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Severus woke before dawn, momentarily disoriented by the blue hangings of his four-poster bed. For a heartbeat, he expected the familiar green of Slytherin dormitories—or worse, the dingy ceiling of his childhood bedroom at Spinner's End.
The crisp mountain air filtering through the tower windows grounded him in reality. Ravenclaw Tower. He was eleven years old. Again.
[TEMPORAL ORIENTATION COMPLETE]
[CURRENT OBJECTIVE: ESTABLISH BASELINE ACADEMIC POSITION]
Careful not to wake his dormmates, Severus slipped from bed and retrieved his mother's grimoire from his trunk. The leather-bound book seemed to pulse with subtle energy as he carried it to the window seat, where the first pale light of dawn provided just enough illumination to read by.
The grimoire was both familiar and strange. In his previous life, he had studied it extensively, but received it much later. Now, turning the pages carefully, he discovered differences—additional notes, missing sections, alterations that suggested this timeline wasn't an exact replica of his original past.
One page caught his attention. Where once had been a simple recipe for a Calming Draught, his mother had scrawled extensive modifications in the margins, along with a warning: "This version penetrates magical barriers. Use with caution. Some doors remain closed for reason."
Severus frowned. He had no memory of this variant from his previous life. Was it possible that more than just his own choices were different in this timeline?
[ANOMALY DETECTED] [UNKNOWN VARIABLE INTRODUCED]
[CATALOGUING DIFFERENCES FOR FUTURE REFERENCE]
"A bit of early morning reading?"
The quiet voice nearly made him slam the book shut. Turning sharply, he found Elara Vayne already dressed in her uniform, watching him with open curiosity.
"Family heirloom," Severus replied neutrally, closing the grimoire with deliberate calm. "I thought Ravenclaws respected privacy."
"Intellectual curiosity is our defining trait," she countered, settling on the opposite end of the window seat. "Privacy is merely a social convention."
Despite himself, Severus felt his lips twitch. Her bluntness was refreshing after years of navigating Slytherin's layers of subtext and Dumbledore's cryptic manipulations.
"My mother's research journal," he offered, calculating that a partial truth might satisfy her curiosity. "Potions, primarily. A family interest."
Elara nodded, her gaze shifting to the first rays of sunlight illuminating the distant mountains. "My father's the same with Arithmancy. Obsessive. Brilliant, but..." She trailed off, something vulnerable briefly crossing her features before she composed herself. "Anyway, I'm heading down early. First-day advantage."
"First-day advantage?" Severus echoed.
"Best seats in class, introduction to professors before the chaos, mental mapping of routes between classrooms," she explained as if it were obvious. "Coming?"
Severus considered his options. Solitude would allow him to continue examining the grimoire's differences, but establishing a working relationship with Elara might prove strategically valuable.
[SOCIAL OPPORTUNITY: POTENTIAL ALLY]
[RECOMMENDATION: ENGAGE]
"Five minutes," he decided, tucking the grimoire safely into his trunk.
Twenty minutes later, they entered the Great Hall, among the first students to arrive. A few professors sat at the High Table, including McGonagall and Flitwick, both looking remarkably younger than in Severus's memories.
"Professor Flitwick is our Head of House," Elara informed him unnecessarily as they took seats at the Ravenclaw table. "Dueling champion in his youth. They say he's part goblin, though it's impolite to mention it."
"Hmm," Severus responded noncommittally, his attention drawn to the Slytherin table where Lucius Malfoy had just entered, his prefect badge gleaming on his chest.
In his first life, Malfoy had been instrumental in drawing Severus into Voldemort's orbit, recognizing his talent for potions and dark magic. The older boy had offered protection, mentorship, and a path to power that had seemed irresistible to a half-blood from poverty seeking to prove himself.
Now, observing him from the safe distance of another house table, Severus noted the calculated grace with which Malfoy carried himself, the subtle arrogance in his posture. How had he ever mistaken such obvious performative superiority for genuine strength?
[HISTORICAL THREAT IDENTIFIED]
[RECOMMEND CAUTION IN ENGAGEMENT]
"Good morning!" Lily's bright voice pulled Severus from his thoughts. She slid onto the bench beside him, Gryffindor tie slightly askew, hair still damp from a morning shower. "I wasn't sure if we could sit at different tables, but nobody stopped me, so I suppose it's allowed?"
"Technically, house tables are only mandatory during feast nights," Elara supplied, studying Lily with the same analytical interest she'd shown Severus. "You're Evans, correct? You almost went to Ravenclaw."
Lily looked surprised. "How did you know that?"
"Logical deduction. You're friends with Severus who's clearly intelligent enough for Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat took longer with you than average, suggesting deliberation between houses. And you've chosen to sit at Ravenclaw despite being sorted into Gryffindor, indicating intellectual priorities."
"Oh." Lily blinked, then smiled. "You're very observant."
"She's very nosy," Severus corrected with a slight smirk, earning a narrow-eyed look from Elara that lacked any real heat.
"I prefer 'analytically thorough,'" Elara replied primly, buttering her toast with mathematical precision.
Lily laughed, the sound drawing attention from nearby tables. Severus felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. How long it had been since he'd heard that laugh—decades of silence, then the torment of memory. Now here she was, vibrant and alive, her whole future unmapped.
[PRIMARY SUBJECT ANALYSIS: POSITIVE EMOTIONAL STATE]
[MISSION PARAMETER: MAINTAIN]
"How's Gryffindor?" he asked, pushing a cup of tea toward her the way she liked it—milk first, then one sugar.
"Loud," Lily admitted with a small smile, accepting the tea. "Everyone's very... enthusiastic. The common room's all red and gold, with these enormous squashy armchairs. The girls in my dorm seem nice enough, especially Mary Macdonald."
Severus nodded, filing away the information. Mary Macdonald—who in his previous timeline would become one of Lily's closest friends, and later a victim of Mulciber's particularly cruel idea of a "prank."
"And that Potter boy wouldn't stop showing off, turning matchsticks into needles before Professor McGonagall even finished explaining the spell," Lily continued, rolling her eyes. "I managed it too, but at least I waited for instructions."
A hot flare of familiar jealousy surged through Severus before he ruthlessly suppressed it. Those emotions had poisoned him before. This time would be different.
"Speaking of schedules," Elara interjected, nodding toward Professor Flitwick, who had begun moving along the Ravenclaw table distributing timetables.
"First-years," the diminutive professor squeaked cheerfully when he reached them. "Ah, and a Gryffindor visitor! Excellent to see inter-house friendship so early."
He handed schedules to Severus and Elara, then peered at Lily. "Miss Evans, isn't it? Professor McGonagall has your schedule, but I believe your first class today is indeed with my Ravenclaws—Charms at nine o'clock. Don't be late!"
After breakfast, the three made their way to the Charms classroom, Lily returning briefly to the Gryffindor table to collect her timetable from McGonagall. As they navigated the shifting staircases, Severus felt an odd sense of déjà vu overlaid with novelty—the castle both achingly familiar and strange with this new configuration of companions.
"Are you both from wizarding families?" Lily asked as they climbed. "Sev's mum is a witch, but his dad's a Muggle. I'm Muggle-born, obviously."
"Half-blood," Elara replied. "My father's a wizard, mother's Muggle. They're separated. Dad's obsessed with magical research, hardly notices I exist. Mum's a mathematician, hardly notices anything but numbers." She delivered this information with clinical detachment, as if reciting ingredients for a potion.
Severus glanced at her with newfound interest. He remembered Elara Vayne vaguely from his first life—a quiet, brilliant girl who had gone on to work for the Department of Mysteries. They had rarely interacted, sorted into different houses and moving in different social circles. Now, hearing the subtle pain beneath her matter-of-fact description, he wondered how much depth he had missed in those around him the first time.
"I'm sorry about your parents," Lily said with genuine sympathy. "That must be difficult."
Elara shrugged. "It is what it is. Builds character, supposedly."
They reached the Charms classroom, finding seats together near the front as other students began to filter in. James Potter and Sirius Black arrived among the last, laughing loudly about something, hair deliberately mussed to appear as if they'd just dismounted broomsticks.
"Ignore them," Severus murmured when Lily's expression tightened with annoyance. "They feed on attention."
"Like psychological vampires," Elara added thoughtfully.
Lily snorted, her irritation dissolving into amusement. "You two are a strange pair, you know that?"
Professor Flitwick began the lesson with a roll call, followed by a brief introduction to Charms theory. Severus found himself half-listening, his mind cataloging the differences in this first day compared to his original timeline. The content was identical, but his position had shifted dramatically—Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin, seated beside Lily rather than across the room, with Elara as an unexpected addition to their dynamic.
When practical work began—the same basic wand movements he had once taught as a professor—Severus deliberately moderated his performance. Mastering the gesture instantly would draw unwanted attention; struggling would be equally suspicious for someone of his supposed background. He settled for competent progress with minor corrections needed, just behind Lily's natural aptitude.
"Excellent work, Miss Evans!" Flitwick praised as Lily's wand traced a perfect quarter-turn. "Five points to Gryffindor!"
[COMPETITIVE ELEMENT DETECTED]
[RECOMMENDATION: STRATEGIC ACHIEVEMENT TO MAINTAIN RAVENCLAW STANDING]
By the end of class, Severus had earned Ravenclaw five points as well, placing himself firmly in the professor's good graces without appearing suspiciously advanced. As they gathered their books, Flitwick called out, "Mr. Snape, a moment please."
Lily and Elara hesitated, but Severus nodded for them to go ahead. "I'll catch up."
When the classroom had emptied, Flitwick gestured for Severus to approach his desk. "I couldn't help but notice your wand technique, Mr. Snape. Quite unusual for a first-year. Almost... refined."
Severus kept his expression neutral, inwardly cursing his instinctive muscle memory. "My mother taught me some basics, Professor."
"Eileen Prince," Flitwick nodded, eyes twinkling with memory. "Brilliant witch. Particularly gifted in non-verbal casting, as I recall. I see she's passed on her talents."
"She wanted me prepared," Severus replied carefully.
"Indeed." Flitwick studied him for a moment longer. "Well, I won't keep you from your next class. But my door is always open if you find yourself... advancing faster than the curriculum allows. Ravenclaw House encourages individual growth alongside formal education."
"Thank you, Professor," Severus said, recognizing both the opportunity and the veiled assessment. Flitwick was sharper than many gave him credit for.
[WARNING: INCREASED SCRUTINY FROM FACULTY]
[ADJUSTMENT REQUIRED: MODERATE DISPLAY OF TALENT]
As Severus exited the classroom, he found not only Lily and Elara waiting, but also Lucius Malfoy leaning against the opposite wall with calculated casualness.
"Severus Snape," Malfoy drawled, pushing away from the wall with languid grace. "A moment of your time? Alone," he added with a pointed glance at the girls.
"Whatever you have to say can be said in front of my friends," Severus replied coolly.
Malfoy's eyebrow arched slightly at the defiance, but he recovered quickly. "As you wish. I merely wanted to express... disappointment that Slytherin House missed acquiring someone of your... heritage."
The emphasis on 'heritage' made Lily stiffen beside him. Severus felt her hand brush against his, a silent gesture of support.
"I'm quite satisfied with Ravenclaw, thank you," Severus responded, maintaining eye contact with the older boy.
"Perhaps." Malfoy's smile didn't reach his eyes. "But should you find yourself seeking more... ambitious connections, our circle remains open to those of the right... perspective, regardless of house affiliation."
"I'll keep that in mind," Severus replied neutrally.
Malfoy nodded, seeming satisfied with the non-committal response. "Your mother's reputation precedes you. The Prince bloodline, while not among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, carries its own... distinguished history. Particularly in certain specialized branches of magic."
With that cryptic statement, Malfoy inclined his head slightly and departed, robes billowing dramatically behind him.
"Well, he's thoroughly unpleasant," Lily declared once Malfoy was out of earshot.
"He's recruiting," Elara observed flatly. "My father warned me about that. Certain Slytherin prefects target promising half-bloods with ties to old families. They're building networks for after graduation."
Severus nodded, unsurprised. In his previous life, this same conversation had occurred in the Slytherin common room, where he had been far more receptive to Malfoy's overtures. The recruitment had been successful then, feeding his hunger for recognition and power.
"Let's get to Transfiguration," he suggested, deliberately changing the subject. "McGonagall takes punctuality seriously."
As they hurried through the corridors, Severus felt the weight of Eileen's grimoire in his bag, Malfoy's words echoing in his mind. The "distinguished history" of the Prince bloodline was indeed specialized—in exactly the kind of magic he might need to locate and destroy Horcruxes.
[POTENTIAL RESOURCE IDENTIFIED: MALFOY CONNECTION]
[WARNING: HIGH RISK OF TIMELINE CONTAMINATION]
[ALTERNATIVE PATH RECOMMENDED: INDEPENDENT RESEARCH]
The grimoire would be his starting point. Tonight, after his housemates were asleep, he would begin examining it properly, searching for the differences that might give him an edge in the coming years. If his mother had included different knowledge in this timeline, there might be a reason—a reason worth discovering.
Transfiguration passed in a blur of matchsticks and needles, Severus once again carefully moderating his performance to appear talented but not suspiciously advanced. McGonagall was even more perceptive than Flitwick; he could feel her sharp eyes tracking his wand movements, noting his deliberate mistakes.
At lunch, they sat at the Gryffindor table, attracting curious glances from Lily's housemates and open glares from James Potter and Sirius Black. Severus ignored them, focusing instead on the conversation between Lily and Elara about the theoretical underpinnings of Transfiguration.
"But surely there must be limits," Lily was saying earnestly. "If we could transfigure anything into anything else, wouldn't that break fundamental laws of nature?"
"Gamp's Law defines five exceptions," Elara replied. "Food, money, life, love, and information can't be created from nothing. But they can be transformed, multiplied, or manipulated if they already exist in some form."
"That's not in our textbook," Lily said, impressed.
"Advanced Transfiguration Principles, chapter three," Elara shrugged. "I read ahead."
Severus listened to their exchange with quiet appreciation. In his previous life, his friendship with Lily had been intense but somewhat isolated. Now, with Elara's addition, there was a new dynamic—three minds approaching problems from different angles, challenging each other in ways he hadn't experienced before.
[SOCIAL CONFIGURATION ANALYSIS: POSITIVE]
[UNEXPECTED VARIABLE: TRIPLE ALLIANCE]
[STRATEGIC ADVANTAGE DETECTED]
The afternoon brought Double Potions with the Hufflepuffs—a session Severus approached with both anticipation and caution. Potions had been his refuge in his first life, the one subject where his brilliance had been undeniable. Now, he would need to restrain himself, to appear talented but not impossibly so.
The Potions classroom was exactly as he remembered—dim, cool, with ingredients lining the walls and cauldrons bubbling softly. The familiar environment sent a pang of nostalgia through him. For twenty years, he had taught in this room, terrorizing students and occasionally identifying genuine talent.
Professor Slughorn bustled in, portly and jovial as ever, his walrus mustache perhaps a shade darker than in Severus's memory. He began with his usual enthusiastic introduction to the art of potion-making, culminating in a flourish toward several cauldrons at the front of the room.
"Can anyone identify what I've prepared here?" he asked, gesturing to a pearly white potion emitting characteristic spirals of steam.
Severus kept his hand firmly down, despite instantly recognizing Amortentia—the most powerful love potion in existence, inappropriate for first-years to even encounter. Beside him, Elara frowned slightly but also remained silent.
When no hands raised, Slughorn chuckled. "Not to worry! I wouldn't expect first-years to recognize Amortentia. This little demonstration is merely to inspire you—to show what you might achieve after years of dedicated study."
He moved to the next cauldron, containing a clear, odorless liquid. "And this one? No? This is Veritaserum, a truth serum so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets."
Severus watched the demonstration with mild amusement, remembering how impressed he had been the first time around. Now, having brewed each of these potions hundreds of times himself, the display seemed almost quaint.
Their actual brewing task was a simple Cure for Boils—the traditional first potion assigned to new students. Severus worked methodically, deliberately following the textbook instructions despite knowing several improvements by heart. Beside him, Elara worked with careful precision, her movements economical and focused.
Halfway through the lesson, a small explosion rocked the Hufflepuff side of the room, where a cauldron had melted into a twisted blob, its contents seeping across the floor. Slughorn hurried over, vanishing the mess with a wave of his wand while the unfortunate student stammered apologies.
"You added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire," Severus murmured to himself, the scene eerily familiar.
Elara glanced at him. "You've seen that mistake before?"
"It's a common error," he replied smoothly. "The textbook warning is easily overlooked if you're nervous."
When the class ended, Slughorn moved around the room examining their results. He beamed at Lily's cauldron. "Perfect pink smoke! Excellent work, Miss Evans! You clearly have your mother's touch with potions."
Lily blinked in confusion. "My mother's a Muggle, Professor."
"Oh!" Slughorn looked momentarily flustered. "My mistake, dear girl. I meant you have a natural touch, of course." He moved on quickly, stopping next at Severus and Elara's table.
"Well, well! What have we here?" He peered into both cauldrons, his expression growing increasingly delighted. "Two perfect potions! Absolutely textbook results!" He glanced between them. "Mr. Snape and Miss Vayne, isn't it? I'll be watching your progress with great interest."
As they packed up their supplies, Slughorn approached again, voice lowered conspiratorially. "I host little gatherings from time to time, you know. Small, select dinner parties for students who show particular promise. I do hope you'll consider joining us when invitations are extended."
"The Slug Club already?" Lily whispered as they left the classroom. "That's usually for older students."
"Slughorn collects people he thinks will be useful or successful," Severus explained, remembering the professor's transparent networking. "It's harmless enough, if somewhat self-serving."
"My father calls it 'cultivating human resources,'" Elara added dryly. "He does the same thing with research assistants."
They spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring the castle, Severus pretending to discover secret passages and shortcuts he had known for decades. The familiar halls felt different seen through eleven-year-old eyes again, the portraits and suits of armor like old acquaintances he hadn't realized he'd missed.
After dinner, in the Ravenclaw common room, Severus found himself drawn into a spirited debate about whether intent or wand movement was more critical in transfiguration. The intellectual atmosphere was refreshingly different from Slytherin's political maneuvering, allowing him to engage his mind without constantly watching for hidden agendas.
Eventually, the common room emptied as students retired to their dormitories. Severus remained in a quiet corner, pretending to read his Charms textbook while waiting for privacy. When only a few seventh-years remained, huddled over advanced Arithmancy charts, he slipped up to his dormitory.
His roommates were already asleep, their breathing slow and steady. Severus drew the blue curtains around his bed, cast a subtle silencing charm—simple enough that it wouldn't trigger the castle's sensors for underage magic—and retrieved his mother's grimoire.
By wandlight, he began to properly examine the book, page by page, noting where this version differed from the one he remembered. Some variations were minor—altered ingredients in familiar potions, different emphases in theoretical approaches. Others were more significant.
An hour into his study, he found a section that definitely hadn't existed in his original grimoire: "Shadow Walking: The Prince Legacy." The pages detailed an obscure form of transportation, similar to Apparition but using shadows as conduits between locations.
The Phantom Step, as our ancestors called it, predates modern Apparition. While Ministry fools claim Apparition superior for its precision, they ignore the Shadow Roads' unique advantages. No anti-Apparition wards can block the Phantom Step, for it travels not through space but through the gaps between realities.
WARNING: This magic comes from our Russian heritage, practiced in the frozen reaches where shadows stretch long across the snow. The British Ministry banned it in 1782 after Anastasia Prince used it to enter a sealed Wizengamot chamber. Our family agreed to abandon the practice publicly while preserving the knowledge privately.
For my son: Master this only in direst need. The Shadow Roads exact a toll on those who walk them too often. Your great-uncle Eduard used them extensively as a young man. By fifty, his own shadow had begun consuming him, and he finally vanished altogether during a new moon in 1943.
Severus stared at the page, mind racing with possibilities. An undetectable method of transportation that bypassed magical protections could prove invaluable for accessing hidden Horcruxes. The risk seemed significant, but calculated risks were nothing new to him.
[NEW ABILITY DETECTED] [STRATEGIC ADVANTAGE: HIGH]
[CAUTION ADVISED: POTENTIAL SELF-CORRUPTION]
The grimoire continued with detailed instructions for the Phantom Step, including the precise incantation, wand movement, and mental state required. Severus memorized each element, recognizing that this might be his first major advantage in the mission ahead.
According to the instructions, one began with short distances—stepping from one shadow to another within the same room—before attempting longer jumps. The process required shadow-casting light, absolute concentration, and a gradually increasing tolerance for the cold emptiness of the Shadow Roads themselves.
He closed the grimoire, mind spinning with implications. His mother had given him this book years earlier than in his original timeline, and it contained knowledge she had previously withheld. Why? What had changed?
[TIMELINE INCONSISTENCY DETECTED]
[POTENTIAL EXTERNAL INFLUENCE]
Tomorrow, he would write to Eileen, inquiring obliquely about why she had entrusted him with the family grimoire so early. Her response might provide clues about other differences in this timeline—differences he needed to understand.
For now, though, he needed rest. The emotional and mental strain of navigating this new/old life was catching up with him, his eleven-year-old body demanding sleep despite his adult mind's resistance.
As he stored the grimoire safely away and extinguished his wandlight, Severus reflected on the day's developments. New allies, new knowledge, new possibilities. The pieces were arranging themselves differently on the board, offering fresh strategies he hadn't considered.
In the darkness of his bed, the System's text glowed briefly:
[DAILY EVALUATION: POSITIVE PROGRESSION]
[MISSION STATUS: ON TRACK]
[WARNING: UNKNOWN VARIABLES INCREASING]
[PRIMARY DIRECTIVE UNCHANGED: PROTECT LILY EVANS]
Severus closed his eyes, allowing exhaustion to pull him toward sleep. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for tonight, he could rest in the knowledge that he had taken the first steps toward rewriting his fate—and perhaps, just perhaps, saving everyone he had failed the first time around.