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‘Don't you feel like Snape's been acting a bit strange in the last time?’ Hermione brought up the topic of conversation at breakfast. Several Gryffindor heads turned to the teacher's table where Snape was sipping his black morning coffee, and when he realised that the students were paying far too much attention to him, he gave them one of his famous hateful looks.
‘You're right, I noticed it too!’ agreed Ginny, ‘He helped Professor McGonagall sit at the table at dinner on the very first day, and he even bowed when Professor Sprout came into the hall!’
‘And then in the last Potions lesson,’ Ron muttered with a piece of toast in his mouth, "when Neville's cauldron exploded again and his table was covered in soot! We thought Snape was going to blow it up. But he just told Neville to wash up quickly because the ladies were in the room and it wasn't worthy of a gentleman to look like a scruffy peasant in front of them."
‘Cho told me,’ Harry spoke up, "that first years in Ravenclaw are threatened with beheading or the gallows if they don't hand in their homework on time. And he wanted to send the two girls who were having fun in class to a “Schreckhud Forest”, or whatever it was called, where the eloquence would wear off if they faced the robbers there."
‘Hey!’ Luna greeted them and sat down on the bench next to Harry. "You're talking about Snape, aren't you? I was just sleepwalking again last night and when I woke up, I was standing in the corridor outside the music room. Someone was playing the fortepiano. I had no idea Professor Flitwick could do that, I always thought he couldn't reach the pedals, so I peered curiously into the room. And there was Snape sitting at the piano. He played really beautifully. I listened to him for a while. And when he noticed me, he smiled at me!"
A smile on Snape's face?! That must be a mistake. At that moment, the post owls flew into the hall and a huge parcel landed in front of Neville.
"What are you waiting for! Unwrap it!" said Ron excitedly.
Neville took the parcel and began to unwrap it with trembling fingers. He hadn't realised that he could easily undo the knots with his wand. His grandmother had never sent him anything this big before. What could it possibly be? After an interminably long five minutes, Neville had finally undone the string and a thick book with the title page appeared on the table in front of him:
AQUAMILUS HERBCOLLECTOR
The herbs around us and their universal uses
‘Who sent you this?’ asked Hermione, who was visibly fascinated by the literature, in an envious voice.
"I have no idea. There's no letter in it," Neville replied. He opened the book and on the first page, in small, neat writing, it said, 'Enjoy it! It will show you the way.'
A WEEK AGO
Snape sat on a chair in his study, a glass of Bordeaux in his hand, a brand new book of several hundred pages on his knees, which dealt with the previously unpublished effects of selected forest and field herbs. Like the professors and teachers at all Muggle schools, there was a compulsory preparation week at Hogwarts. Many professors used it to draw up timetables or plan study activities and, of course, to get used to the school environment after the holidays. Snape didn't need to adjust. He was finally back home. He had returned to Hogwarts four days ago, the things he had brought with him over the summer were back in place, all the tasks related to his position as Headmaster of Slytherin had long since been completed, and now he was simply enjoying a pleasant time with good literature and a good drink. The peaceful atmosphere in Snape's study was disturbed by the unexpected landing of a snowy owl on his desk. Snape was so startled that he spilt a whole lot of wine all over his snow-white shirt and the fifteenth and sixteenth pages of his book.
‘Bloody vermin,’ he muttered between his teeth, picking up his wand and beginning to repair the damage. Only when the shirt and the book looked the same again did Snape turn his attention to the owl, who was visibly uncomfortable at having to wait so long and was showing her nervousness by soiling the polished work surface. That was too much for Snape. He snatched the letter from the owl's beak and ushered her out of the study with a quick flick of his wand. He glanced at the letter, which bore Dumbledore's seal. What could the headmaster possibly want from him? The teachers' meeting was yesterday and he had long since completed all his tasks. He broke the seal and read.
Dear Severus,
allow me to invite you to a small party to celebrate the start of the new school year tomorrow evening in my office. I accept no apologies.
Best regards, Albus
Well done, thought Snape as he stared angrily at Dumbledore's invitation. That's all I needed. Another pointlessly wasted evening. Besides, school starts the day after tomorrow!
The next day, at exactly seven o'clock in the evening, Snape knocked on the door of Dumbledore's study and when he was told to come in, he entered. Almost all the teachers were already in the room, including Mr Filch. Only Professor Hooch was missing, who, as Dumbledore had explained to everyone, had flown to Hogsmeade for dinner but had to walk back because of a fault with her broom. Snape looked around the room, grabbed a glass of wine and went to his favourite spot by the fireplace. Hopefully he could wait out the courtesy lesson here in peace and then leave with a clear conscience. But he had no peace. During the course of the evening, he was visited by almost all of his colleagues, who obviously sensed that he was lonely in the room and wanted to distract him with their holiday experiences. However, Snape didn't feel the need to tell anyone what he had done on holiday and with whom, so the conversation was more like a monologue.
When Professor Hooch arrived about an hour later and Snape was slowly preparing to retreat to his office, Professor Trelawney clapped her hands and demanded attention.
‘My dear colleagues,’ she addressed everyone in the study in a strangely theatrical voice, "I have a feeling that there is a very special aura in this room today, and we might as well invite our dearly departed relatives into our midst. Let's all come round the table and take a seat. We're going to have a kind of “séance”," she invited hers to a table that suddenly appeared in the centre of the room. All the professors sat down on their chairs more or less enthusiastically, only Snape hesitated.
‘Severus, don't be asked,’ Dumbledore turned to him, ‘and come and sit with us so that Sibyll can begin.’
Snape drank the remaining contents of his glass with a deep gulp and very reluctantly took the last available chair. Dumbledore muttered a spell and the whole room was suddenly plunged into darkness, interrupted only by a small flame flickering above the tabletop.
‘Take your neighbours by the hand and raise your heads,’ commanded Professor Trelawney. She sighed loudly, her eyes sparkling strangely behind thick glasses: "Think of your loved ones, of the worries they can relieve you of. Let them come to us!"
Snape, who was holding Filch with one hand and Professor Flitwick with the other, just rolled his eyes at Sibyll's next breath. What is he even doing here! What's the point of summoning the dead like this? Of course, there are certain methods - a certain type of slightly darker magic that could be used to do this, and he would certainly have dared to do it himself, but such a thing requires both great caution and exceptional magical aptitude, which Sibyll certainly did not possess in Snape's opinion.
"Think of your ancestors. Let them come to us!" repeated Professor Trelawney.
Snape's thoughts turned to how to utilise the dark magic. It would take much more time than a measly séance, of course. A suitable day would probably be a full moon day. And he would certainly need something from the person who was to appear. His hair, or at least an object he possessed.
But who would he even want to summon? Of his relatives, he only knew his parents. And it was impossible to say that he had a cordial relationship with them. He certainly wouldn't want to meet them. The only thing that would interest him was who the founder of his family was. And what about the fondness for potions? That too must have been passed down through the generations.
His flow of thoughts was interrupted by Sibyll, who was obviously not doing as well as she had imagined and was therefore looking for an excuse for her failure.
‘Someone in this room is having second thoughts,’ she said in an almost tearful voice, ‘and that's why the dead won't be showing themselves today.’ Snape just grinned. ‘And I get the impression, Severus, that it's you!’ She added in offence.
‘Please,’ Snape looked at her, lightning literally shooting out of his eyes, ‘I don't have to be here!’ He got up from the table and walked briskly out the door, not forgetting to give her a good shove.
At last! At last he would have a moment of peace. He saw himself sitting on the chair next to his book and hurried into the dungeon with quick steps. His coat was blowing behind him and he seemed to be flying from behind.
He reached his study, muttered a spell, opened the door and stared straight at his desk (which had been so terribly soiled by Dumbledore's owl yesterday) when... Wait a minute! Something's wrong here. Snape glanced into the corner of the room, where there was a coffee table and two leather armchairs. Two male figures were sitting on them. Did he end up in the wrong flat? Rubbish! After all, this was HIS desk, HIS bookshelf, HIS armchairs and, by Merlin's beard, HIS wine, which they were sipping! Snape pointed his wand at the two of them.
‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’ he asked in an icy voice. He stepped closer to them and couldn't help thinking that he had seen them before. They were both dressed in dark clothes. One had a beard, a luxuriant shock of black hair, and what he wore might have been a fashion hit, perhaps sometime in King Richard's time. The other looked like he'd stepped out of a nineteenth-century painting. He had lighter hair, a good-natured expression and wore high riding boots that went perfectly with black trousers and a coat that was very similar in cut to Snape's.
The professor ran his eyes over both of them from head to toe and back again, wondering who the men looked so much like as it dawned on him. Oh my God! It almost looks like he's looking in a mirror! They look like him!!! Snape wondered suspiciously what was going on. Could someone have used a polyjuice potion? Someone like Potter and Weasley? It would be similar to them. But how would they get to Hogwarts before the school year started? No, that's impossible.
The man with the light brown hair stood up first and approached Snape with a smile. ‘Good evening, Severus,’ he said, "be so good as to lower your wand. We don't want to hurt you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Colonel Christopher Brandon, your great-great-great-grandfather, and this is George, the Sheriff of Nottingham." At the mention of his name, the Sheriff stood up.
‘Show yourself, my boy, and let me see what you've become!’ the Sheriff said pointedly, patting Snape on the back, which the Potions Master took with great displeasure.
‘How did you get here?’ Snape asked.
‘How? You called us here,’ the sheriff wondered at his question. ‘We're here to help you.’
‘But I don't need any help,’ Snape replied. ‘I just need my peace and quiet and more time to read!’
‘But that's exactly what we can help you with,’ Brandon smiled.
Snape hesitated. He had ruled out the possibility that someone had used the Polyjuice Potion, but the fact that these two men had turned up was so baffling that he could not yet logically explain their presence.
"Since I seem to be the eldest here, let me introduce myself first. I am, as you say, a Muggle," said the sheriff. "I love money, guns, women and also riding. I wanted to marry a certain Marianna, but she was taken from me by an upstart called Robin of Locksley. Together with his gang, he robbed me not only of her, but also of all my possessions and....ehm...my life." The sheriff's face contorted into a hateful grimace and his hands clenched into fists. ‘What is not known,’ he continued, a mischievous smile forming on his lips, "is that I fathered a son in my lifetime. Well... There was probably more than one child,‘ the sheriff raised an eyebrow and looked at his two listeners to make sure they had understood him, ’but this one was extraordinary. It was created with a witch." The sheriff paused, took a sip of wine and continued in the face of the imaginary question marks hanging over the heads of the two men. "Eris was my cousin. Like all my relatives on my mother's side, she was involved in black magic. She was invited to a banquet I gave in honour of the sudden passing of old Mr Locksley." The sheriff was gloating. "The wine and whiskey flowed freely, the atmosphere was relaxed. Eris wasn't particularly pretty, but I had a sip then, a word was spoken, you know.... Well, nine months later she had a child, Brutus was his name, who, as it turned out later, inherited her powers and abilities. Fortunately, we got the boy to safety before young Locksley invaded my castle. And as you can see, he survived and started a family."
Silence fell again in the hall, which everyone took advantage of for refreshments. Then was Colonel Brandons turn.
"I am a magician. However, I haven't used magic for years. I come from a pureblood family. When I was young, I fell in love with a certain girl, Elise. We wanted to get married, but my parents prevented it. The secret was that it was because of the money, because Elise was poor. But in reality, it was because of her background. Elisa was a Muggle. I hated my parents for ruining our lives, so I enlisted in the army and went to India to be away from them. In India, I learnt about potions. There I discovered a whole range of ingredients that were very rare or even unknown in Europe, but there they grew almost everywhere. I healed many soldiers with my potions. I have to admit that some of them were very aromatic. And the soldiers back home said that the air in India smelled of spices. In reality, it was the vapours from my laboratory." Colonel smiled to himself at this memory.
"Shortly after I returned from India, my parents died. I searched for Elisa for a long time, but when I found her, she was dying and I could no longer help her. After that, I lived alone on my estate for many years. One day, when I was in my late thirties, a Mrs Dashwood and her three daughters moved into our neighbourhood. And the middle one, Marianne, literally cast a spell over me. She reminded me very much of Elise, in her character, her manner, even her looks. And so I tried my best to impress her. It wasn't easy, because there was a certain Willoughby, an awkward man, nearby, for whom Marianne obviously showed affection. But I didn't give up. I admit that I sometimes used a little innocent magic. For example, I sent her flowers fertilised with a special potion so that they were fragrant and didn't wither. Or when we played bowling, I would cast a spell on a ball so that Marianne would hit the target every time. However, her attitude towards me was still quite cold. That only changed after an incident when I saved her life.
After their unhappy affair with this Mr Willoughby, the Dashwoods left London with the Parkers. I accompanied them on their journey. When we arrived at the Parkers' estate after many hours, Marianne thought she was going for a walk in the garden. But she went much further and it started to rain heavily. It took me almost two hours to find her. She had caught a cold and by the end of the evening she had a fever.
It was very serious and the doctor didn't give her much hope of getting better. So I mixed up a restorative potion and gave it to the doctor in the hope that he would give it to her. Fortunately, he did, and Marianne soon recovered. I then spent a lot of time with her and sensed a warmth and affection in her behaviour that grew stronger and stronger and eventually became true love. To solidify her feelings a little, I read her poems from my collection “How to Charm Muggle Girls...Forever and Ever”. And a few months later we were married. We had several children together, all of whom had inherited magical abilities. When our eldest son received a letter from Hogwarts, I had to tell my wife the truth. Marianne accepted the fact that I was a wizard very bravely, but I had to promise her that I would give up magic so that she could be happy with me without magic. And she was. We had a really long and happy life together."
The room fell silent again and the two visitors expected Snape to finally say something about himself. But he finished his drink in silence, then stood up and said,
"It's late, gentlemen. Good night." With those words, the dark silhouette moved into his private chambers. Before he closed the door behind him, he mumbled something and two camp beds with sheets appeared in the study. Then the door closed behind him.
As Severus Snape lay in bed that day, sorting through his thoughts about what had happened in the last few hours, he was extremely pleased with himself. Without using black magic, he had managed to summon someone from the afterlife by force of will. Of course, he never for a moment admitted to himself that Professor Trelawney could have played even a small part in this. He fell asleep thinking about how to make the best of the situation, and a bold plan began to form in his mind. When he woke up the next morning, he was in an unusually good mood. They were going to help him, so why shouldn't they? He put on his robes and took two more out of the wardrobe.
He slathered his freshly washed hair with a homemade conditioning oil that didn't exactly make his hair look gorgeous, but it did take care of it, and Snape couldn't remember the last time he'd lost hair. He honestly dreaded the thought of ever going bald. He didn't dare offer the product to the Dark Lord, but he could certainly look a lot better after using it.
With his cloak under his arm and his wand up his sleeve, Snape entered the study. Colonel Brandon was already dressed and sitting in his armchair, the sheriff still dozing contentedly on the cot. Snape's loud clearing of his throat woke him up quickly, however.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Snape greeted, placing their robes on the table. "I've been thinking about what you suggested yesterday regarding your help. After all, there is one thing you could do for me." He scrutinised the two men again from head to toe with his gaze. Yes, that would certainly work. A few small alteration spells would suffice and the result would surely be perfect. "I would like to ask you to take over my lessons for a few days. It won't be too difficult. Colonel, you have experience with potions, and you, Sheriff, will be going to the first-year classes. All you have to do is scare them a little. Agreed?"
‘But Severus, of course we'll help you,’ said Brandon, "that's what we're here for. When should we start?"
"Right away. The students are coming on the train in the evening."
‘But, my boy,’ the sheriff replied, still sitting on the bed in his nightshirt, ‘although there's no denying a certain resemblance between us, don't you think we're a little different on the outside?’
Snape smiled mischievously. ‘Typical Muggle reaction,’ Snape remarked quietly, a slightly contemptuous tone in his voice. Then he pulled his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it at the sheriff. "I don't think that will be a problem. Expecto duplicatus meus!"
Before the sheriff knew it, his beard disappeared and his hair became longer and shinier. The Colonel's appearance demanded more concentration from Snape. Not only did the length and colour of his hair not match, but the good-natured expression in his eyes also had to be adjusted. But Snape handled even that with ease, and in less than half an hour, three absolutely identical Severus' in black robes stood in the study. The real Severus handed them their timetables, gave them final instructions on how to run Hogwarts, wished them good luck and went back to his dormitory.
After six days, when Snape's strange behaviour had become a rumour among the teachers (not to mention the students), Snape closed his book. A really great piece of work, he thought. He looked down at the pile of parchments on which he had made notes while reading and which was now several centimetres higher than his inkwell. Although his memory was excellent and he already knew the book de facto by heart (how similar he and Hermione were in that respect!), he still preferred to write down the most important things. If only it would read the hopeless case called Neville Longbottom!
Maybe he would at least get a job in Herbology, since he was so impossible in all the other subjects. And suddenly Snape had a literally great idea. He opened the book, dipped his quill into the ink and wrote something in small letters on the first page. Then he waved his wand to pack up the book and, with a satisfied look, went to his doppelgangers to tell them what he had in mind. But all he found in the study were two folded robes. The relatives had disappeared.