Hogwarts: I am Snape

Sir Humphrey listened quietly to Snape, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together lightly. It was a habitual gesture he made when deep in thought.

He was digesting the wealth of information, the underlying logic, and the hidden intentions contained in the other person's words.

After a long while, he finally raised his eyes and looked at Snape.

“Besides causing destruction, like those evil wizards in black hoods who commit horrific tragedies, Mr. Snape,” Ser Humphrey said slowly, “what else can you, or rather the group you represent, do?”

“Sir Humphrey,” Snape met his gaze, “while we may indulge our imaginations and think that magic, as a synonym for miracles, is omnipotent, I believe neither of us is that naive.”

"Disappointingly, compared to the fairy tales told by Muggles—which is what we call people who don't use magic—and your folk tales, the wizarding fairy tales emphasize the limitations and impotence of magic. For example," he paused, emphasizing his words, "magic cannot bring the dead back to life or grant eternal life."

Upon hearing this, a hint of disappointment flashed in Sir Humphrey's eyes, but he quickly regained his unfathomable calm.

These two things that magic cannot achieve—reversing life and death and achieving immortality—are precisely what he subconsciously wants to know most at this moment. However, it makes sense when you think about it; if magic could grant immortality, why would a young wizard be sitting across from him?

For a high-ranking civil servant who was used to being in control, Snape's answer instantly cooled down the slightly greedy expectation in his heart that stemmed from an instinct for unknown power.

“In fact,” Snape continued calmly, breaking the brief silence, “what you need to be most concerned about, and what you should be most wary of, is precisely the destructive power we possess.”

“This destructive power, Sir Humphrey, is not merely the obvious such as explosions, burning, or simple killing.” He stared into Sir Humphrey’s eyes. “We have other means, more covert, more subtle, and more difficult to defend against.”

"For example?" Sir Humphrey pressed, leaning forward slightly, showing keen interest and wariness.

“For example,” Snape said, “we can control your minds and make you do things you don’t want to do.”

“Mind control?” Ser Humphrey frowned, his face full of distrust. He looked at Snape, trying to find a trace of mockery or exaggeration in the young man’s face.

Just then, a gray sparrow happened to land on the narrow ledge outside the open window, hopping around and drinking water from a small puddle, splashing tiny droplets of water.

Snape said nothing, but under the wary gazes of the two men, he silently gestured with his wand to Sir Humphrey and Bernard to look at the innocent little creature outside.

“Look, that sparrow,” he said calmly, raising his wand and pointing it at the sparrow, murmuring, “Out of body!”

The sparrow outside the window, which had been hopping about lively, seemed to freeze for a moment. Then, it stopped drinking and turned its small head towards the office.

Under the astonished gazes of Sir Humphrey and Bernard, the sparrow obediently flapped its wings and nimbly slipped in through the crack in the window.

As if drawn by invisible threads, its small body traced an arc and flew straight toward Sir Humphrey, landing precisely on the back of his hand, which he had instinctively raised.

The damp paws touched the skin.

Sir Humphrey held his breath, slowly raised his hand, and held the magically controlled bird up to his eyes for close observation.

The sparrow showed no fear, its small, dark eyes fixed on him.

Then, something even stranger happened.

On the back of his hand, the little sparrow clumsily turned around and did a backflip, then wobbled and jumped up and down with its two tiny claws, as if it were performing a comical and haphazard dance.

Sir Humphrey and Bernard stared blankly at this illogical scene, their faces devoid of any smile, only filled with deep shock and chill.

This is not a performance; this is a living, breathing deprivation of free will.

Snape gently raised his chin. The sparrow on the back of Sir Humphrey's hand stopped dancing, flapped its wings again, obediently flew out the window, and landed back where it had been drinking.

Snape waved his wand at it again and whispered the dispelling of the spell.

The sparrow outside the window suddenly shook its feathers, as if waking from a deep dream, and let out a series of frightened chirps, trembling violently in place for a few moments.

It looked around in terror, no longer caring about drinking water, and fluttered its wings as it fled the place that terrified it.

Sir Humphrey lowered his still-raised hand and silently stood up.

He walked step by step toward the window, pressing his face against the cold, rain-drenched glass, his gaze following the small figure as it disappeared into the gray rain.

Several minutes later, he turned around, his face expressionless. He looked at Snape and said calmly:

“Mr. Snape, cast this spell on me as well.”

"Sir Humphrey!" Bernard gasped, "You can't..."

Sir Humphrey raised his hand to stop Bernard from continuing.

“Bernard, let’s choose to trust Mr. Snape this once.” His gaze never left Snape. “I’m curious what that would feel like.”

Snape looked into Sir Humphrey's eyes, offered no advice, and simply nodded.

The wand rose again, aimed at the very "conscience" of the British civil service.

"The soul is out of body!"

It was a most strange, yet most unsettling feeling.

Sir Humphrey felt light as a feather, as if floating on a cloud, his soul detached from his heavy body.

The countless thoughts and worries that lingered in his mind—the operation of the country, the government crisis, budget cuts, soaring unemployment, the prime minister's safety, and even the mysterious wizard before him—were all blown away by a gentle breeze, leaving only a hazy, intangible, yet intoxicating joy.

It is a pure and empty joy, without any reason and without needing any reason.

He stood there, every pore radiating a lazy warmth, feeling an unprecedented ease and carefree joy.

He only vaguely realized that Bernard was standing not far away, staring at him with a terrified look. But it seemed irrelevant to him; that gaze was as if seen through a thick fog, arousing no interest in him whatsoever.

Then, Sir Humphrey heard the young wizard's voice echoing in some distant corner of his empty mind: "Turn around in place... turn around in place..."

Almost without thinking, his body obediently and gracefully turned a full circle on the spot.

The dark wainscoting, the heavy desk, and the ornate chandelier in my line of sight began to rotate and change angles.

When he faced the reception area again, his steps involuntarily faltered, and he lost his balance. Bernard's terrified face seemed to distort and blur slightly with the swaying. The voice echoed again deep within his consciousness: Jump onto the table… jump onto the table…

Sir Humphrey's body reacted almost instantly. He obediently bent his knees, preparing to leap.

"Jump onto the table..." This instruction echoed repeatedly in his blank mind.

But why?

Another voice awoke behind his head. This voice sounded somewhat familiar.

"That's so stupid," the voice said.

Jump onto the table...

"No, I don't want to jump. Shut up," the other voice said, its tone more resolute... "No, I really don't want to jump..."

Jump onto the table...

"That's incredibly foolish!" another voice of his retorted sharply. "I am the all-powerful Cabinet Secretary, the head of the civil service, the de facto ruler of the British Empire! Jumping onto the table? That's utterly absurd..."

Jump! Jump!

A muffled thud was followed by the screeching sound of wood scraping against the floor.

Sir Humphrey then felt a sharp pain.

He jumped, yet at the same time tried not to jump.

As a result, instead of leaping gracefully onto the table, he slammed his kneecaps hard against the hard edge of the table in a clumsy manner, knocking the table askew.

A piercing pain instantly shot through his legs and spread throughout his body, making his vision blur and causing him to groan. He thought his two kneecaps, which he was so proud of, must be fractured.

"All healed, completely!"

As Bernard exclaimed in surprise, Snape's voice rang out just in time, and a soft light fell on Sir Humphrey's knees.

Suddenly, Sir Humphrey felt a cool, comfortable sensation spread through the area in his knee that had been gripped by excruciating pain. The tearing pain vanished, leaving only a strange, soothing coolness.

The emptiness that echoed in his mind completely disappeared, and all his own thoughts, memories, and logic surged back.

He remembered everything that had just happened very clearly: the illusory joy, the impulse to submit, the violent struggle, the excruciating pain from the impact on his knee, and the lingering coldness.

Bernard rushed forward to help him. With Bernard's support, Sir Humphrey, still somewhat stiff and uncoordinated, moved away from the table, returned to the sofa, and sat down heavily.

He lowered his head and stroked his intact knee, remaining silent for several seconds before taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling.

Sir Humphrey looked up and stared directly at Snape.

“I’m starting to believe that you are human beings now, Mr. Snape,” he said calmly, his voice a little hoarse but with a sense of relief. “Those strange things you just said, let’s call them ‘spells’ for now,” he pointed to his head and knees, “reminded me of the profound texts and speculations I read when I was studying classics at Bailey College.”

“Oh, those philosophical discussions that were so insightful yet so perplexing, I really miss them. It seems,” he paused meaningfully, “that the history of you wizards, at least the spells you use, is probably just as long as ours.”

Snape nodded slightly. For a scholar like Sir Humphrey, who graduated first in his class from the Department of Classics at Bailey, Oxford, it was not difficult to see the connection between the spells he used and Greek and Latin.

This is precisely why Snape didn't choose to use the Silent Charm; similarities are always easier to accept than differences.

“I must say,” he said, “Sir Humphrey, it is no easy feat for you to successfully break free from the Imperius Curse. It requires immense personal strength and willpower, something not everyone possesses. Even among us wizards, few can resist it.”

Sir Humphrey gave a tired yet slightly proud smile.

“As it happens, I do possess a bit of what you call ‘personal strength,’ Mr. Snape.” He straightened his back, his bureaucratic air returning to him, though his face was still somewhat pale. “Since you have clearly expressed your desire to seek cooperation.”

"Then, please explain the specific details of the cooperation. And what are the respective rights and obligations of both parties?"

"The specifics of the collaboration are of utmost importance, Sir Humphrey," Snape shook his head slightly, "but there is something more pressing that we need to do right now."

“We need to see His Excellency the Prime Minister immediately. Your Prime Minister, Mr. Harker, is currently in great danger.”

"The Death Eaters, those evil wizards who wear black hoods and commit massacres, have already located his current hiding place."

"Their goal is very clear: to control him, to turn him into a puppet using magic similar to what I just demonstrated. Or, if control fails or is deemed too risky, they will not hesitate to eliminate him."

“I expect their operation to begin in another hour or two,” Snape glanced at the wall clock, “or even less.”

Bernard immediately looked at Sir Humphrey, his eyes filled with questioning and astonishment.

Ser Humphrey was silent for a moment. His brow furrowed, his eyes sharply fixed on Snape:
"His Excellency the Prime Minister is under the highest level of security, Mr. Snape. His hiding place is one of the Empire's top secrets, and even other members of the Cabinet are not permitted to..."

“I know what you’re worried about, Sir Humphrey,” Snape interrupted him, stating directly the name of a satellite town on the outskirts of London and the address of what sounded like a private sanatorium. “This is where the Prime Minister is currently located. For us, most secrets are not actually as secret as you think.”

Upon hearing the address, which was so precise it included the house number, Sir Humphrey tensed up again, his pupils contracting slightly. His hands, resting on his knees, clenched unconsciously.

“I have a question for you, Mr. Snape,” he said, looking intently at Snape, his voice low and serious, “that you, and the respectable wizarding community you represent, will wish to fully integrate into our Muggle society after all this is over?”

Snape answered without hesitation.

“No,” he said, “this is not our mainstream position, nor is it the wise path we should choose.”

"As I said before, although we are all human beings in essence, we naturally possess certain abilities that you cannot acquire no matter how much effort you put in."

"Magic, unlike social forces such as power, money, and status, is entirely a talent, a random gift from one's bloodline."

"This subtle difference determines a harsh reality. In the foreseeable future, the best option for both societies to maintain long-term stability and the existing order is to remain largely isolated from each other, go their separate ways, and avoid deep contact."

“A hasty integration…” he shook his head, “will only trigger unpredictable covetousness, conflict, panic, and chaos, ultimately leading to the collapse of your and our social structures and the complete breakdown of order.”

"What we seek is realistic coexistence, not naive integration." (End of Chapter)