Unexpected Fate (Severus Snape x Reader)

𝟕𝟎 - 𝓣𝓸𝓻𝓷

The torches along the ancient stone walls of the Great Hall flickered weakly, their feeble glow barely managing to cut through the thick, suffocating air that hung over the room like an oppressive shroud. The vast chamber, usually filled with the warm hum of voices, now stood in complete and utter silence, every single student and professor standing motionless in tense, rigid rows, their eyes trained on the solitary figure at the front of the hall.

Some of the younger students clutched at their robes, their fingers tightening around the fabric as if it could shield them from the suffocating tension in the air. Their wide eyes flickered between one another, searching for reassurance they wouldn't find. The older students, those who had endured the Carrows' merciless rule, stood motionless, their faces carefully guarded—some with quiet defiance, others with a fear so deeply ingrained it had become second nature.

Along the periphery of the hall, the professors stood just as still, their expressions carefully composed, though the weight of their silence spoke volumes. Their gazes remained fixed on him—the man who commanded the room with nothing more than his presence, his sheer authority sending an unmistakable chill through me.

At the head of the hall, standing tall and immovable in front of the long staff table, was Severus. His presence was as commanding as ever, his black robes flowing in heavy, inky folds around him, making him look like nothing more than a living shadow. His expression remained unreadable, a carefully constructed mask of indifference and cold detachment, his dark eyes sweeping over the assembled crowd with slow, deliberate precision, as if he was memorizing each and every face before him.

His hands, always so controlled, remained tucked into the depths of his robes, a gesture that only added to his unsettling composure. Yet, I knew him well enough to recognize the rigid tension in his posture—the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw, the fleeting flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. If there was even the slightest trace of hesitation beneath the surface, he concealed it masterfully.

And then, without preamble, he spoke.

"Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you at this hour."

His voice, smooth and deliberate, sliced through the heavy silence like a blade, sharp and unwavering, each word carrying effortlessly through the vast hall as though he had no need to raise his volume to command absolute attention. The weight of his words settled over the crowd like a suffocating fog, pressing against every shoulder, creeping into every breath, as the students shifted uncomfortably where they stood, some casting nervous glances toward one another while others simply stared ahead, their faces betraying nothing but quiet apprehension.

"It has come to my attention that Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade."

The instant his name was spoken, a ripple of movement spread through the gathered students, hushed murmurs breaking through the silence as bodies shifted, heads turned, and wide eyes flickered toward one another, filled with something between hope and dread. For a brief moment, it was as though the very air inside the hall had changed, as if something had been reignited, something fragile yet powerful.

Yet Severus remained motionless, his expression unreadable, his voice calm and measured, betraying nothing.

"Now, should anyone—students or staff—attempt to aid Mr. Potter..."

He let the words hang there for a long, suffocating moment, allowing the unspoken threat behind them to seep into the air, to curl around every mind present, to settle deep within the bones of those who dared to hope for something more.

"They will be punished... in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression."

The sheer coldness in his voice, the absolute authority behind his words, made the weight of his presence feel even heavier, suffocating in a way that no one could ignore.