Hogwarts i am snape

The new term started with a surprise for the sixth-year students: a large notice about "Apparition Lessons" had been pinned to the notice board overnight. 

Snape and Abbott had just entered the common room when they were drawn in by an excited buzz of chatter. "Wow!" exclamations burst from the crowd now and then. They, too, pushed their way towards the notice board. Students were already crowded around it, queuing up to sign their names. After some jostling, they finally managed to sign theirs. 

"Oh, don't be silly, you can't Apparate in here, not in the castle," a student reminded his excitedly gesticulating friend. 

"Well, that goes without saying, anyone who's read Hogwarts: A History should know that, shouldn't they?" another student replied a little smugly. 

"Indeed, I suppose no one but a troll wouldn't know that..." 

The students excitedly discussed everything about Apparition. After a while, Snape and Abbott finally managed to squeeze out of the noisy crowd and leave the dungeons, ready to have breakfast before class. 

"Severus has Apparated before," Abbott told Pandora with a proud expression outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Someone took him Side-Along Apparition last year, you know?" 

"I didn't," Pandora said cheerfully. "You know Severus better than I do." 

"I had a few Side-Along Apparition experiences last year," Snape quickly chimed in, his expression somewhat complex. "Believe me, it's not pleasant. You wouldn't like it. For a split second, darkness envelops you, as if countless invisible hands are squeezing you from all directions, and your chest feels tightly constricted by iron bands, making it impossible to breathe. You even feel your eyeballs being pushed back into your head, and your eardrums seem to be pressed deep into your skull... then, it's like being forcibly squeezed through a very narrow rubber tube. Only then can you gasp for air..." 

As Snape spoke, he unconsciously gesticulated to describe the sensation. Other sixth-year students nearby, hearing their conversation, gathered around, curious to ask Snape what Apparition felt like. Mary, in particular, bombarded him with a string of questions. As Snape answered, he inadvertently looked up and saw Lily in the crowd. She stood quietly, listening intently, her red hair particularly striking amidst the other students. He hadn't spoken to her all term since they parted ways outside Gryffindor Tower at the end of their fifth year. 

Of course, he didn't intend to strike up a conversation. It wasn't a matter of deliberately avoiding her or not; in Snape's mind, he always felt that the girl in his memories wasn't quite the same as the Lily standing before him, as if the one in his memory was a phantom shadow, not the same person as the real one. Perhaps it was as a saying from a later era went—"No one compares to you in my memory, not even the current you." He might need an opportunity to reacquaint himself with her. 

To get back to the point, even after Snape told everyone how uncomfortable Side-Along Apparition felt, the students didn't lose interest; instead, their faces were filled with awe and anticipation. It wasn't until Professor Grubbly-Plank deliberately coughed loudly several times that they reluctantly moved to their seats. 

"Quiet! Quiet!" Professor Grubbly-Plank raised her voice again, her gaze sweeping sternly across the classroom. "Do you want to be trembling with fear when you encounter a Dementor and face their Kiss?!" 

She abruptly turned and pointed to a drawing pinned to the blackboard. In the drawing, a wizard was huddled in a corner, his eyes vacant, as if his soul had been sucked out. 

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures on earth." Professor Grubbly-Plank's voice was deep and serious as she held up another drawing of a Dementor for them to see. The Dementor in the drawing was indistinct, its slimy and scabbed decaying limbs vaguely visible beneath its cloak. 

"They prefer to hide themselves under cloaks, frequenting the darkest, most squalid places. They live in decay and despair, and they suck peace, hope, and happiness from the air around them. Even Muggles can feel their presence, though Muggles cannot see them. When Dementors approach, all good feelings, all happy memories, are sucked out of you. If possible, a Dementor will keep sucking until you are like it... soulless and full of evil. After being kissed by a Dementor, you are left with only the worst experiences of your life, merely an 'empty shell'..." 

"Professor," a student asked, his voice trembling with fear, "I heard they're the Azkaban guards?" 

"Yes, they are there now," Professor Grubbly-Plank said, frowning. "That prison built on a lonely little island in the middle of a vast sea. Azkaban has never needed high walls or seas to keep prisoners confined, because the inmates are trapped in their own minds, unable to conjure a single happy thought, let alone try to escape. For centuries, the Ministry of Magic has used Dementors as guards for Azkaban prison; they seem to naively think this will solve the problem once and for all." 

Professor Grubbly-Plank sighed and shook her head. "This might be a bit redundant, but remember to obey the law and don't get sent to Azkaban. Over two hundred years ago, a Minister for Magic named Eldritch Diggory conducted an inspection of Azkaban. He discovered that the conditions inside the prison were so dreadful: Dementors sucked away joy and all other positive emotions. People died of despair, and the few who remained alive were mostly insane. That place had become a Dementors' paradise." 

"Do such monsters truly exist, Professor?" Peter Pettigrew, with his mousy grey hair, asked in a squeaky voice, a flicker of trepidation in his tiny eyes. "If they do, surely someone must control them?" 

"Unfortunately, Peter, their existence is beyond doubt. They are merely confined to Azkaban for now. As for your other question, on this point, I agree with Headmaster Dumbledore. Dementors have never truly been loyal to anyone. They only ally themselves with those who can provide them with more human victims. If I had to say who could control them, I believe they would be more willing to obey the Dark Lord's commands than the Ministry of Magic's." 

A collective gasp echoed through the classroom, as if an invisible Dementor was quietly lurking nearby, exuding its icy aura. Wormtail looked even more terrified, his body trembling slightly. He gnawed at his fingernails, appearing quite anxious. 

"So, is there a way to destroy them?" Lily's calm voice broke the oppressive atmosphere. "If there's no way to deal with them, I don't think Dementors will stay obediently in Azkaban. And besides, what's the purpose of this lesson then?" 

Professor Grubbly-Plank nodded approvingly at Lily. She stepped down from the podium and slowly walked among the students. 

"To this day, wizards have not mastered a way to completely destroy Dementors. All we can do is temporarily drive them away. Wizards who master the Patronus Charm can conjure a Patronus, which is a Dementor-repeller—a guardian that acts like a shield, standing between you and the Dementor." 

Professor Grubbly-Plank continued, "A Patronus is a positive force, an external manifestation of what Dementors feed upon—hope, happiness, the desire to survive—but unlike a real person, it doesn't feel despair, so Dementors cannot harm it." 

"It's important to note that the Patronus Charm is a very advanced piece of magic," Professor Grubbly-Plank warned everyone seriously, her gaze sweeping over each student's face. "Many accomplished wizards have failed to master it. Only a small fraction of you will learn it. More importantly, conjuring a Patronus in the classroom is entirely different from doing it when genuinely facing a Dementor." 

But her warning didn't have the intended effect; instead, it seemed to dispel the students' fear. Clearly, no one believed they would be the one unable to conjure a Patronus. 

"What does a Patronus look like?" Abbott asked curiously. 

"They usually take the form of an animal, one with which you have the strongest affinity," Professor Grubbly-Plank patiently replied. 

"How do you conjure it?" 

"Can there be two identical Patronuses?" 

The students asked questions one after another, and the classroom buzzed with renewed excitement. 

"Quiet!" Professor Grubbly-Plank had to return to the podium and forcefully slammed her hand on the desk, the 'thudding' sound quieting everyone again. 

"Every Patronus is unique to the wizard who conjures it," she announced loudly. "I have never seen two identical Patronuses. You need to utter a spell, and it will only work if you concentrate all your thoughts on a particularly happy moment when you say it." 

"The incantation is—" She cleared her throat. "Expecto Patronum! Remember, think hard about your happiest memory! Now, you may practice freely. Ask me if you have any questions." 

The difficulty of the spell exceeded everyone's expectations. The classroom was filled with a cacophony of "Expecto Patronum!" but most students' wands merely waved uselessly, yielding no results. Only a few managed to produce wisps of silvery-white gas from their wand tips, like thin mist over a morning lake, vanishing quickly. 

Snape stood up, racking his brain to find the happiest moment deep within his memories. Undoubtedly, the memories from his original body couldn't be used; they had to be discarded. As for his past life's memories, although that period occupied most of his life, looking back now, it was mostly filled with busyness and exhaustion. Growing up, schooling, working... someone always told him things would get better "after this or that," but there was always another "this or that" waiting ahead. There were happy moments during that time, but he had no confidence at all that those fleeting joys could summon a Patronus. Perhaps there was no need to even try, he thought. 

Ultimately, he chose certain moments from after he arrived in this world. 

"Expecto Patronum," Snape repeated silently. "Expecto Patronum." His thoughts drifted to an old set of Gobstones, then to a rather crudely made wallet... 

Suddenly, something shot out from the tip of his wand, looking like a silvery-white gas, swirling in the air. 

"Wow, mate!" Abbott exclaimed enviously. "You actually conjured something!" 

"Do you think that's enough?" Snape shrugged, a hint of self-mockery in his smile. "A puff of smoke won't deal with a Dementor." 

"You don't seriously think we'll actually have to deal with Dementors, do you?" Abbott waved his wand dismissively, an indifferent expression on his face. "They've been trapped in Azkaban for centuries." 

"Keep practicing, Abbott," Snape told him. "Who knows what might happen in the future? It's always good to be prepared." 

With that, he continued to recall happy moments over and over in his mind, silently repeating the Patronus Charm again and again. It wasn't until nearly the end of class that the Patronus Snape conjured began to solidify further from an amorphous cloud—a long, slender silver shape sprayed from the tip of his wand, writhing in the air. Although its shape was elongated and looked a little odd, not quite like the four-legged animal he expected. 

"What animal is that?" Abbott chuckled, a teasing note in his voice. "Is it my long-bodied Pygmy Puff?" 

"I can't be bothered with you," Snape retorted, rolling his eyes as he put away his wand. Looking around, Snape noticed that a few other students had also managed to produce silvery-white smoke. 

Pandora was making swift progress. Her Patronus was tiny, but it already had two long ears and was bouncing restlessly in the air. 

James and Sirius had also made great strides. Wisps of smoke emerged from their wand tips, forming some kind of beast. James held up his wand, continuously showing off his achievement to those around him. Sirius had already put his wand away, leaning lazily against the desk. His expression was haughty and bored. 

Wormtail watched them both with awe, his mouth agape. Whenever a wisp of white smoke emerged from James's wand tip, Wormtail would gasp and clap loudly. Lupin stood beside them, a look of frustration and helplessness in his eyes, holding his wand with a troubled expression, making no movement. 

Looking further on, Snape saw Lily. The thing that burst from her wand tip was not an amorphous cloud, but a dazzling, winged silver animal. Snape narrowed his eyes, trying hard to discern what it was. Perhaps it was a small bird? But without a doubt, it certainly wasn't a doe. 

 read more inpatreon

ilham20