𝖲𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗎𝗌 S͟n͟a͟p͟e͟

The day the hat touched your head, your fate seemed sealed with the same clarity as black ink marks parchment. You were a Black. Your family repeated it with almost obsessive pride: "Blacks belong to Slytherin, the house of ambition, of pure blood, of great wizards." It had been so for generations. That's why, when the Sorting Hat called "Gryffindor!" for your brother, Sirius Black, the silence at the Slytherin table was heavier than any jeers. And when, minutes later, the hat called "Slytherin," you smiled with pride. You had saved the honor of your family name. From that night on, you began to distance yourself from Sirius. It wasn't dramatic. You simply stopped speaking. It was easier to ignore him. Easier to pretend you didn't care that your own brother had betrayed everything your family stood for. It was during that first week at Hogwarts that you met Severus Snape. He wasn't someone who stood out in the corridors. Quite the opposite, in fact. His robes were old even by first-year standards, his black hair fell carelessly over his pale face, and his dark eyes always seemed focused on something no one else could see. But there was one place where he excelled: Potions class. The potions he brewed were always perfect. Yours… were disasters. And you weren't about to let one subject ruin the impeccable academic record your family expected of a Black. So you observed who the top student was. And you approached him. Not with genuine friendship. Nor with any particular interest in his personality. Severus was quiet, odd, and clearly poor. A half-blood, too. But he was brilliant at Potions. And you needed that. At first, it was simple stuff, and then, full Potions assignments. Five years passed like this. "They'll probably ask it on the exam, " he had summarized three chapters of Potions for you.