enly as Severus Snape)
By Duke Imperio & FINA
Eric stirred.
The surface beneath him was hard—cold like stone—and the scent of damp stone and old parchment filled his nose. He opened his eyes and saw... green. Deep green curtains surrounded the bed he lay on. The room was dim, lit by a faint glow from sconces along the stone walls.
"This isn't home," he whispered, only to freeze. The voice wasn't his.
It was low, gravelly, and older than it should've been. He bolted upright, the heavy duvet sliding off him. His limbs felt foreign—long, thin arms and pale fingers. Trembling, he swung his legs off the bed and staggered toward the large mirror across the dormitory.
What stared back at him was no 15-year-old gamer from 2020.
It was Severus Snape. Or rather, a younger Snape. His black eyes were hollow and deep-set, framed by oily, shoulder-length hair. He looked ill, haunted. A teenage boy with an ancient soul.
"No... no way."
Eric pressed his palms to his face, hoping the dream would break, but it didn't. He glanced down. His reflection mimicked every twitch, every breath. He was in Severus Snape's body. But not the stoic, bitter man from the books or films—this was young Snape. A student.
He stumbled backward and fell against the wall, heart racing.
"This isn't possible. This is crazy."
The door creaked. Eric's head snapped up. A pale boy with blond hair poked his head in.
"Snape, you all right? You're late for breakfast, mate."
Eric blinked. "Uh... yeah. Just... bad dream."
The boy snorted. "Figures. You spend too much time reading those cursed books. C'mon, Mulciber and Avery are already down there."
Then he was gone.
Eric looked back at the mirror. "Okay. Don't panic. Think, think."
---
Memory Leaks
As he dressed—black trousers, a silver-embroidered green tie, and heavy robes—fragments began bleeding into his consciousness.
A girl's laugh. Lily Evans. Bright hair, bright eyes.
Pain—sharp, shameful—echoing from a scene by the Black Lake. James Potter's wand drawn, Sirius jeering.
And something darker. A whisper that hissed like smoke through his ears: "There is power in names, Severus. And yours will be known."
Eric clutched the desk to steady himself. He wasn't just in Snape's body. Snape's memories were leaking in—painful, fragmented, like oil in water.
The world outside was dangerous. Snape wasn't safe. But... maybe Eric could be.
He pulled open Snape's worn trunk. Inside: potion vials, quills, notes in fine, spidery script. Beneath it all, a battered leather journal.
"S. T. Snape – Private"
He opened it.
The writing was dense and angry. Notes on charms, incantations, brewing methods—and at the bottom of one page, something else. A page headed Rituals of Renewal: Notes from the Restricted Section.
Eric's pulse quickened.
"Beauty is perception. Perception, magic. With the right components, one may transfigure the self—temporarily or eternally."
Beneath the quote, a list of ingredients:
Mirror of Unveiling (source unknown)
Hair of the self (for identity tether)
Blood from three houses (for balance)
Phoenix feather ash (for permanence)
A focus object of "true self"
And one final line in scrawl:
"May awaken latent potentials: charisma, soul-link knowledge, memory resonance. Warning: Incomplete ritual may fracture mind."
Eric sat back. This wasn't just a potion for looks. It was a transformation—mental and physical. A chance to be more than Snape. To be... himself.
Handsome. Charismatic. Technologically gifted.
If this worked, he could unlock Eric's intellect, fused with Snape's magical prowess.
---
First Test of the World
He walked through the Slytherin common room in a daze. Students whispered greetings—some friendly, some wary.
He spotted Avery and Mulciber talking in a corner, laughing about some poor Ravenclaw who'd been hexed with donkey ears. Eric felt bile rise in his throat.
"Snape!" one of them called. "Coming to Charms or brewing again in your dungeon?"
Eric forced a smirk. "I've got... research. Something special."
"Suit yourself, dungeon bat."
He ignored them.
---
First Glimpse of Lily and the Marauders
Charms class. The classroom was warm and filled with the hum of levitating quills. He took a seat in the back, trying to stay unnoticed.
Then she walked in.
Lily Evans. Beautiful, alive. Red hair tied back, her emerald eyes scanning the room. She smiled briefly at him. At him.
Eric's breath caught.
Then the Marauders came in. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. All young, confident, arrogant. James immediately stared down Snape.
"Snivelly," he sneered, under his breath.
Eric fought the urge to hex him—or run.
The class passed in a blur. Lily occasionally glanced back. Eric could barely focus on his wand. But something inside him—the fusion of memory and instinct—made it work.
---
Nightfall and Resolve
That night, in the dormitory, Eric stared at the ritual notes again. The ingredients were rare, some almost impossible. But he would find them.
He touched the diary, then a mirror on the wall.
"If I'm stuck in this world… I'll be more than a victim. I'll be someone people respect. Someone they follow."
He flipped open a fresh page and began rewriting the ritual—refining it with a mix of magical theory and Eric's modern logic. Diagrams, formulas, spell modulations.
Magic meets technology.
He would become Severus Snape reborn. Not feared… but envied.
Admired. Brilliant. Unstoppable.
---