Hogwarts i am snape

Sirius Black stood alone by the window in the Gryffindor Tower, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the cool crystal vial in his pocket. The night wind poured in through the half-open window, messing up his black hair, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. All his attention was fixed on that potion—that vial of Amortentia, capable of changing everything.

"Take it—whether you use it is up to you—remember, this is to help him—" Snape's devilish whisper seemed to echo in his ears.

Sirius gently closed the window. He should have smashed that vial of Amortentia on Snape's hooked nose right then and there, but Snape held a crucial leverage point. Illegal Animagus forms. That secret was enough to get all three of them expelled, and even face Ministry of Magic trials.

"Daydreaming again?" Remus Lupin's gentle voice came from behind him, interrupting his thoughts.

Sirius didn't turn around, only seeing Lupin holding a book in the blurred reflection of the window.

"Where's James?" Sirius asked. "He should be done with his detention, shouldn't he?"

Remus sighed, placing his book on the nearest table with a dull thud. "After finishing Filch's tasks, he went to find Evans. Slughorn's Slug Club has an event tonight, you know." He paused, a slight frown on his brow. "Though I don't think he was invited."

"Doesn't he understand that girl hates him?" Sirius turned around, saying somewhat irritably, "Ever since that Duelling Club—"

"Shh!" Remus nervously looked around, even though there were only a few younger students playing Wizard's Chess in a corner of the common room, their attention completely fixed on the battling pieces on the board. "Don't talk about that here," he warned in a low voice, the fine lines around his eyes making him look much older than his actual age.

---

Sirius irritably ran a hand through his hair, feeling a fire burning in his chest. Recent troubles seemed endless; those carefree days were slowly fading away. His best friend, James Potter, who was like a brother to him, was facing unprecedented setbacks in his pursuit of Lily Evans, and it was all because of that damn Snivellus.

Memories flooded back. Last summer, when James had hung that gloomy Slytherin boy upside down from a tree, and that fool had actually called Lily a "Mudblood," James had triumphantly declared that he no longer had to worry about Lily and Snivellus's friendship.

"She might say I'm obnoxious, stupid, or even disgusting," James had grinned then, his black hair dishevelled, his glasses askew on his nose, looking like he'd just dismounted a broomstick. "But at least I don't call her a Mudblood."

"So, lads, I think I definitely have a chance to win her over! And—" he mysteriously lowered his voice, "I have a feeling Evans secretly fancies me, she's just hiding it well."

Sirius had fully agreed with this viewpoint at the time. After all, how many girls could resist the charm of someone like James—a star Quidditch Chaser, whose family vaults were overflowing with Galleons, the pure-blood heir to the Potter family, and the most popular boy in Gryffindor? Even he himself was sometimes swayed by James's innate charisma—that effortless confidence, that smile that could brighten even the gloomiest sky.

According to James's analysis, it was almost certain that Evans would become Head Girl in their seventh year, so he'd best aim to become Head Boy. That way, they would inevitably have many opportunities to interact, and in formal settings that Evans couldn't refuse.

"What's the point of girls?" Sirius had said to James then, not understanding why James was so fixated on one girl, merely shrugging. "Spending time with them is nowhere near as fun as us having a laugh together—"

Staring at the younger students playing Wizard's Chess, where one side's bishop piece smashed the opponent's rook to bits, Sirius bitterly wondered how things had come to this. He had once thought that while Evans wasn't particularly attractive, she was certainly a bit better than average girls. Since his best friend liked her, perhaps he could try to accept her later. Then, perhaps the few of them could even eat together, like a family, just like those summers spent at the Potters' house.

But the beautiful past, present, and future seemed to have abruptly ended. After that incident, unexpectedly, Snape seemed to have transformed. He was no longer the gloomy, greasy, unhygienic Slytherin freak he once was. Instead, he had cut his hair short, made many new friends, distanced himself from those extreme pure-blood supremacists Lily detested, became Head Boy, and—most surprisingly to Sirius—he actually started washing his hair regularly. Sirius still remembered the unfamiliar fresh scent when Snape had leaned close to speak to him after that Duelling Club. It wasn't the common wizarding shampoo scent, nor the kind the Potters used. A thought flashed through his mind: could Snivellus be using Muggle products?

However, Sirius also admitted that no matter how much Snape changed, there was one constant: his hatred for James. He remembered a late night last term when James had snuck out with their jointly made Marauder's Map and the ancient Potter family Invisibility Cloak. Sirius, half-asleep, had seen James tiptoe out, a mischievous grin, typical when planning a prank, on his face. Before dawn, he was woken by a faint noise and found James sitting on his bed, covered in dirt, his face terribly grim, even a crack in one of his spectacle lenses.

"What's wrong?" Sirius, still groggy, had asked, climbing out of bed. James only shook his head, saying nothing. Sirius had never seen him like this—James was always the one who was eternally optimistic, always able to find a laugh. Worry prompted Sirius to move closer to check if James was hurt. He reached out to touch James's shoulder, but the other boy dodged his hand. Thankfully, apart from being a bit dirty, James seemed unharmed. Their movements woke Remus and Peter, and the three gathered around James's bed, asking him what was wrong.

"Don't meddle!" James suddenly erupted in anger, standing up and shouting. But then, he deflated like a punctured balloon, slumping onto the bed and burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry," James whispered hoarsely. "I lost the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak."

"What?" Peter gasped, his small eyes wide.

"How did you lose them?" Sirius pressed, concerned. The Invisibility Cloak was a family heirloom of the Potters, and James had always treasured it.

"They're lost, just lost!" James clutched his head in anguish. "Something happened, don't ask anymore." The three exchanged glances, wisely choosing silence.

"It's alright," Remus gently comforted. "The Marauder's Map is gone, it's gone."

"Yeah," Sirius echoed, deliberately avoiding the topic of the Invisibility Cloak. "We remember all the secret passages anyway." He knew James must be feeling much worse than them right now; he truly didn't know how he'd explain this to Mr. and Mrs. Potter.

The loss of the Marauder's Map was regrettable, but compared to the joy James brought him, it was a trivial loss. As long as James was alright, they could still be happy as before. Even if they could never replicate that magical parchment, it didn't matter—after all, its very creation had been a miracle. When they had tried to map out Hogwarts' structure and secret passages on the parchment, adding personal information and hints, the entire castle seemed to have unexpectedly come alive. An invisible force pressed down on them, the air growing thick. When the pressure disappeared, countless moving dots magically appeared on the map, precisely marking everyone's location and name. The four of them stared dumbfounded at this unexpected magical result. After discussion, they guessed that this might have been an unintentional activation of some magical interface within the ancient castle, leading to this change. They suspected that this magic was jointly cast by the four founders at the school's inception, and they—purely by accident—had triggered the key to activate it.

However, the loss of the Marauder's Map was just the beginning. Misfortune never came alone; fate seemed to have other plans. In a Duelling Club match not long after, though he didn't want to admit it, James's proud duelling skills were useless against Snape. Every one of his spells was precisely countered, every attack easily deflected. Snape defeated James with overwhelming force, leaving him utterly humiliated in front of almost the entire school—including Lily Evans? Sirius saw his friend's eyes lose all their sparkle at that moment.

To avenge James, he personally stepped onto the duelling stage. But Snape merely leaned close to his ear and, in a voice only the two of them could hear, spoke their secret. In that moment, Sirius understood where the Marauder's Map had gone, and what James had endured that night. He didn't tell Moony and Wormtail; he didn't want James to bear more self-blame—even though he knew his friends wouldn't blame James.

That duel was devastating for James. He even missed subsequent Quidditch matches, which was unimaginable for James, who always prided himself on Quidditch. Gryffindor had to find a temporary replacement for him and ultimately lost to Ravenclaw. Sirius watched his friend grow increasingly despondent, heartbroken, but couldn't think of a better way to help him, only futilely attempting to distract him with happy memories from the past. Just as he was despairing, Snape found him and handed him that crystal vial.

---

Fortunately, James gradually recovered, though he became much quieter. They still snuck out of the castle at night, still planned pranks, and although James's smile was no longer as bright as before, they still had a lot of fun together. It would definitely be better without Evans, he thought.

"There's nothing wrong with giving up on something impossible," Remus repeated what he had said to James earlier. His voice pulled Sirius back to reality. He realized he had been staring blankly at the empty fireplace, and Remus had already sat in the armchair opposite him, a worried expression on his face.

"James still won't listen?" Sirius asked bitterly.

"You know him," Remus shook his head, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest. "Once he's decided on something—"

Sirius's fists clenched, his nails digging deeply into his palms. He thought of the small vial in his pocket, and Snape's whisper.

"Whether you use it is up to you—remember, this is to help him."

It's to help him—will it truly help him?

Sirius closed his eyes. James's smile, James's dashing figure on the Quidditch pitch, James unhesitatingly opening his home to him after he ran away—"You're a Potter now, brother."

"I'm going to sleep," he suddenly stood up and said.

Remus looked at him as if he wanted to say more, but ultimately only nodded.

Back in the dormitory, Sirius pulled out a tin box from the bottom of his wardrobe. Inside the box lay several photographs—one was of him and James at twelve in the Potter family garden, both holding their newly bought broomsticks, side by side, laughing unrestrainedly. Another was a group photo of him with the Blacks: Uncle Alphard, Cousin Andromeda, and Regulus were all there.

His time with James was the warmest period of his life. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had never given him such smiles. He remembered the screaming Howler his mother sent when she found out he was sorted into Gryffindor, the cold silence of his entire family when Cousin Andromeda and Uncle Alphard were disowned; yet at the Potters' house, there was always a place for him at the dinner table, and Mrs. Potter would always bake an extra slice of his favorite lemon pie.

"For James," he whispered to himself, his fingers tracing James's smiling face in the photo. If it could bring back that smile for James, then what were these concerns? After all, Snape was right, this would be helping him. He didn't know how much more time passed before Sirius was woken by the creak of the wooden door opening. By the moonlight, he saw James drag his tired body in, curling up on his bed without even taking off his shoes.

Outside the window, tree shadows writhed like grasping claws in the moonlight. He remembered that full moon night in their fifth year. The crazy plan they made to become Animagi to keep Remus company. James was the first to successfully transform into a stag; he had bounded around the dormitory with those comical antlers, making Peter roll off his bed with laughter.

"Sirius, look! I did it before you!" James's eyes in the memory sparkled. Now, those stars had faded.

When James's breathing finally became even, Sirius took out the crystal vial from under his pillow again, silently staring at it.

"It's to help him—" he told himself. The clear potion subtly swirled within the bottle.