Severus Snape: The Half Blood Prince

*Prologue: Part 2, Him

Under the sheltering embrace of a grand tree, a Slytherin lay, caressed by a gentle breeze. It was a rare moment of respite, for he relished the freedom from the constant battle of taming his unruly hair.

Despite the forceful wind, the pages of his book remained undisturbed, revealing their wisdom to him with unwavering clarity. The aged aroma of the paper filled his senses, creating an ambiance of scholarly devotion. Engrossed in his studies of potions, he immersed himself in this sublime subject, fully aware of the challenges ahead.

Abruptly, a crack of thunder pierced the tranquility, interrupting his profound musings. His gaze shifted upward, breaking the spell that held him captive as he pondered the enigmatic nature of the approaching storm.

Anticipating the impending rain, he swiftly gathered his belongings. He made his way through the labyrinthine corridors, navigating the vastness of the castle towards the concealed sanctuary of the Slytherin common room. Like an oracle, he prophesied the forthcoming downpour and its unmistakable fragrance that would permeate their underground domain.

After navigating a series of rights and lefts, he arrived at his destination—the low-ceilinged, dungeon-like common room. Greenish lamps cast an eerie glow, while an assortment of skulls adorned the room, imparting an atmosphere of ancient mystique. Situated beneath the lake's depths, it was no wonder that the scent of rain intensified in such moments.

Drawing a deep breath, he approached the door and began uttering the password. Yet, before his words could entirely escape his lips, the door swung open, revealing a striking figure several years his senior. With flowing platinum blonde hair and piercing grey eyes that seemed to reflect the world around them, this older student's presence commanded attention.

The young Slytherin moved aside, allowing the older student to pass, though not without enduring a scrutinizing glance from the handsome intruder. "Watch it, Half-blood," the elvish imp sneered, his words dripping with disdain.

Silently, the young boy pressed on, venturing into the common room. Since it was the weekend, most older students had ventured off to Hogsmeade or dispersed throughout the castle. Though the hour was not late, there was a perceptible lull in activity when the world seemed to exhale and relax. Choosing a seat by the window, he positioned himself to witness the gentle dance of raindrops upon the glass.

He opened his potions book, delving into the captivating realm of the twelve uses of dragon's blood. The text expounded upon its fundamental applications in healing and as a conduit for magical energy. However, the boy scoffed at the idea of relegating it to a mere "oven cleaner" or "spot remover."

Shaking his head in disbelief, he wondered how the revered Headmaster Dumbledore had unraveled the secret of dragon's blood's multifaceted potential, including its ability to cleanse everyday objects. Interrupting his contemplation, he redirected his gaze to the window, where the once frenetic rhythm of the rain had begun to wane. It was not the storm he had anticipated but a fleeting shower that tantalized the earth before retreating.

Closing the potions book, he stowed it safely away in his dormitory, concealing it within a hidden nook to guard against the covetous tendencies of his fellow first-year Slytherins. "As cunning and ambitious as they are, my classmates are fools," he thought, adjusting his robes with meticulous care to present a more polished appearance.