The Marauder Monologues

SEVERUS SNAPE: "Third Category"

Let me make one thing clear to you, and you would do well not to forget this: I am not a stupid man. I am extremely intelligent, as proven by my expertise not only with Potions, but with Defense Against the Dark Arts as well. Who better to teach a class about the Dark Arts than one who used to practice them? I could prepare these ignorant children for any kind of danger far better than someone like that halfwit Quirrell, that no-wit Lockhart, or Lupin - Lupin, always one of Dumbledore's pet students. I am more qualified than all of them put together. I am also more intelligent. I am just not as popular.

I have always been this way. I know I should have been Head Boy instead of that disgustingly adored, overrated, egotistical jock on a broomstick, James Potter. Though I must say, I detested him and all of his friends for very different reasons. However, there are those in life slated to play the hero, those cast as the villain, and those who take over a much harder, less well-defined role. I have always fallen into the third category.

No matter who I was working for, whether I loved that mark on my left forearm or not, things in my life have not changed. I have always been faced with disappointments, snubs, and the blatant favoritism of the Potter line. However, I have always been able to bide my time and wait for the moment I needed. It was just that sometimes, those moments were not enough. Life in the third category was never easy or entertaining - but it was living.

In our fifth year, I was, of course, one of the Slytherin prefects. This meant that at all the inter-House prefect meetings, I had to watch Potter, Evans, Black, and Lupin, among various other similarly stupid Gryffindor prats, clown around and amuse themselves. What's worse, I had to watch everyone else admire them for their capers. There was never anything admirable about it. They lacked the focus and the drive that I possessed at that age, and still possess today.

I will admit that by that time, I was affiliated with the Death Eaters. Not officially, of course; neither were my parents. But we came from a long line of pureblooded wizardry, and all of the Snapes who had attended Hogwarts were sorted into Slytherin House. It was a proud family tradition, and each generation was embodied with the values of Salazar Slytherin himself. So, when the Dark Lord, the last heir of Slytherin, rose to power the year before we started school at Hogwarts, my family and all of those families similar to ours jumped at the chance to bring to light our old values. I did not understand this then, but when I got to Hogwarts and began to hear talk of the Dark Lord's supporters and their secret meetings in the Slytherin common room at night, I was intrigued. I attended, learned, strove to please the older members, and realized that they practiced exactly what I had been brought up to believe in. I knew my family would be beyond proud of me, were I to become one of the Dark Lord's chosen servants. I would have a place of honor unlike any other in our family's history.

So yes, I had always planned on becoming a Death Eater. In the beginning, this was not as taboo as it became later on. In fact, through our first three or four years at Hogwarts, being sympathetic to the Dark Lord's cause was simply a means of expressing your heritage - the same as some of those Muggle-borns insisted on carrying on with their Muggle traditions. It was our right. It was only towards our fifth year and later that we really began to concern ourselves with secrecy.

Slytherin and Gryffindor Houses have always held an intense rivalry, in everything from academics to Quidditch to the House Cup. Naturally, the Gryffindor boys in my year were not going to be my friends. But my parents had pointed out to me what most of the other future Death Eaters did not know: Potter was the heir of Gryffindor. This made him inherently dangerous - a wrench in our plan of supporting the Dark Lord. This fact was certainly not publicized, but I knew it then, just as I know now that young Harry Potter is the most recent and only living heir in the line. I do not like him any more than his father, and I make sure he knows that.

I hated James Potter for two reasons: because he was the heir, and because he was undeserving of everything he won. He may have been Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team from his fourth year on, and a prefect, but he should not have been Head Boy. He should not have been as popular as he was. And he should never have gotten away with everything he did - Dumbledore favored him immensely, over every other student.

Lily Evans was a Mudblood. That word is socially and politically incorrect now, but in those days, it was still all right to say, and she was a Mudblood. Her entire family was Muggle, except for her - a questionable lineage of magic. How could anyone be sure her powers were not some kind of fluke or mistake? How could anyone be sure they were not an absolute, irreversible accident? She, like James, should not have been Head Girl. I feel she would have been taken care of early on, had James and his friends not looked out for her.

Peter Pettigrew - a complete loser. I knew it, he knew it, his friends knew it, and so did everyone else. Compared to the School Sweethearts, the Ladies' Man, and the Enigma, how could he not appear to be simply the Fat Kid? His powers were extremely limited, he was never popular or sharp or remotely admired, and he was immature; he always depended on his friends to protect him. But knowing that was a fact that helped sway him to our side, in the end. When his friends no longer had time to take care of him every minute, we were able to offer him that protection...or the guise of it, anyway.

Remus Lupin was a mystery, which combined with his friendship with Potter and Black made him quite well liked. He kept to himself, made excellent marks, and disappeared monthly. These disappearances were obviously a sensitive subject with him, so we used that leverage as much as we possibly could when attempting to incriminate their little gang for something. It was these disappearances that caused the big trouble in the first place.

And if there was anyone I hated as much as James Potter, it was his best friend, Sirius Black. Black was tall and athletic, popular, had girls falling over themselves to be near him. He was also the most stuck-up, vindictive, idiotic prat to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts. I would have preferred several Potters to one Black, he was so infuriating. I would have died to know exactly what he and his friends were up to, so I could turn them in and see them punished as they should have been.

I nearly did. Die, that is.

It began in old Professor Erickson's Potions class, in our sixth year. It was midway through the spring, I remember; the year had nearly ended. Potter, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, Evans, and some other Gryffindor girls were parading into the dungeon, laughing and talking far too loudly. They always did that to show off 'how happy we are.' It made me sick. Serious business was going on in the world outside Hogwarts, significant changes were taking place - there was no time for sports or games or trivial friendships. They had no idea what was going to happen to us when we grew up and graduated.

Black was pointing to me, as usual, and whispered something to his friends. Evans told him to stop - Potter and Pettigrew egged him on. Black cleared his throat and began singing brashly, 'He walks through the school with his nose in the air, The smelly old git with the greasy black hair, He's got no more brains than a Stupefied ape, The slimy old Slytherin Snape!" The Gryffindors in the room applauded; the Slytherins jeered. I stood and approached their table icily.

He stood up as if he were going to fight me, but Potter laid a hand on his arm - how noble. "Putting your limited brainpower to good use, I see," I remarked icily. Glancing at the table, I saw his parchments lying in plain sight on top of his book. I reached down and swiped them, looking through them. "Looks like you don't quite have the brains for Potions, though," I announced to my Housemates, who laughed accordingly. "Dear, dear, tell us: where would you find asphodel root again?"

His face flushed bright red; he reached over the table and snatched his papers back, cursing at me. "Don't let him get to you, Sirius," Evans said, touching his arm.

"Shut up, Mudblood," I snapped at her. My friends cheered for me again - the Gryffindors leapt up as if they would start a fight.

"Don't you call her that!" Potter shouted, jumping to his feet.

"Ooh, defending your slut, Potter?" I taunted. "You're a pureblood - you can do better." I patted his shoulder condescendingly; he slapped my hand away.

"Lily's worth more than your whole family, Snape." Now Lupin was on his feet with Black and Potter, jumping in to defend Evans. I couldn't believe how riled up they had become.

"I seriously doubt that," I said, remaining as icily calm as ever. I knew that was what they hated - when someone wouldn't fight back. Potter's hands were balled up into fists - Evans was trying to hold all three of them back, tugging on their sleeves.

Professor Erickson chose that moment to make her entrance into the dungeon. "What? Fighting?" she inquired, her voice as cold as January frost. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down, little boys. Your marks are too low to be fooling around." I was smirking proudly when she added, much more lightly, "Mr. Snape, if you'd care to sit as well?"

I took my seat, proud of the glares the boys were shooting in my direction. Evans still looked a bit pink in the face; they were all taking turns whispering to her, comforting her, I assumed. The double Potions class was uneventful from Professor Erickson's entrance, but when it was over, the four boys wasted no time cornering me in the nearest empty hallway. I knew they would do it. I saw them send Evans on her way without accompanying her themselves. I let them follow me.

I was very calm as Black took me by the shoulders and slammed me into the wall, seething that if I ever insulted Evans again, I would not survive to be able to regret it. Something along the lines of what I heard every time I had a confrontation with them. My silence was infuriating them all even further.

"Say something, you stupid sod!" Black hissed, pushing me harder into the wall.

I glared at him with what I hoped was dignity. "Say something? All right, where shall I start? That you're all worthless imbeciles? That the only reason you all haven't been expelled for your little pranks is because Dumbledore is an old fool who can't see what's right in front of his nose? Or that I've seen your pal there--" I pointed at Lupin "--being walked off the grounds at night? Do you have any idea how many of us would like to find out exactly where you disappear to at night, and tell the headmaster and then see if you're expelled?"

Pettigrew was, as usual, frightened. "Let's go," he pleaded. "I don't want to stay in the dungeons any more, you guys."

"We'll be done in a minute, Peter," Lupin said rather sharply.

"No, we're done now," Potter said. He was cool-headed now, not angry any longer. Or perhaps beyond anger, simply at the point of fury. There were times you couldn't tell with him. "Leave him, Sirius, he's not worth our time. He's full of shit."

"Right," Sirius said, but took his time letting me go. He stalked away a few paces behind his friends, then seemed to have another thought and turned back around to me. His friends never noticed.

"You say you want to know where we disappear to at night?" he asked, and there was something distinctly unkind in his eyes. "Then why don't you join us?"

I gave a sharp laugh. "You're joking. Bugger off, I'm going to class."

"No, I mean it." He stood in front of me, blocking my path. "Next Saturday night. Meet me in front of the Great Hall at midnight. Don't bring anyone else and I won't."

"Just us?" I asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, if you want to come see what we're doing."

It was a bad idea; there was the stench of trouble all over it. I should have known that right from the start. Black was always out to get me - not that I wasn't always out to get him, I was just far more subtle about it. "Right. You'll beat my arse into a pulp if I come alone."

"Honestly, we won't," he said impatiently. "If we wanted to beat your arse, we'd have done it already. Come on...don't miss your great chance to expel us, Snape."

He started to walk away after his friends, then called back one last time, "Saturday at midnight, Snape - the Great Hall."

He knew I would be there.

Of course I went. How could I pass up the chance to get my four archenemies expelled from school? I believe that was the thought that drew me to the meeting Saturday night that blinded me to the idea that Black had set me up for a fall. I soon found out that he had - in the worst possible way.

I met him, as planned, in front of the Great Hall at midnight on Saturday. "Oh, so you came?" he asked nonchalantly, grinning mischievously.

"Yes, I came." My reply was curt. I wanted to get this over with and report them. "And I fully intend to turn you in, Black. You and your friends."

"Yeah, well, whatever." He seemed totally unconcerned. This should have tipped me off as well, but I overlooked it as Black's usual demeanor - he was always charming his way out of trouble. "Follow me," he said, and started walking towards the steps.

"What, you just...walk out?" I asked, confused.

"No," he said, and stooped to pick something up, "we take this." And he held up something I had only read about : an Invisibility Cloak.

"Where did you get that? Who did you steal it from?" I stammered.

"No one," he laughed, pleased to see me perplexed. "Come on, we have to hurry." He threw the cloak around us, though I could sense that neither of us really wanted to be in such close proximity to one another. He led us out of the school, across the yard, and to the Whomping Willow, whose branches were waving wildly. I could see all this so clearly because a full moon was shining above us.

"The Whomping Willow?" I asked incredulously. "Right, Black. Where are your friends? This is rubbish." I started back towards the castle, leaving him and the cloak behind.

"No, wait!" he said, catching me by the arm. "James and Peter are already inside."

"Inside where?" In response, he pointed to the base of the tree. "Sod off!" I exclaimed.

"No. It's true."

"What about Lupin?"

He smiled slightly. "Oh, you'll see him soon, too."

I couldn't believe it. "Right. You all just climb in the tree and bugger each other all night long, I'm sure. I'm going back; you're full of rubbish, Black. I can't believe I let you trick me into this..." I was still talking as I began walking away, returning to the castle at a fast pace.

"Watch!" I heard him call, and despite myself, I turned around. He had taken a limb, pressed something at the base of the tree, and the branches had stopped to reveal a hole large enough for a man to slip through at the trunk's base. Keeping the broken branch on whatever button he had pushed, Black slipped into the hole, keeping his head out so I could see him. "Come on, Snape - unless you're scared."

With that he disappeared, and I couldn't leave it to end there. Once more, I walked to the tree, only this time something else stopped me.

"Snape! Snape!" I heard someone calling behind me. 'Bugger,' I thought, 'who is it now?'

"Severus!" the voice went on, drawing closer, and I heard the desperate note in it. I looked to see Potter running towards me, not wearing any kind of invisibility cloak or disguise, clutching his wand. "Severus," he cried breathlessly, "it's a trap!"

"What in the bloody hell is going on?!" I snapped. "I've had enough of this, first him, now you - am I to go into your damned tree or not?"

"Sirius...set you up," he panted, gasping for breath. He was beside me now, hands on his chest, trying to get his wind back. He'd obviously run a great distance very fast. "Trap...come back...with me, now..." He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me along with him, but he stumbled and I shook him off me.

"Potter! Tell me what's going on!" I demanded. But before Potter could answer me, I heard a howl that made my spine shiver and my blood run cold. That was no ordinary howl. It was coming from beneath the willow...

"RUN!" Potter screamed, shoving me towards the castle. I didn't move in time - I saw a shaggy black dog jump out from beneath the willow, and then an enormous wolf followed suit. Potter pushed me again, and I finally understood. Full moon - secret hideout - massive wolf. It was a werewolf. Black was trying to get me killed.

"Sirius, help me!" he cried, his voice at a screaming pitch again. He must have truly been frightened - I started to run to the castle, fearing I would never make it in time. I couldn't deflect a werewolf if it scented me... Somewhere in the distance, a girl was shrieking in fright. I felt that way now.

I made the mistake of looking back.

The werewolf was following me, all right - it was gaining on me with impossible speed, its mouth open, its teeth gleaming in the moonlight. The dog kept jumping on it, trying to subdue it, but each time it would miss or the wolf would shake it off. Potter was following fairly closely, screaming, "Stupefy! Stupefy!" over and over again, pointing his wand haphazardly, but that too was ineffective on the wolf. I faced forward and ran faster than I ever had in my life.

I was still feet from the steps when Potter's cries of the Stupefying charm stopped. I couldn't resist looking back again, and what I saw amazed me. Potter took a flying leap through the air and managed to catch the wolf's tail. The werewolf turned around, snapping its jaws, and Potter let go just in time to avoid being bitten. The dog, meanwhile, finally got a good grip on the wolf and jumped, rolling over and over on the ground, locked in a kind of embrace with it. I thought I heard a rat squeaking somewhere.

Then things grew even stranger as Potter transformed, in an instant, into some kind of deer. He and the dog managed to chase the werewolf back beneath the willow tree, pressing whatever button was at the trunk's base and locking him in. The deer turned back into Potter, and, surprisingly, the dog transformed into Black. The rat squeaked again, and Pettigrew seemed to grow up out of the ground. They ran from the Whomping Willow's flying branches, drawing closer to myself and the school; I ran towards them, furious and more scared than ever before, ready to demand to know what had just happened.

I didn't get a chance, though. Potter lost control. I'd never seen him that crazy before - he jumped on Black, taking him to the ground. "You bastard!" he screamed, pummeling Black with his fists, his elbows, his feet, just hitting him as hard as he could anywhere that he could land a blow. "How could you? You nearly killed us all, you gave it away! You could have killed Snape! Remus could have gone to Azkaban! YOU - you're the monster!"

He was nearly sobbing - he was hysterical. Pettigrew tried to pull him off, but couldn't budge him. Out of nowhere, Evans appeared on the scene, crying, "Oh, stop! Stop! James, Sirius, please! Stop it!" And the strangest part was, Black wasn't even fighting. He wasn't moving under James. It was like he had given up, like he knew that whatever happened to him, he more than deserved.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" thundered a voice. We all stopped dead and saw Professor Dumbledore, in his robe and slippers, brandishing his wand above his head. There was a look of unmatched fury on his face. We all fell dead silent.

"Where is Remus?" he asked James urgently.

"In the tunnel or the Shack...he's locked in," James answered, his voice weak. He didn't move from on top of Black's limp body.

"Get inside," Dumbledore ordered, his voice full of a quiet rage. "All of you. Now."

And so it was explained to me exactly what was going on: that Lupin was a werewolf, and he transformed once a month in the Shrieking Shack - which the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow led to. Black explained how he had lured me there, Potter explained how he had warned me just too late, and he and Black turned Lupin back to the Willow. They mentioned nothing of their transformations into animals. If I had been more alert or more quick-witted, I would have mentioned it to Dumbledore then. As it was, I was in shock - Madam Pomfrey was forcing chocolate down me while they were telling their version of the night's events.

If Potter and Evans had not been outside for a midnight stroll, it seems, I would have died. Or worse - I would have become like Lupin.

I was sworn to absolute secrecy, and threatened with expulsion should I let the secret slip. This infuriated me, but if I were expelled, I would be not only humiliated, but useless as well - not a full wizard. I couldn't tell anyone without ruining my own life as well.

Potter and Pettigrew were commended for their bravery. Then both of them and Evans were reprimanded for being out of their beds past lights out.

Black was put on probation for the remainder of the year, kicked off the Quidditch team permanently, disbarred from his position as prefect, banned from Hogsmeade indefinitely, and given a detention for every night til we left for summer holidays. I thought he got off easily. He could have - should have - been expelled.

If I'd known then that he'd end up in Azkaban within the next five years, I might not have minded so much. But none of us really know the future now, do we? I was content to see their little group split up for the rest of the year. That was some small pleasure on my behalf, some small reward for my troubles.

No, we really do not know the future. I speak of that time in what my voice used to be: angry, impressionable, eager to be of use to somebody, anybody. My voice, my words, are different now. I didn't know that in five years I would completely switch alliances that the Potters and Pettigrew would end up dead, that Black would go to Azkaban, and that Lupin would turn up as my colleague. To this day, I can't stand any of them; any that are still alive, anyway.

I was not at all sorry that I let Lupin's little secret slip to the classes. The way I see it is that he has now been loose on school grounds twice in his werewolf form - he is a dangerous creature. Just like Black, whom they allowed - yes, allowed! - to escape after I risked life and limb to catch him.

Life has never been fair to me. I possessed so many of James Potter's secrets, and yet I myself know that I may never tell them to anyone. Some are so far-fetched, who would believe me?

Potter was one of the lucky few who were cast to play the hero - him and his friends. All martyrs for the cause. And Black became the villain. Whenever I think of him, I hope the Dementors catch him and give him the Kiss one day, because he deserves it for so many reasons. But I - I fell into the third category. The one with all the unused knowledge, all the untapped powers, all the untold secrets. The one who has the distinction of having changed sides, of being suspected by somebody everywhere I go. I am a marked man, in more than one way.

I may never be able to tell anyone these secrets. But at least I know.