Chapter Text
i.
It's the first night back after winter hols, and Albus Dumbledore stands up before the food appears on the plates to address the figurative elephant in the room: namely, that there is a man sat in Professor Snape's chair, who has long black hair and is dressed in Snape's customary billowing black robes (the ones that render their wearer reminiscent of an overgrown bat swooping about the castle). This man is quite clearly Not Severus Snape.
'Welcome back, students of Hogwarts!' the Headmaster announces warmly. 'I hope that you have all had a delightful Yuletide, and have returned well-rested and freshly prepared for another term of magical study.' Dumbledore beams around the hall (the students, many of them eyeing Umbridge warily, are not so optimistic). 'As I am sure you have all noticed by now, we have something of a new face among our staff--' (Dumbledore gestures at the Man Who Is Not Snape, who nonetheless glowers very Snapeishly back at him) '--that of our beloved Professor Snape, who has regrettably been the target of a slight magical mishap over the holidays. I must humbly request that you continue to treat him with all due respect in these trying times, and that you kindly disregard his, ah, changed appearance.'
The other Professors cast sidelong glances at the Man Who May Or May Not Be Snape. The man continues to scowl rather melodramatically. Umbridge's beady stare flits suspiciously from Dumbledore to 'Snape', as though trying to catch either of them in a lie. McGonagall appears to be fighting the near-overpowering urge to roll her eyes.
'Well, now that we've got that out of the way,' Dumbledore continues brightly, 'dig in!' With that, food appears on the plates, and the headmaster sits with a sweep of his gold-trimmed violet robes, and that is, evidently, all he intends to say on the subject.
Naturally, the hall erupts into wild speculation.
'What d'you reckon happened?' a Ravenclaw fourth-year whispers to his friend. 'Do you know any spells that could change someone's appearance permanently like that?'
'It'd have to be transfigurative, right?' the second boy replies. 'Or maybe a potion, since that's Snape's subject-- maybe some Polyjuice that had gone off?'
'But why would Snape be using Polyjuice?' Padma Patil chimes in with a frown.
'Perhaps he had a run-in with a Quarrelous Quantritops,' Luna Lovegood says dreamily, from a few seats over (but the others pretend not to hear her and don't acknowledge this possible explanation).
At the Hufflepuff table, a sixth year leans in close to his best friend. 'Is it just me, or did Snape get... kind of hot?' he whispers.
The friend grimaces, her cheeks flushed. 'You're right and I hate it,' she grudgingly concedes.
Fred Weasley, sat just behind them at the Gryffindor table, chokes on his potatoes. George thumps him on the back, barely containing his own laughter (it's almost as though they know something about what happened, but if so they keep uncharacteristically silent).
And, on the opposite side of the hall, Blaise Zabini quirks an eyebrow at Draco Malfoy, who's sat just across the table from him. Draco hasn't taken his eyes off Snape since he entered the room, his brow pinched in a frown.
'He's certainly easier on the eyes,' Blaise drawls, 'but you'll give yourself a crick in the neck if you keep ogling him like that.'
Draco's head snaps back around, a pink flush burning across his pale cheeks. 'I'm-- I am not ogling anyone!' he sputters indignantly.
'What do you call it, then?' Blaise asks, his full lips curled into an elegant smirk. 'You've hardly taken your eyes off Snape since we arrived.'
'That man,' Draco hisses, 'is not Professor Snape.'
Blaise shrugs noncommittally. 'Mmh... if you say so,' he says, the doubt evident in his tone. 'Personally, I don't see how it matters...' He glances along the table, where a few girls are giggling and blushing as they shoot poorly concealed glances at 'Snape'. Blaise smiles. 'But either way, it should be a fascinating show.'
Draco grinds his teeth and fumes.
ii.
The fact is that Draco Malfoy has known Severus Snape since he was a very young child-- the Hogwarts Potions-Master was an old friend of his parents, and one of the rare individuals whose judgement they genuinely trusted. Draco had at times found Professor Snape to be rather odd in his mannerisms, and his hair always looks unpleasantly stringy and his robes nowhere near as fine as those of the other regular visitors to Malfoy Manor (the high-ranking Ministry officials and Pureblood socialites)-- but Draco had always been taught that Professor Snape is someone he can trust and confide in, or turn to for aid whilst at school, and it would be difficult not to like someone who so clearly favours him. Draco is quite sure that he would know Professor Snape under any circumstances, even if he were in disguise.
No, Draco thinks-- the man who currently wears Severus Snape's robes and name, the man now teaching all of his classes, is clearly an imposter... and he will not be dissuaded, no matter how many times his fellow Slytherins scoff at the notion.
For, unfortunately, Draco is the only one who seems to think so-- nearly all of his housemates have taken Blaise's stance, sure that it will be amusing to watch, and are even exchanging theories and bets... and many of them have developed crushes on the man, much to Draco's absolute consternation.
And it only takes one Potions lesson (his first chance to get a closer look at the imposter) for Draco to deduce the false Snape's true identity-- Draco recognises those piercing silver eyes and sharp cheekbones at once, and is therefore quite certain that the imposter is none other than his disgraced ex-cousin, the escaped mass murderer Sirius Black.
With Snape having evidently been taken out as part of some nefarious scheme, Draco turns to the only member of staff he knows isn't under Dumbledore's thumb.
'Professor Umbridge,' he announces with relish as he strides into her lacy pink office, 'I know who is impersonating Professor Snape!'
To his dismay, Umbridge draws herself up to her full (less-than-impressive) height, and favours him with an icy stare. 'I expected better of you, Mr Malfoy,' she simpers. 'How dare you spread such slanderous lies about our dear Severus?'
Draco gapes at her. 'But-- but that's Si--'
'Silence, Mr Malfoy,' Umbridge snaps shrilly. 'Or I shall have to inform your father of your abominable behaviour.'
Draco's fingernails dig into his palms, his cheeks burning red. '...Understood, Professor Umbridge,' he bites out.
Umbridge favours him with a sickly-sweet smile. 'Excellent,' she titters, dismissing him with a wave towards the door. 'Of course, you will not repeat this utter nonsense.'
'No,' Draco says, still fuming internally. 'I... don't know what came over me, Professor. It won't happen again.' He gives a stiff little bow, and exits Umbridge's office. He thinks her decor is horribly tacky, anyway.
Draco doesn't know how Sirius Black has managed to dupe Umbridge, nor does he know what Dumbledore is playing at by replacing Snape with a convicted murderer (or has Black simply outwitted the old crackpot as well?) but Draco will not give up until he has got to the bottom of this, and come up with irrefutable proof that neither Umbridge nor his Father will be able to ignore.
iii.
Of course Dolores Umbridge had her doubts at first-- she had been the first to wonder what new plot the nefarious Dumbledore was up to, some further attempt to defy her and Fudge and wrest control of the Ministry from its rightful government-- but Severus had come straight to her office after the Feast (with his usual distasteful glance at her lovely interior design choices) and then he had suggested that they share a cup of tea as a gesture of goodwill.
'Veritaserum,' he'd said simply, as he set the small vial of clear liquid on the table. 'As I'm sure you are aware, it is impossible to lie while under the influence.' He arched an eyebrow (much thicker and bolder than his eyebrows used to be). 'You are, of course, welcome to test it for yourself before you administer it to me. A couple of drops will suffice-- that way it will wear off quickly.'
Umbridge had studied his face carefully, then summoned Mr Filch to her office (of course she was not so foolish as to drink the potion herself-- if he did turn out to be an imposter, who could say which of the Minister's secrets she might accidentally divulge). The man's eyebrow had quirked ever so slightly higher, but he had not commented on nor seemed offended by her clear suspicions, but rather had the look of a man who knew he had nothing to hide.
When Filch arrived, the man who claimed to be Snape carefully added three drops of potion to a cup of tea, which Mr Filch drank with an uncertain glance at Umbridge (who nodded primly-- the caretaker was merely a useful subordinate, after all). Mr Filch's eyes went vacant, and 'Snape' proceeded to ask him three questions: his own name, the name of the cat he'd owned in 1971, and whether or not he's a Squib. Mr Filch answered the first two questions without issue (Umbridge learnt that his previous cat had also been named Mrs Norris) but quite obviously struggled at the third, before a pained yes forced its way out through his gritted teeth (Umbridge filed this tidbit away for future use). A razor-thin smirk curled across the Potion-Master's face at Filch's distress, one which Umbridge found deliciously mean-spirited.
Once the red-faced and thoroughly humiliated Filch had been dismissed, Umbridge had splashed a healthy dose of the potion into Snape's cup-- and as soon as his eyes had gone unfocused, she asked his full name ('Severus Tobias Snape'), whether that had always been his name ('since the day I was born'), whether he was working for Dumbledore in any capacity beyond his duties as a Professor ('no'), what happened to him that changed his face ('an experimental transfigurative spell designed for the purpose of untransfiguring an element into its opposite backfired and regrettably struck me directly in the face'), and after running out of other ideas, she rather self-indulgently wrapped up by asking what he'd started doing to his hair to make it so luscious and glossy and full ('I've discovered the wonders of shampoo-- it's truly amazing what a little bit of self-care can do').
The potion had worn off soon after he'd finished describing the new shampoo he's been using, at which point he dryly asked if she was satisfied with his answer, or if she wished to inquire further into his haircare routines. Umbridge had conceded that it was convincing enough-- after all, it is impossible to lie under the influence of Veritaserum, and therefore Severus Snape must be exactly who he claims to be regardless of his changed face (which, Umbridge is pleased to note, is certainly much easier on the eyes than his original one).
And even more importantly, Severus had come not only to prove his identity to her, but also to apologise for past tension between them and to offer his services in exerting control over the student body-- he'd heard that she was fond of using a blood-quill as punishment and offered to make improvements upon the device, in addition to working on some useful potions for her. Really, Umbridge thinks, Severus is actually quite charming once one gets past the prickly exterior-- especially with the changes to his appearance, as his new features have an aristocratic elegance to them (which makes sense, if the backfired spell was related to transfigurative opposites).
No, Umbridge has no cause to suspect Severus Snape, particularly when there are far more important targets to pursue-- the half-breed Hagrid, the fraud Trelawney, and of course Dumbledore's most recent hire, a red-haired man with scars on his face by the name of Romulus Weasley.
iv.
The four Weasley siblings currently in attendance at Hogwarts are all quick to share tales about their long-lost Cousin Romulus, who (according to them) had gone missing while on a research trip to the Amazon when they were very young, where he had travelled to study man-eating plants native to the deep jungle. The intrepid Romulus Weasley had returned to England only this year (after having been presumed dead a decade before) with scars all over his face, his fascination for extremely violent plants not diminished in the slightest by his recent escapades. Rumour has it he has been hired to tend to the Whomping Willow on the grounds, and investigate recent disturbances at the heart of the Forbidden Forest.
'That new gardener looks a bit like Professor Lupin, doesn't he?' says Seamus Finnegan, scowling as he watches Dean Thomas staring at the man's rather striking features.
'Don't be absurd,' says Parvati Patil, sipping her tea as she compares Divination notes with Lavender Brown. 'Professor Lupin didn't have red hair.'
'Besides which,' Lavender adds, 'he's some Weasley cousin, isn't he? I mean, Ron says he's known him since he was a kid, and I'm sure Ron recognises his own cousin.'
Seamus sighs. 'Yeah... I suppose so.' He turns to Neville Longbottom, who has just joined them at the Gryffindor table. 'Hey, Nev-- you've talked to the new gardener, right?'
'Oh, yes!' says Neville. 'I showed him my Mimbulus Mimbletonia, and we had a long discussion about the properties of stinksap-- it's actually really good for the skin, and it's the main ingredient in the most effective known topical treatment for Dragon Pox, and it's useful as a soporific tincture when pruning Venomous Tentacula... He really knows his plants, Mr Romulus does.'
'Seamus thinks Mr Romulus is secretly Professor Lupin in disguise,' says Parvati, rolling her eyes.
'Oi, I never said that!' Seamus retorts, his cheeks flushed red. 'I only said they look a bit similar, is all!'
Neville shrugs. 'I dunno, I wouldn't have thought so, really... but then, I suppose I'm not very good at remembering faces.' He pauses thoughtfully. 'Mr Romulus is very kind, and a good teacher, but it's not as though Professor Lupin is the only good teacher out there...'
Lavender collects her notes into a tidy stack before returning them to her bag, then leans forward on her elbows. 'Speaking of nice teachers, though-- has anyone else noticed that Stupid Sexy Snape is a lot less awful than Slimy Stinker Snape?'
Seamus spits his pumpkin juice upon hearing the former of these nicknames, going even redder, and Parvati giggles and shakes her head. 'I keep telling her that just because she thinks New Snape is hot doesn't mean he's suddenly become a better person-- isn't that right, Nev?'
'I dunno,' Neville says slowly. 'I mean he's still been docking points and favouring Malfoy, and he's already given Harry three detentions this term, but last potions class he actually told me what I'd done wrong, without implying that I'm just too daft to ever get it right? And he explained why the reaction had gone wrong, that adding porcupine quills too soon stops the puffapod beans from catalysing correctly with the frog oil and daisy root, and it's never made sense before... and he told me that if I crush the beans with the flat side of the knife, it releases more juice than cutting it, and also it's easier to keep hold of without it shooting across the room and hitting someone in the head, so...'
So, yes, there is definitely something weird going on with Snape beyond his changed looks-- but all things considered, no one really minds.
...No one, that is, except Draco Malfoy.