumbledore.
The staff quickly agreed—Snape should accompany Darren to the Ministry tomorrow.
They needed to make sure the boy wasn't quietly thrown into Azkaban.
"Severus," Flitwick said, almost teasing, "you should talk to him tomorrow. That child respects you deeply. Perhaps because you were the first professor to pat his shoulder—his eyes practically shine when he sees you!"
Snape bristled.
"I am not a nanny. I don't care what the Potter cub thinks!"
The boy had already drawn a line between them—probably saw Snape as nothing but a vicious teacher.
Respect?
Nonsense.
It was a miracle Darren didn't outright hate him.
---
---
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
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!