Severus Snape: The Half Blood Prince

*Prologue: Part 1, Her

*~~(( You can skip this chapter if you are a new reader and want to get straight into the story!))~~*

"If you keep watching the same movies repeatedly, you are going to rot your brain," my mother's voice echoed in my mind, a nagging reminder of her disapproval.

I heard her words, but they didn't deter me from my chosen path.

'Get. A. Life.'

Her implied words rang loud and clear, like a broken record stuck on repeat. Yet, this time, they stirred a flicker of unease within me.

"Mom, you don't understand. I just finished re-reading this book, and now I am watching the film for proper analysis. And this time, it is actually for a class," I shot back, a tinge of defiance creeping into my tone.

"Do not get an attitude with me. I have had it up to here with your laziness!" Her voice grew shrill, laced with frustration.

With a forceful swing, she flung open the door to my room, her eyes scanning the space. "Look at this mess. It is disgusting in here," she scolded, her disapproval palpable.

In truth, my room was far from messy. There was a lone pair of shoes on the ground, and my bed was only half-made.

Undeterred, she trudged to the closet, yanking the door open. "Clothes everywhere!" she exclaimed in exasperation.

Of course, it was a closet. Clothes were meant to hang in such a device.

Frustratedly, she tore the shirts and dresses off their hangers, hurling them onto the carpeted floor. With a huff, she slammed the closet door shut, leaving the light on as a silent reminder of her disapproval.

"You call THIS clean? I'm done with you," she stormed back into the room. With thundering footsteps reverberating through the house, she snatched my laptop from the desk and slammed it shut. "This is gone until you get your act together."

As she stormed off, her anger trailing behind her, I sighed wistfully, yearning for the freedom to live without such constant criticism.

////////////

I wasn't the type of teenager who crumbled quickly. If you took away one device, I had another. Take away my laptop, and I had my iPad. Take away my iPad, and I still had my phone. And if all else failed, I had my beloved books. Oh, how I loved books.

So, no matter what obstacle I faced, it was always a win-win situation.

But back to the matter at hand.

The movie I had started watching was the sixth installment of the Harry Potter series, "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince." I had just finished re-reading the book earlier that day, immediately after indulging in a quick snack.

The Half-Blood Prince held a special place in my heart, second only to "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban."

Both the films and books featured the beloved Marauders and the enigmatic Snape, my favorite character of all. Alan Rickman's portrayal breathed life into the brooding and complex character, seamlessly capturing his essence on screen.

My purpose for reading the book and watching the film wasn't mere entertainment; it was for a film class. We were assigned to choose a book from a predetermined list and then meticulously analyze how its movie adaptation compared. Did it stay faithful to the source material? Were there any missing details or intriguing additions?

Naturally, I chose Harry Potter.

Who wouldn't?

It was August 31, a Friday. The promise of autumn lingered in the air, with a slight chill and gray sky. It was 5:43 in the afternoon, the perfect time to embark on a cinematic journey.

We had been back in school for almost a month, the routine of tests and occasional drama settling in. I convinced my friends to accompany me to football games, ensuring I wouldn't be the only one enduring the experience.

In those moments, we cheered, but our conversations mostly revolved around our shared fandoms and the latest memes.

Oh, how my friends adored memes.

But this story isn't about them. It's about me—a high school student who despised driving, adored reading, writing, and drawing, and held a deep affection for Severus Snape: flaws and all.

////////////

I rose from my seat and drew back the blinds, revealing a sky shaded with hues of gray, with raindrops beginning to rattle against the windowpane.

A smile tugged at my lips.

This weather, the gentle rain, held a special place in my heart. It brought me joy and serenity. Whether I was strolling along a nature trail, immersed in punk-pop melodies, or cycling through the neighborhood, it seemed like the perfect backdrop for any activity. And nothing beat cozying up on the couch, wrapped in a snug, non-itchy blanket, engrossed in a book.

And oh, how I loved thunderstorms.

Sometimes, I would sit on my bed, leaning against the backboard, and gaze at the Hogwarts Crest poster adorning the back of my door. The emblem displayed the phrase "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus" alongside the symbols of the four Hogwarts houses:

Gryffindor.

Hufflepuff.

Ravenclaw.

And Slytherin.

Sorting tests always placed me on the cusp of Ravenclaw and Slytherin, each time a 50/50 split. It seemed fate couldn't decide between valuing my intelligence or my cunning ambition. Would I embrace knowledge or prioritize self-preservation?

Knowledge?

Self-preservation?

Knowledge?

Self-preservation?

Back and forth, I went with each personality test, seemingly destined to switch between the two houses. The last one I took deemed me a Ravenclaw, which meant the next test would undoubtedly place me in Slytherin.

My attention was redirected to my iPad as I reached the climax of the confrontation scene between Harry and Snape.

"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them – I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so... no."

Harry lunged for his wand, but Snape swiftly cast a hex that sent it flying into the darkness, out of sight.

"Kill me then," panted Harry, his voice devoid of fear, replaced only by rage and contempt. "Kill me as you killed him, you coward -"

"DON'T!" Snape screamed, his face contorting into a demented, inhuman mask, his agony mirroring the yelping dog trapped in the burning house behind them. "CALL ME COWARD!"

As lightning cracked outside my bedroom window, my eyes flinched in response, the sudden flash momentarily blinding me. It was peculiar, though, as no thunder accompanied it.

Silence.

Then, with a resounding boom, the thunder followed suit, reverberating with immense power. It seemed as if the thunder desired to instill awe and trepidation in all who heard it.

But not me. I cherished the earth-shaking tremors caused by atmospheric phenomena.

As the gray skies faded into shades of stormy black and navy, my weary eyes yearned for rest. I retreated beneath the covers of my bed, surrendering to the gentle lull of sleep aided by the crackling symphony of the weather outside.