Head canon: since Severus grew up poor, he found it difficult to let go of things he considered could still be useful, so he adapted the cauldrons that the students ruined to use as his personal plant pots 𖹭.ᐟ
From Student to Staff: The Adults Who Watched Him Break, Then Welcomed Him Back
Severus Snape didn’t just return to Hogwarts as a professor. He returned to a castle full of ghosts—not the ones who drifted through walls, but the ones who once looked through him. The ones who had titles, robes, and responsibilities. And Merlin, the way they smiled when he came back.
These weren’t strangers. These were his former teachers. The ones who watched him unravel—slowly, painfully, obviously. They saw the weight—emotional bruises no child his age should have been burdened with. They noticed the robes that hung too loose, the way his voice softened into nothing, the eyes that dulled year by year. And then, as if memory had been Obliviated, they greeted him with polite nods and teacups.
Let’s name them. Let’s drag the velvet curtain back. Let’s ask what they refused to.
🧙♂️ Albus Dumbledore — The Grand Strategist of Silence
He saw everything. The twinkle in his eye? That was calculation. Dumbledore knew Severus’ pain. Knew his background. Knew the Marauders were brutal, and knew exactly how Hogwarts worked for boys who didn’t shine the right way.
And what did he do? Nothing.
Not until the prophecy.
Not until Severus—broken and desperate—came crawling with regret.
Only then did Dumbledore offer protection. And even then, it wasn’t mercy. It was strategy. It was cost-benefit arithmetic.
He kept Severus close, yes—but not out of trust. Out of necessity. And in that same chessboard logic, he raised Harry the same way. A pawn to be protected, yes, but only until it was time to be sacrificed.
Severus recognised it all too well. The same cold detachment Dumbledore had shown him as a man—keeping him close, not out of care, but for utility—was now being applied to Harry. Despite the tangled mess of resentment and reluctant protection he felt toward the boy—born of Lily, shaped by James—Severus could see the pattern. He could see the purpose.
He saw through it: "You've kept him alive so that he can die at the proper moment. You've been raising him like a pig for slaughter!"
Two lives. One broken young, the other burdened late. Both groomed to serve, both shaped for sacrifice—and in the end, perhaps, both meant to die on cue.
And when the war ended, Dumbledore offered Severus a position—not because he sought to make amends, but because it served a purpose. Severus had returned to spy, initially under orders, a reluctant shadow caught between masters. And once the mask was worn long enough, Dumbledore simply let it stay.
As if a professorship could heal years of sanctioned cruelty. As if being called "Professor" would cleanse the memory of being a punchline in the corridor.
⸻
🧪 Horace Slughorn — The Collector of Potential
He loved talent. But only when it glittered.
Slughorn praised Severus’ brilliance in Potions—called him promising, sharp. But he never once shielded him.
He didn’t invite him to the Slug Club. Not until Severus’ name meant something. Not until his mind could decorate a shelf.
Slughorn’s affection was conditional. You had to be charming. Presentable. A legacy. And Severus? He was none of those things. Just a poor boy with a hungry mind and no surname to flaunt.
And perhaps that is why, years later, Severus held nothing but quiet disdain for him. Because if anyone should have noticed what was happening in the shadows of Slytherin House, it should have been its Head. Not McGonagall. Not Dumbledore. Slughorn.
He should have seen it first. And yet—he didn’t.
Slughorn used him on parchment, but never sat beside him in reality.
⸻
🐈⬛ Minerva McGonagall — Sharp-Eyed and Selectively Blind
Minerva loved her lions. James Potter was golden in her eyes—brave, brilliant, bold.
She watched him torment Severus in broad daylight. She called it mischief. At best, she scolded. At worst, she said nothing.
She taught Severus Transfiguration. She saw his talent. But she never once stepped in when he was dangling upside down in a public corridor.
And years later? She called him Severus. Perhaps it was meant as respect. Perhaps it was all she had left to give. But even that name, spoken in her steady voice, must have tasted hollow.
Because if I were Severus, I don’t know what I would feel beneath the careful nods and professional courtesy. Not really.
Respect? Yes. She was formidable, fair—in her own way. But also a bystander. A witness to pain who never raised her wand.
The bitterness would have settled in strange places. Not hatred. Not fury. Just that sharp ache that lingers when someone could have helped—and chose not to.
As if calling him by name could erase the silence that came before it.
⸻
📚 Filius Flitwick — Gentle, Brilliant, Absent
Flitwick was kind. Clever. Charms master of immense skill. The sort of professor whose praise felt like sunlight.
And yet—he kept to his corner. He didn’t speak up.
Severus wasn’t just a good student. He was exceptional. The sort of student whose talent should have lit up the classroom like a Lumos Maxima—quiet, focused, effortlessly precise. The kind of brilliance that doesn’t need to shout because it radiates.
He invented spells. Created incantations from scratch. If anyone in Charms class should’ve stood out like a blinking sign under a spotlight—radiating silent brilliance from the back of the room—it was him. You didn’t need him to speak to notice. You just had to be looking.
Surely Flitwick noticed. How could he not?
But maybe noticing brilliance wasn’t the same as seeing pain. Maybe house loyalty got in the way. Maybe the politics of Slytherin versus Gryffindor made it easier to stay silent.
Perhaps he thought it wasn’t his place. Perhaps no one ever taught the professors how to reach past a student's wandwork and into their wounds.
And so, in the silence between spells, a boy learned that even kindness could be hollow.
⸻
🌿 Pomona Sprout — The Kind Bystander
Warm, earthy, nurturing. That was Sprout’s image. A Hufflepuff’s dream.
But she, too, looked away.
Maybe she frowned at what she saw. Maybe she clucked disapproval over tea. But she never interrupted the hierarchy.
Not when Severus slouched through corridors like a shadow. Not when he withered a little more each autumn.
She believed in fairness—but not enough to fight for it.
⸻
🏥 Madam Pomfrey — The Healer Who Didn’t See
Out of all the professors, Madam Pomfrey may be the one I find myself most curious about. Not because she was cruel—she wasn’t. Not because she was blind—she couldn’t have been. But because if anyone should have noticed—it was her.
She could spot a fractured rib with a glance. She healed Quidditch injuries between spoonfuls of broth. Her hands were warm, her wards comforting.
And yet… she didn’t notice Severus returning each term thinner, paler, greyer?
No trace of curiosity when he flinched at loud spells? No quiet pause when he walked too carefully, too lightly—as if even the castle floors might punish him?
Did she not see the hex marks? The magical burns? Did she really miss the boy who never sought help unless he was near collapse?
Or perhaps... he hid it too well. Perhaps he wore silence like a second robe. Perhaps he'd already learned that pain, when visible, only made you more vulnerable. That vulnerability made you expendable.
But still—she was a healer. She would have known the signs. Malnutrition. Exhaustion. The long-term magical residue that clings to a child who’s been hexed too often.
Pomfrey, as matron, was in a position to notice it all—if he had come to her. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he knew better than to hope.
We know his home life wasn’t gentle. Tobias Snape, his father, was a drunk—furious, unkind, loud enough to silence the whole house. We weren’t shown every bruise or every scream, but we were shown the aftermath.
So when Severus came back each September—robes loose, eyes dimmed, voice flat—surely, surely she must have seen something. Anything. A flicker of concern. A whisper of doubt.
To be fair, we cannot fully blame her. Hundreds of students passed through her care. She healed what was asked, tended what was brought. Perhaps she was simply overwhelmed. Perhaps she assumed someone else would act.
But still… I can’t help but wonder.
She offered pepperup potions to those with sniffles. She wrapped bandages around bruised Gryffindors.
But Severus? The boy who never asked, who needed most?
She offered rest to others.
But not to him.
⸻
They all had eyes. They all had wands. They all had duty—but they wore it like a decorative cloak, not a vow.
And oh, how one wonders. How could they not see the bruises? The shoulders pulled too tight? The voice too low?
How could a castle brimming with portraits, portraits that whispered and staircases that listened, miss the slow crumbling of a child?
Perhaps they did see. Perhaps that’s what makes it worse.
Because silence isn’t always ignorance. Sometimes, it’s a choice. Sometimes, it’s self-preservation masquerading as neutrality. Sometimes, it’s indifference dressed as decorum.
And still—they looked away.
Severus Snape returned to Hogwarts as a man.
But once, he was the boy they failed.
And they seated him at their table as if none of it ever happened.
When I was still at Hogwarts, I had never the chance to visit a Christmas market. But now I can. I was in the next town near my home, but it wasn't very nice there, and Spinner's End itself is too grey and dirty to host a market like that. The grey would absorb every single light without the chance to light...
And another point changed. I shouldn't plan something. I wanted to visit Paris, but now I'm in the high North of Germany. Funny, isn't it?
So here I am, and believe me, I will enjoy the time here.
The plague doctor and I were on tour again. We love to scare people. But a little girl thought it would be funny to laugh. I asked her, if she had any idea who I am, she said no.
I am, I said and came closer to her, Severus Snape!
It is very early in the morning when I arrive at the Fairy Pools at the Isle of Skye. I see not a single soul out here. What a pleasure!
I walk and climb until I reach my destination, put off my clothes and jump into the ice cold clear water.
This reminds me of the time at Hogwarts, when I was up at a time when others still were asleep.
No one disturbed me while I was swimming in the Dark Lake. The water was cold, too, but this here is colder. I like it.
After diving I notice someone. I look up and see a young woman standing there, her cheeks blush, because she thought she would be alone. She smiles and winks at me, turns around and walks away.
But ... Was she trying to flirt with me? I'm flattered.
Another foggy morning in Spinner's End. But to be honest, I really appreciate this new freedom I've been given. I enjoy the quiet early morning walks when there is no one on the street. Life goes on and it is better than before.
Why I didn't post any stories about our favourite Potions Master? Why it is so quiet in the last time?
I'm working on a bigger project and I have a exhibition of my art. So I'm very busy at the moment, but I will come back with wee stories about Severus. I still have no idea when...
Here is my latest work, and it is sold.
More about my art, my work and me are on Facebook, Pinterest and Instagram, if you want to know more about me.
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15 questions for 15 friends (but who the hell has 15 friends on here?)
Thanks for the tag @postmariannizm and sorry for the late reply.
Named after anyone?
Yes, I’m named after my uncle’s Greek mother. My aunt (my mom’s sister) and her husband didn’t have any children, so my mom decided to name me after my uncle’s mother.
Last time you cried?
Yesterday, unfortunately. I cry easily.
Have kids?
No way. I would be in over my head. I can’t afford them anyway.
Sports play/have played?
I was in ballet for a year when I was four years old. I really enjoyed it and wanted to get to the stage of wearing pointe shoes. I wish I could have continued for years to come, but my family had a lot of financial and health issues that prevented that from happening. I also enjoyed swimming just for fun.
Use sarcasm?
What do you think?
First thing you notice about people?
Crooked teeth and large facial moles. It sounds a bit mean, but that’s what I notice.
Scary movies or happy ending?
Happy Endings are my favorite. Our darling Sev should have had a happy ending. 🖤
Talents?
Good long term memory and attention to detail
Where were you born?
Orlando, Florida
Pets?
I want to have a cat in the future.
Tall?
No, I’m petite. Just 5’3”
Favourite subject in school?
History
Dream job?
Professor, Writer, or Professional Lottery Winner lol
Hobbies?
Reading, Watching movies and old tv shows, and Going to concerts. I just wish I had more time and money to go to all the shows that I want to see.
Eye colour?
Brown
Tagging: @mermaid886 @kitsunegari0508 @snifellus @serpenera @ensnapemysenses @roseburning @dufferpuffer @daniiduna86 @rosie-love98 @thatweirdchristians @sneepseverus @sacredsnape and anyone else who wants to participate
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