I’m wondering how long the Fantastic Beasts timeline will span. Hopefully it will last at least 50 years so we could AT LEAST get a glimpse of the Marauders or the Black family or young Snape, the movie we could have got.
Contrary to popular belief, I feel like one doesn’t need to earn a Slytherins respect.
I think in general Slytherins naturally respect all people, not only because that usually ends up being fortunate for them in terms of social interaction, but also because that’s how they feel they want to be treated themselves.
So, if a Slytherin loses their respect for you, that means you must’ve fucked up massively, since they’re incredibly tough people that can put up with a lot of shit.
Slytherins respect everyone, but once they’ve lost their respect for you, it’s over and there is no possible way you’re going to gain it back.
What's your favourite Snape quote from the series which you never see posted by other people?
Without a doubt:
Crabbe, loosen your hold a little. If Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job.
He needs Crabbe to loosen his hold, else Neville might suffer serious damage - but saying, “Vincent, lay off, Neville might end up really unwell,” won’t cut it. Umbridge doesn’t care about Neville’s wellbeing, so why should the Head of Slytherin suddenly turn protective of a kid he’s disliked for 5 years? And acting out of character is not ideal when it’s in front of a bunch of Death Eater children, who may report back to their parents.
So, he does what every sarcastic adult does, and deflects. Snape doesn’t request that Crabbe refrains from killing Neville because it’s the wrong thing to do, but he essentially says, “Don’t kill Neville because it will inconvenience me.”
But perhaps Crabbe isn’t all that bothered about inconveniencing Snape, so he follows up with ensuring that Crabbe is aware that if he does inconvenience Snape, Snape will ensure it comes back to inconvenience Crabbe in the future.
There’s also, if you want to read too much into it all, the reinforcement of power that Snape holds over Crabbe. He’s the one who will write his reference, and he’s the one who therefore might determine his career.
If Snape holds power over Crabbe Jr, that might translate into holding some influence over his father when he’s back amongst the Death Eaters. Hopefully, Crabbe Snr won’t want to rock the boat with Snape if he thinks Snape has an iron grip on his son’s future.
But the best bit is the final moment where he lays the burn on Crabbe with: if you ever apply for a job.
Not when you apply for a job.
That’s a pretty neat slay to wrap on. (I’m sure that intelligent man was rather put out that he had a complete ignoramus like Crabbe under his care in Slytherin…)
someone added these tags to my post and i figured while we’re at it how about a friendly reminder that snape gave the man that killed the woman he claimed to love the information that convinced him to target her in the first place while he was working for said man of his own accord, and that he admittedly did not care if the woman’s husband and infant son were murdered.
and how about another friendly reminder that this person he was working for completely voluntarily at the time was actively trying to commit genocide against people with the same parentage as the woman he claimed to love.
he’s a complicated character and you can make of him what you will but let’s keep these things in perspective, buddy.
Severus invented sectumsempra because :
- He was a poor and mentally damaged teenager.
- He was bullied by James Potter.
- He wanted to protect himself.
- He probably thought that it would make him powerful.
and not because he was some sort of psychopath who wanted to kill muggleborn.
Could you write a fic where it's Snape who meets when the Dursleys are staying in Cokeworth?
Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel
on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds
and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the
windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering…
Like shootin’ fish in
a barrel, son!
His father’s words rang in his head as he strolled from the
pub. He hadn’t intended to fleece the
group. Not like when he was younger, and
was cajoled by his desperate father.
This time, mired in guilt, he threw the last few hands, and pretended
his winning streak was over.
The men commiserated his loss with good humour and camaraderie,
but Severus didn’t need to use Legilimency to read their relief. There had been at least a fortnight’s wage on
the table, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that any of the men were still
working. Gambling was no laughing matter
in a backwater pub in Cokeworth.
And him, a well-paid teacher. He could afford to lose ten times over. He should’ve known better.
But old habits die hard, and he could almost hear his father’s
greed hollering in his ear. He never
threw a hand back then, not when losing a hand could mean the household
starving for the rest of the week. He still
couldn’t eat stew as an adult, no matter how upmarket the offering was. Gourmet stew, indeed. He could almost feel the oily, watery broth that
had coated his fingers as he scooped a bowl from the cauldron; no chunks of
meat to be found, and merely vegetable peel for flavour.
No. He never threw a
hand back then.
It was only the time his father had seen any worth in
magic. Comin’ down for a pint, eh, son?
I’ll stand yer one. And then
he’d lower his voice to a whisper so Eileen wouldn’t hear. And
bring that witchy mind readin’ brain of yers with yer. Don’t think yer just goin’ to sit quiet in
the corner with a bleedin’ book.
He kicked angrily at a stone on the pavement. “Why d’yer do this to yerself, Sev lad?” he
muttered. His accent was stronger in
these streets. He shouldn’t have had that
last pint. He always got maudlin after
one too many. He always got maudlin in
He turned a corner, and followed the main street out of
town. Spinner’s End was in the other
direction, far from the train station, far from civilisation – but Severus
always walked to the outskirts, and then Apparated to his house. He preferred to arrive directly in his
bedroom when he’d had a few pints; he could collapse straight into bed, and it
saved exchanging trivialities with the neighbours. It took all of his effort to remain polite
during the day – with a few Muggle pints in his system, Severus wasn’t quite
sure of what he might say.
He glanced up. The
stars weren’t visible – too much light pollution. Too much pollution full stop.
And then he saw him.
Four storeys up, his face pressed against the glass of a dirty window.
James fucking Potter.
Severus stopped, and turned.
His spin was rather less impressive without his voluminous teaching
robes, but despite his alcohol intake, the movement was smooth. He took several steps back and peered at the
window, where a small boy with glasses, and messy black hair was peering right
back at him.
He wasn’t going mad.
It wasn’t James Potter.
Not with that distinctive scar.
Severus’ heart thudded in his chest. He stared at the boy for a long moment, and
eventually, timidly, the boy raised his hand in the slightest of waves.
After a few seconds, Severus nodded, and continued on his
Harry silently watched as the thin man with long, straight
hair hurried down the street. He glanced
back over at Dudley, who was still snoring loudly, and sighed.
“I thought he lived in Surrey,” Severus shouted, banging the
door as he strode in, incongruously dressed in his Muggle attire.
“All right, Severus,” Minerva said, sharply. “I’ve heard quite enough.” She opened the log of which letters had been
sent to which student, and her jaw dropped as she flicked to Harry Potter’s record.
Most children had a single entry next to their name: Draco
Malfoy – letter sent by OWL, RSVP received.
Harry James Potter didn’t have just one entry. He had thirty nine pages.
Severus stood behind Minerva, and peered at the pages with
her. “Don’t you check these?”
“At the weekend. It
gives families chance to send confirmation,” she said, defensively. “There’s usually no need to chase anyone up. These are all pureblood and halfblood
families, Severus, remember?”
“Halfblood he might be,” Severus harrumphed, “but he lives
“Muggles who know fully well what he is,” Minerva
corrected. “Dumbledore did suggest he’d
send Hagrid to retrieve him if there was any trouble,” she added, but Severus
wasn’t really listening.
“The address keeps changing,” he said, pointing at the
page. “What does this mean? Cupboard under the stairs? The smallest bedroom?”
Minerva gave him a horrified look. “The addresses are automatic.”
“Hundreds of these,” Severus said, flipping the pages. “And now, look! Tomorrow’s entry – Railview Hotel,
Cokeworth! That’s where I saw him.”
“Perhaps they went on holiday?”
Severus snorted. “Nobody goes to
Cokeworth on holiday.”
“You were there. This
is your holiday.”
Severus gave her a scathing look. “I had the misfortune of being born there.” He tensed.
“They’re running from it. They
think they can outrun the owls.”
Minerva polished her glasses on her sleeve. “You don’t seriously think those awful
Muggles would keep Harry from attending Hogwarts?”
When she put her glasses back on, he’d gone.
They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast
for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel
came over to their table.
“’Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got
about an ’undred of these at the front desk.”
She held up a letter so they could read the green ink
Mr. H. Potter Room 17 Railview Hotel Cokeworth
Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked
his hand out of the way. The woman stared.
“I’ll take them,” said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and
following her from the dining room.
Vernon’s heavy footsteps stomped down the hallway, and
Severus slipped in through the door. He’d
sat in Vernon’s place before anyone even realised he’d entered the room.
“Mornin’,” he said, cheerfully, and picked up Vernon’s
half-finished cup of tea.
Petunia was so horrified, she couldn’t speak. Her mouth kept forming the same strange ‘o’
shape. Dudley clouted her on the back,
assuming she was choking on a cornflake.
Harry’s eyes widened.
“You’re the man I saw last night,” he said.
“I am,” he said, leaning his head down to Harry. “And I have a very special letter for you.”
“Oh!” Petunia finally spoke, and Severus straightened up.
“Where’s my letter?” demanded Dudley.
“You don’t want one of those horrid letters,” Petunia
snapped. “And neither does he, Snape!”
Harry didn’t think it was possible to be more shocked. “You know this man, Aunt Petunia?”
“Off to your room, Harry,” Severus said sternly, passing him
“You know my name!”
“-and keep that letter safe.”
Harry gave a sharp nod, and fled to his hotel room. Dudley moved to go with him, but Severus’
slender hand gripped his upper arm. He dropped
his Cokeworth accent, and slipped back into his most impressive schoolmaster
tone. “And where do you think you’re going?”
Dudley swallowed hard.
Ordinarily, he’d scream and shout, and stamp his feet – but the man’s
black eyes were unnerving. He slid back
onto his seat.
“Not my son, Snape,” Petunia whispered, horrified. “You can take the other one, but please, not
“Nobody wants your Duddy,” Severus sneered.
“Fine,” she snapped. “You’ve-”
“Obliviate. Stupefy. Muffliato.”
Petunia’s scream was high pitched, and she lunged for the
thin man. “What have you done to him? My Duddikins!
Duddy!” She looked around helplessly,
amazed that nobody else had moved an inch.
“What have you done?”
“No-one can hear you,” Severus said, in an almost bored
tone. “I merely wiped the boy’s memory
of events. He will wake shortly, and he
won’t have any knowledge of this meeting.”
Petunia calmed, and sniffed.
“I think it best that both you and Harry remember what
happened here.” He flicked his wand,
lifting the Muffliato spell. “Send
Dudley up to pack in five minutes. It’ll
give you time to decide what to tell that oaf of a husband of yours.”
Severus rapped on the door.
The door slid open, and Harry beamed at him. “Is this true? Is this all true? I’m a wizard?
Are you a wizard?”
Severus nodded, and ushered the boy through the door.
“Do you work at the school?” Harry asked, excitedly. “Can we go now?”
“We cannot go now,” Severus intoned, “for Hogwarts has
broken up for the summer. But yes, I
work at the school.”
“What do you do?”
“I teach Potions.” At
Harry’s puzzled look, he smiled. “It’s
like Chemistry. Only magical.”
“Are there forms?”
“I went to the open day at Stonewall High,” Harry explained. “And they put you in a form. Mine was-”
“We call them houses,” Severus interrupted.
“Yes, that’s it!”
Harry looked cheered, and then turned back to the letter. “It doesn’t say which house I am going to be
“Nobody knows until you turn up.”
“Oh.” Harry thought
for a moment. “What’s your house?”
Severus smiled. “I
was put into Slytherin.” He smiled more
broadly again. “I am very proud to say
that I am the Head of Slytherin.”
“Slytherin? That’s a
Severus gave a tight smile.
“Isn’t it just?” He patted the
small boy on the shoulder. “Enough now,
Harry. You need to pack your things before
your cousin comes upstairs.”
“It won’t be long until you’re at Hogwarts,” he said. “For now, just keep yourself out of trouble.”
“Sir? Do you think I
could be in Slytherin?”
Severus paused for a long moment, and then shut the
door. He pulled out his wand and spun on
his heel. “Obliviate! Stupefy!”
He picked the stunned boy up, shocked at how light the limp
child was. He gently rested him on the
bed and sighed. “Your mother was in
“What an odd name,” Y/N’s friend exclaimed as they found one of Severus’ letters lying about. “What kind of a name is Severus Snape. Is he one of those mystery friends of yours?” Y/N quickly snatched the letter out of their hands. “Yes, he is. He keeps me informed of home.” “Home? You said you lived here your whole life.” “There is another part of London not many people see. That’s where I come from. Now, are we going to lunch or not?” requested by andromedahelps requests are open