Harry Potter 1976 : I'm Snape ?! Time to Looksmaxx.

"How many wands have you broken this time, Severus?" Dumbledore asked as Snape and Lily wearily returned to 421 Vauxhall Road.

"Not many, not many," Snape replied bashfully. "There weren't that many Death Eaters this time."

He pulled four broken wand pieces from his pocket and tossed them casually into the fireplace. The flames surged several inches higher, crackling loudly.

Dumbledore gently waved his wand, and two steaming cups of tea appeared on the table, accompanied by a plate of lemon sherbet.

"Have some tea to warm yourselves," he said kindly, motioning them to sit, though his tone quickly grew serious. "But, Severus, I must remind you—the Death Eaters are related by blood or marriage to most wizarding families in some way or another."

Snape raised an eyebrow but said nothing immediately. He sipped the tea, then frowned and set the cup down. It was far too sweet, with an unmelted sugar cube still clinging to the bottom.

Lily held her cup with both hands, seemingly just to draw warmth from it.

"In the early years, when Voldemort still hid behind the banner of 'pure-blood pride,' many witches and wizards turned a blind eye," Dumbledore sighed. "Families like the Malfoys, Lestranges, Nott… even some neutral families covertly supported his cause. It wasn't until they began torturing Muggles and using the Cruciatus Curse on dissenters that the wizarding world started to change its stance. But even then—"

"Blood is thicker than water," Snape interrupted. "Those now condemning the Death Eaters probably still clink glasses with them at Christmas dinner."

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Bartemius Crouch at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is pushing an Emergency Powers Act to impose harsher measures against Voldemort's supporters."

"But if you want to continue your career at the Ministry," he fixed Snape with a sharp gaze, "I suggest restraint. Breaking a few wands now isn't a big deal, but causing irreversible casualties will affect your future."

"Then why is Crouch pushing these policies?" Snape noted that Dumbledore used Tom's given name, a sign they were in a secure location.

"He has no other choice," Dumbledore's voice grew low. "Crouch's rise in the Ministry depends on a hardline stance. New attacks happen daily.

"If he doesn't act decisively soon and lets chaos persist, it won't be long before he and Minister Mincin are blamed for weakness and removed—like the previous Minister, Eugenia Jenkins, who was dismissed for mismanagement."

"Crouch is drinking poison to quench his thirst," Snape nodded thoughtfully. "Once the war ends, no one will want a Minister stained with the blood of his own relatives."

"Though," Snape paused, a sardonic smile curling his lips, "Crouch has dedicated his entire life to becoming Minister of Magic. When all this is over, he probably won't get the job."

Dumbledore shot Snape a surprised look, blue eyes flickering with approval. "A keen analysis, Severus. Crouch is chasing a phantom he'll never catch. He just refuses to admit it. So, I hope you maintain some restraint."

"Don't worry, Professor," Snape waved his hand. "At least I'll wait until Crouch's new policies are official before making any rash moves. Someone taller needs to be holding things up at the top…"

Lily sat quietly in the armchair beside Snape, watching the exchange. Her tea had grown cold, but she seemed unaware.

Her emerald eyes were full of complicated feelings. This sharp-tongued, formidable Snape was nothing like the gloomy, silent boy she remembered.

For the first time, she seemed to meet the man she'd known for years. The Snape she recalled would never have been so candid before the Headmaster—as if they were equals.

"Professor, I have a question," Snape straightened. "Tonight's clash with the Death Eaters—does it count as successfully resisting Voldemort?"

"Why not?" Dumbledore blinked. "You repelled and captured Death Eaters. I'd say that's resisting him."

"Hmm… alright then," Snape's face twisted oddly as he rubbed his temple. "I suppose I need to join more Order missions in the future."

He had no desire to be "the one who resisted Voldemort three times."

Only then did Snape seem to remember the third person in the room and glanced at Lily. "Lily, do you want to come with us?"

"No…" Lily's knuckles whitened as she gripped her cup. Her voice was barely audible. "I need to… handle my parents' affairs…"

Her voice caught; she quickly bowed her head, red hair falling over her face.

"My condolences," Snape said quietly. "If there's anything I can do, don't hesitate."

Lily nodded slightly, still keeping her head down.

Over the following days, Snape deliberately bought a plastic Jerry the Mouse mask from a Muggle toy store and wore it during five Order missions.

Unfortunately, they caught no more Death Eaters, but on the bright side, Snape broke over a dozen more wands.

Among the Death Eaters, a warning spread of the "Ginger-Wand Slayer"—a masked madman who disarmed them with spells like Expelliarmus or Stupefy before snapping their wands in two.

In their last battle, Snape met a new problem: Death Eaters started tying their wands to their wrists with dragon heartstring threads.

When he habitually muttered "Depulso", the opponent staggered—but the wand remained firmly attached.

"Bloody hell," Snape muttered, quickly dodging a red curse as his wand traced a sharp arc. "Sectumsempra!"

Yet hitting those fine threads precisely with spells was nearly impossible, and he nearly ended up "wandless" in the thick of it.

After over a dozen tries, he finally cut through a thread.

As the black walnut wand sliced through the air, Snape fancied he heard a distant, heartbroken wail: "My wand!"