Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 117 You Are More Important Than It
When the oak door opened, Dumbledore was sitting behind his large desk, the setting sun casting its glow on the constantly spinning silver instruments on it.

“Severus,” he looked up and said gently, “I’ve made contact with some old friends, including some who know Nagini. We’re working together to figure something out.”

"Someone who knows Nagini?" Snape asked, though he already had a vague idea of ​​who it was.

“Nico Flamel,” Dumbledore said. “You should have heard of him.”

“Yes,” said Snape, who was indeed the owner of the Philosopher’s Stone. “Professor, I have come here hoping that you can make me a Portkey, a Portkey that will allow me to return to Hogwarts.”

"What are you going to do with it?" Dumbledore asked.

"Just in case, I came back from Malfoy Manor," Snape said bluntly. He wasn't worried about leaks; although the Malfoy family had a long history, none of them had ever been the headmaster of Hogwarts. "As far as you know, is Malfoy Manor now a stronghold of the Death Eaters, Professor?"

“As far as I know, Malfoy Manor is not currently a Death Eater stronghold,” Dumbledore said slowly, setting down his quill. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. Are you going to get that ‘terrible talking thing’ that Dobby mentioned?”

Snape nodded.

"Do you think it's a good idea to just barge into the mansion of a pure-blood family?" Dumbledore's voice remained calm, but his tone carried obvious doubt.

“I’m confident,” Snape said firmly. “I just need a safe way out.”

“That violates the rules of the Portkey Office, you know that,” Dumbledore sighed. “More importantly, while I also want to know what that item is, I believe you are more important than it.”

Snape felt a strange stirring within him. “I’m touched, Professor,” he said dryly, trying to mask the emotion in his voice. “But when did we start caring about the Ministry of Magic’s rules, Professor?”

Dumbledore's lips curled into a slight smile, but he quickly regained his serious expression. He pondered for a moment, then stood up and walked towards a locker.

“It will trigger precisely at midnight and bring you back here.” Dumbledore took a silver pendant from the cabinet, pointed at it with his wand, and said, “Mentos.”

After the pendant's light and trembling stopped, he handed it to Snape.

“Wear it close to your body,” he emphasized, “and be careful.”

Snape nodded and fastened the pendant around his neck. But he wasn't satisfied with that.

“Professor,” Snape said, “I remember there are two kinds of door keys, one of which will teleport the person who touches it to their destination at a specific time, just like this one.”

"But there's another type, which teleports you immediately upon contact. Could you make me a contact teleportation device? That way, I can choose to return on my own."

“Don’t go too far, Severus. An illegal Portkey is bad enough.” Dumbledore’s expression was a mix of annoyance and amusement, but he turned and walked toward the cabinet again. “You’re encouraging the Chief Wizard of Wizengamor to break the law.”

“Don’t be so serious,” Snape said with a grin. “Just laugh it off. Once you’ve done it the first time, it’s much easier the second time, Professor.”

“Here you are,” Dumbledore said, casting the same spell on a medal before carefully wrapping it in parchment. “Tear it open when you need it.”

"Thank you, my dear professor." Snape put the door key away with satisfaction.

"Now, how do you plan to break into Malfoy Manor?" Dumbledore asked, sitting back down at the table. "Do you need any help?"

“I don’t think so,” Snape said, pulling a crystal bottle filled with a black liquid from his pocket. “I have a way in—Polyhydral Soup.”

"Where did you get these materials from?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Professor Slughorn has a huge pot,” Snape said casually. “Borrowing a little from him would be no big deal.”

"Borrow?" Dumbledore's tone was full of doubt.

“The part he didn’t notice,” Snape admitted. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“Alright,” Dumbledore shook his head, seemingly deciding not to pursue this blatant violation of school rules any further, “Who do you intend to become?”

“Abraxas Malfoy. Who else could it be?” Snape said. “After that dueling club night, I collected some things from Professor Malfoy.”

"The Bat-Demon Curse?" Dumbledore suddenly laughed, looking at Snape with respect in his eyes. "A booger?"

“Hair!” Snape repeated angrily, “His fallen hair!”

“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore reassured him, “I don’t think you need to make such a sacrifice.”

Then, Snape pulled a magnificent silver-green wizard's robe and matching shoes from his bag, and looked at Dumbledore: "Excuse me, Professor. The following is paid content."

“This is my office,” Dumbledore said, pursing his lips. “And,” he gestured to the portraits on the wall, “they’re watching too.”

“Then I’ll have to go out by myself,” Snape said, picking up his clothes and walking toward the door. As he closed the door, he turned back and added, “I don’t want to change in front of an old man.”

Outside the door, Snape pinched his nose, took a deep breath, and downed the Polyjuice Potion in one gulp. As the liquid slid down his throat, he almost vomited—it tasted like overcooked vegetable scraps mixed with some indescribable fishy smell.

The next second, excruciating pain struck. His internal organs began to churn, as if he had swallowed several live snakes. A strong burning sensation spread from his stomach throughout his body, reaching his fingers and toes.

Then came a terrifying melting sensation, as if his skin were bubbling up like hot wax.

Snape lay prostrate on the ground, panting, watching helplessly as his hands began to writhe and deform like hot wax, wrinkles creeping onto his skin, his nails widening, and his knuckles bulging out like bolts.

The most unbearable thing was the stinging pain on his scalp. He could feel his hair growing, with pale golden strands falling in front of his eyes.

The pain came suddenly and went quickly. A minute later, Snape was panting heavily, grimacing, and trembling as he stood up. He quickly took off his original robes and changed into Malfoy-style clothing. He adjusted the emerald lapel pin according to his memory, ensuring that every detail was perfect.

Snape touched his face, feeling the unfamiliar wrinkles and beard. When he pushed open the door, he was completely Abraxas Malfoy.

“Dumbledore,” Snape said in the haughty, greasy voice typical of Abraxas, “I regret to inform you that the Board of Trustees has decided to remove you from your position as Headmaster.”

He raised his chin slightly, took exaggerated steps to stand in front of Dumbledore, looked down at the headmaster, picked up a piece of parchment from the table, tapped it with his wand, and turned it into a mirror.

Abraxas Malfoy in the mirror smiled slightly, revealing a smug grin. "Get up, Dumbledore," Snape continued, playing his part. "This position should belong to me."

“Your performance was almost flawless,” Dumbledore said calmly, looking at him. “I’m already thinking of pointing my wand at your head. Don’t waste any more time, go and come back quickly.”

“Impatientness is never the mark of a noble pure-blood wizard,” Snape replied to the headmaster in a languid aristocratic tone. “By the way, Professor, the way the school doors open… is it still the same as before?”

“As before.” Dumbledore’s voice was stern. He stood up and walked to Snape. “Remember, do not kill anyone from the Malfoy family, Severus.” He paused, his gaze sharpening. “They hold a very important position in the pure-blood circle and have extensive connections with various families. If you harm them—”

“I’m not the Dark Lord,” Snape scoffed. “Don’t make it sound like I enjoy killing.”

After bidding farewell to the headmaster, Snape—now in the form of Abraxas Malfoy—donned his hood, strode out of the headmaster's office, and headed towards the school entrance.

After the pressure from Apparition disappeared, Snape found himself standing on a country road.

He had visited here a few years ago for Lucius's birthday party. The experience was far from pleasant; as a half-blood wizard who had been invited based on his talent, he felt out of place among Lucius's other friends.

In the distance, the wrought-iron gates and the silhouette of Malfoy Manor stood out prominently in the twilight. The manor's magnificence and scale were breathtaking—towering spires, meticulously manicured gardens, and an pervasive air of luxury.

The Malfoy family never hides their wealth, just as a peacock never hides its tail feathers.

But he didn't proceed immediately. As the residence of an ancient wizarding family, it must be filled with protective spells, especially intrusion spells—a spell that can detect strangers and trigger an alarm, similar to a burglar alarm used by Muggles.

In the original story, Slughorn used this spell near his Muggle home and noticed Dumbledore and Harry's visit.

In theory, compound decoctions mimic a person from the inside out, so they should be able to fool these defenses, but theory does not always match reality.

“Even Barty the Younger could fool Dumbledore with this thing,” Snape muttered to himself, deciding to take a gamble. “It should be fine.”

He straightened his back, adopting the arrogant posture of Abraxas, and his steps became slow and deliberate. He walked to the iron gate and gently tapped it.

Fortunately, no alarms were triggered.

The wrought iron began to deform, the abstract floral pattern twisting into a terrifying face.

"State the purpose of your visit," the wrought iron gate said in a resounding, metallic voice.

“It’s me,” Snape answered in Abraxas’s voice. “Open the door.”

"Ah, Father, why are you back?" The metallic face showed a surprised expression, and the voice immediately became respectful.

"That's a very pleasant way to address me," Snape couldn't help but think.

The gate opened silently, revealing a long driveway. Snape breathed a sigh of relief, but his vigilance remained undiminished. This was only the first hurdle; the real test was yet to come.

He walked along the gravel path, flanked by neatly trimmed hedges. Above, several white peacocks glided gracefully by, like white phantoms in the twilight.

Before he even reached the main building, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy came out of the building, quickly descended the wide stone steps, and jogged to Snape's side.

“Father,” Lucius exclaimed in surprise, “we didn’t expect you to come back today.”

Narcissa gave a graceful bow, then took Snape's arm: "Why did you come back alone? Where's Dobby?"

“Don’t even mention it,” Snape scoffed. “We’ll talk about it inside.”

The living room was dazzling in its spaciousness and luxury. Crystal chandeliers shimmered from the ceiling, and portraits of Malfoy's ancestors adorned the deep purple walls.

At the far end was a long table and a magnificent marble fireplace, above which hung a large gilded mirror with exquisite scrollwork on its frame. Snape saw himself in the mirror—Abraxas's face, which exuded arrogance even without speaking.

“To the study,” Snape said firmly, stopping Lucius from leading him to the chair by the fireplace. This was information he had received from Dobby—the Malfoys had a study where Dobby’s former masters always went when they had private conversations.

The study was equally luxurious, with ebony bookshelves filled with gilded books and green velvet curtains hanging to the floor.

Snape went straight to the head seat and sat down. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a puzzled look, but still obediently sat down opposite him.

Narcissa waved her wand and summoned a tea set: "Would you like some tea, Father?"

“Dobby’s gone.” Snape waved his hand dismissively. He dared not drink anything here. Even if he wasn’t worried about being poisoned, he didn’t know how Abraxas would drink tea—a small sip or a large gulp. Any subtle difference could give away his identity.

"What do you mean?" Lucius's eyes widened in shock, and he almost dropped his teacup. "Dobby is dead?" Narcissa grasped the back of his hand.

“No,” Snape feigned indignation, “Dobby was released by a half-breed named Severus Snape. What’s worse, that wretched elf refused to renew his pact with the Malfoys!”

"What?" Lucius's face contorted with rage. "I thought Dobby should be proud to work for the Malfoys, a respectable job that so many house-elves dream of!"

Narcissa glanced at the "father and son" sharply, but said nothing. Snape noticed her fingers tapping lightly on the rim of her teacup, as if she were deep in thought.

“Father,” Lucius said suddenly, “that bastard Snape actually dared to write to me yesterday and ask to meet me.”

Snape felt a surge of anger. I could call myself that, but how dare you, Lucius, address me like that? But considering the other man called him "Dad," he decided to maintain a facade of composure and replied in a nonchalant tone, "What did he want with you?"

"He lied in his letter, claiming your life was in danger at Hogwarts, and asked me to meet him at the Three Broomsticks. It's absurd!" Lucius said angrily. "Although I'd heard for a long time that he didn't want to join us for some reason, no matter what, Sissy and I took such good care of him at school. Who would have thought he'd turn out to be such an ungrateful wretch!"

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(End of this chapter)