Hogwarts, Slytherin Common Room
The rest of the day was a complete blur for Severus.
He didn't know how he managed to get his feet to move from class to class, nor could he recall what he'd eaten for lunch—if he'd even eaten at all. Everything felt disconnected, as though he were watching himself from outside his own body.
And now, somehow, he found himself in the Slytherin common room.
The green glow of the underwater windows cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, but he barely noticed. He had bolted straight here after lunch, desperate to escape the watchful eyes and whispered snickers of his peers. Even Bruce's concerned glances felt suffocating.
He needed to be alone.
Collapsing onto one of the worn leather sofas near the fire, Severus buried his face in his hands, his breathing ragged. His mind churned with frantic questions, none of which had answers.
What the hell is happening to me?
The voice had been silent since Potions class, but its absence wasn't comforting—it was unnerving, like a predator lurking just out of sight. Every time he replayed the scene in his head, the way his body moved on its own, the words that weren't his spilling from his mouth, a fresh wave of dread washed over him.
He glanced around the empty common room, ensuring he was alone, before letting out a shaky breath. His hands were trembling as he held them up to the firelight, half-expecting to see claws or some other monstrous change. But they were just hands. Normal. Pale.
"You're losing it," he muttered to himself. "You're completely losing it."
"No, you're finally finding it."
The voice was back.
Severus flinched, his head snapping up as he looked around the room. It was empty—of course it was—but that didn't stop his heart from pounding in his chest.
"Leave me alone," he hissed under his breath, clenching his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
"You keep saying that, but I'm not the enemy here." The voice was calm, almost soothing. "You're fighting what you are, Severus. Fighting your own nature."
"My nature?" he whispered harshly, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "What are you even talking about? I'm human. There's nothing else to me."
The voice laughed, a low, melodic sound that sent chills down his spine. "Oh, my darling boy, if only you knew."
Severus's stomach twisted. He leaned forward, gripping the edge of the sofa as the weight of those words sank in. He didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know. But the question burned in his throat, refusing to stay silent.
"Knew what?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The fire in the hearth flickered violently, the green flames casting strange shadows across the room. The voice didn't answer immediately, letting the silence stretch unbearably.
Finally, it spoke. "Your mother's legacy. And your father's curse."
Severus's breath hitched. He shook his head, his fingers tightening on the armrest. "You're lying. You're just—some hallucination, or some spell. This isn't real."
"Keep telling yourself that," the voice said, its tone soft but laced with amusement. "But the truth is in your blood, Severus. And no matter how much you deny it, it will come out eventually."
Severus's blood froze at the sound of the common room door slamming open. His spiraling thoughts screeched to a halt, replaced by a surge of panic.
A group of students from his year poured into the room, their loud chatter and laughter filling the once-quiet space. Severus tensed, instinctively shrinking into the sofa as he tried to avoid their attention.
But, of course, fate wasn't on his side.
Bruce's eyes landed on him almost instantly, a grin spreading across his face as he led the group straight toward Severus.
"Look who it is!" Bruce announced, his voice booming. "The guy who gave Prince Potty a run for his money!"
A ripple of laughter followed, and Severus felt every pair of eyes in the room turn toward him. Heat rushed to his face, his mind scrambling for something—anything—to say.
"I didn't—" he started, but his voice was drowned out by Bruce slapping him on the back.
"Come on, mate, don't be modest! I've never seen James Potter look that stunned before!" Bruce chuckled, plopping down on the sofa beside him. "It was brilliant!"
The others chimed in, throwing in comments and jabs about James's face or how unexpected Severus's words had been.
But Severus wasn't listening.
His thoughts were a tangled mess, half-focused on the voice in his head and the other half on the fact that no one seemed to notice anything off about him. His claws, his sharp teeth, his glowing eyes—they weren't saying a word about any of it.
"See?" The voice purred in his mind, smug and satisfied. "I told you, they only see what you want them to see."
Severus's jaw tightened. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to yell at it, to demand answers, but not here. Not in front of all these people.
Instead, he forced himself to nod at Bruce, offering a weak smile. "Yeah. Sure. Brilliant."
Bruce gave him a curious look, but it passed quickly. "You alright, mate? You look a little pale."
"I'm fine," Severus muttered, his voice low. "Just tired."
"Well, don't let those Gryffindor idiots get to you," another student chimed in, a smirk playing on their lips. "You're not the only one who's had enough of their arrogance."
The group laughed, but Severus barely heard it. He was already planning his escape, his eyes flickering toward the dormitory stairs. If he could just slip away unnoticed—
"Running away again?" the voice taunted, cold and mocking. "How predictable."
Severus swallowed hard, his hands gripping his robes as he stood abruptly.
"I need to—" He gestured vaguely toward the stairs. "—finish an assignment. Excuse me."
Before anyone could question him, he bolted for the dormitory. He could hear Bruce calling after him, but he didn't stop.
The moment he reached the sanctuary of his room, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it, his chest heaving.
"You can't keep running, Severus," the voice whispered, quieter now but no less intrusive. "Sooner or later, you'll have to face what you are."
"Shut up!" he hissed, pressing his hands to his temples as if that would silence it. "You don't know me. You don't know anything about me!"
The voice didn't laugh this time. Instead, it spoke with an eerie calm that sent a chill down his spine.
"Oh, but I do, my darling boy. I know everything about you. And soon enough, so will you."
Severus sank onto his bed, his head in his hands. Whatever was happening to him, it wasn't over. And the worst part? Some small, terrified part of him wasn't sure he wanted it to stop.
Hogwarts, Slytherin Boys Dorm
Severus woke with a jolt, his heart pounding in his chest. His first thought was to avoid everyone at all costs—to get through the day without facing questions, whispers, or it.
But as he sat up, the sight before him stopped him cold.
His sheets were shredded, ribbons of fabric scattered around him like the aftermath of some violent storm. His breathing hitched, his hands trembling as he held them up to inspect the damage.
His nails were long again, sharper than before, gleaming in the faint morning light. They caught against the remnants of his sheets as he clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up.
"This can't be happening," he whispered to himself, his voice shaky. "This isn't real."
"It's very real," the now-familiar voice cooed, calm and unbothered. "But you're making it harder on yourself, Severus. If you'd just accept it—"
"No!" he hissed aloud, cutting it off. He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the torn sheets in his haste. His hands shook as he grabbed his wand from the bedside table.
"Reparo," he muttered, pointing it at the sheets. But instead of stitching themselves back together, the fabric ignited, flames licking at the edges before fizzling out.
He stared in horror at the smoldering remains, his wand hand trembling.
"Oops," the voice said, almost mockingly. "Looks like you're still adjusting."
"Leave me alone!" Severus snarled, gripping his wand tighter. He turned toward the forms of his sleeping dormmates before he hurried into the bathroom and locked the door. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he braced himself for the worst. The pale, hollow-eyed boy he had seen yesterday morning was gone—again.
Instead, the same hauntingly unnatural version of himself stared back. His hair, longer and darker than ever, seemed to move slightly as if carried by an unseen breeze. His eyes, still streaked with faint red, glowed faintly in the dim candlelight. The sharpness of his features was exaggerated, his cheekbones prominent and his teeth, though mostly hidden behind closed lips, looked sharper when he moved.
Severus gripped the sink with both hands, his knuckles white. "What do you want from me?" he hissed, hoping to summon the voice for answers.
For a moment, there was silence. Just the sound of his ragged breathing and the faint dripping of water from the faucet. Then, like a thread of smoke curling into his mind, the voice returned.
"I want you to stop running," it said, calm but insistent. "You can't hide from what's inside you, Severus."
"What's inside me?" he spat, his grip on the sink tightening. "You keep talking in riddles. Just tell me what's happening!"
The reflection in the mirror shifted, his other self stepping closer to the surface of the glass, its crimson-streaked eyes narrowing.
"You're changing, Severus. Becoming what you were always meant to be."
He shook his head violently, backing away from the mirror until his back hit the cold, tiled wall. "No. I don't want this. I didn't ask for this!"
"It doesn't matter what you want," the voice said, quieter now but no less firm. "You were chosen long before you even understood what that meant."
"Chosen for what?" Severus demanded, his voice cracking. "To become some… some monster?"
The reflection smirked, the red in its eyes glowing brighter. "Monster? No, Severus. Something much greater."
Before he could respond, a sharp knock at the bathroom door jolted him out of his daze.
"Severus?" Bruce's voice called out, sounding irritated. "You've been in there forever! And what happened to your bed, mate?"
Severus's heart raced. He turned back to the mirror, but his reflection was back to normal—pale, tired, and unremarkable. The glowing red eyes were gone. His hair looked limp and greasy, barely brushing his shoulders.
He splashed water on his face, trying to steady his trembling hands. "I'll be out in a minute," he called, his voice shaky.
The silence in his mind was deafening, but he knew it wouldn't last. Whatever was happening to him wasn't over—not by a long shot.