Half-forsaken Prince

«You ask too much of me.»

«I ask only that you do this for us both.»

«I would prefer not to.»

«You must be the one to kill me. It is the only way.»

He’s not a hero, nor a saint — and certainly not a prince.

He looks into the boy’s eyes and wishes he could simply shout Riddikulus!, deluding himself that this is merely the shape of his worst nightmare, that he might still return to that October night in 1981 and save the love of his life. But it is far too late. Those eyes will haunt him forever, as they carry both Lily’s gentleness and James’s arrogance.

He doesn’t know what love is — no one ever taught him.

His mother, Eileen Prince, was a highly gifted witch, from whom Severus likely inherited his remarkable aptitude for magic, particularly the Dark Arts. His father, Tobias Snape, was a Muggle instead. Little is known about him, but his name hints at an unpleasant nature.

From a young age, the constant fights and harshness he suffered shaped a core of his being — one he would perfect over the years, until it became his signature talent: Occlumency.

Even his parents had no regard for his emotions so, closing his mind came naturally to him. No one had ever tried to read it or take care for him. No one until he met her.

In an attempt to escape a painful home life, he discovered a a strikingly beautiful girl living nearby in Cokeworth. He immediately recognised her as a witch. To Severus, Lily Evans was the most enchanting girl he had ever seen: long, fiery red hair and gentle green eyes that could be recognised anywhere, even behind a pair of Potter’s glasses.

Lily was his best friend: his only one. But once the Sorting Hat placed her in Gryffindor, everything changed. Severus began to dabble in the Dark Arts, befriending those who would later become Death Eaters, while Lily grew close to James Potter, a lively and somewhat jealous boy who quickly became Snape’s nemesis.

Beyond the bullying, Severus had many reasons to despise the Marauders: Their interference, James' in particular, made every conversation with Lily more tense, until they ceased altogether.

By the time their Hogwarts years came to an end, the lines were clearly drawn: the Order of the Phoenix against the Death Eaters. Yet, despite standing on opposite sides of the war, Severus and Lily remained linked, bound by the fragile thread of a friendship forged in childhood.

But soon, something would shatter that bond.

Sybill Trelawney spoke the most catastrophic prophecy in wizarding history, and Snape carried what he’d overheard to the Dark Lord, realising too late that he had condemned the Potters, even his beloved Lily.

Severus knew that Voldemort cared for nothing but the child. He pleaded with the Dark Lord to spare Lily, and he would. But Lily had already made the ultimate sacrifice to protect her son.

Desperate, Snape asked the only wizard powerful enough to help him, Albus Dumbledore, knowing in his heart that his master never would.

Dumbledore hesitated, repelled by Snape’s desperate plea to trade the Potters’ lives for Lily’s.

«The Potters trusted the wrong person. So did you, Severus.»

He was there within moments, Lily’s body in his arms, his grief too deep for tears. He longed to die beside her, but death was no mercy. Living to guard her son from the Dark Lord: that was the only redemption left.

Even as a student, Tom Riddle had shown extraordinary magical skill; no one turns into the most feared Dark wizard of all time without mastering something as complex as Polyjuice Potion. He was said to be a gifted Occlumens, though clearly he had never met his match.

Severus Snape — the greatest Potions Master and Occlumens of his age — now lived a double life: teaching by day and surviving by deceit at night.

After Lily’s death, he surrendered himself to a miserable existence. Dumbledore never fully trusted him because of the Dark Mark; the Death Eaters, in turn, distrusted a man who had sought refuge at Hogwarts: the very heart of the resistance.

He was trapped between two worlds, belonging to neither.

Whispers were spreading that the Boy Who Lived was soon to appear at Hogwarts. After years spent teaching bored, talentless pupils, his true mission was about to begin.

Dumbledore had already warned him: He has her eyes.

Snape hadn’t yet heard the boy speak, but he already loathed him. If only he had never been born, Lily might still be alive, and Severus might have had the faintest chance to make things right.

«Harry Potter…»

Gryffindor — just like his parents. The entire Great Hall erupted in applause for their new celebrity. If he took after Lily, keeping him safe would be simple; but if even a hint of his father’s temper ran through his veins, it would be much harder to protect him from his fate.

Among his Slytherins, Snape recognised familiar faces; the children of his old classmates, including Draco Malfoy, arrogant and eager to make his mark. With a grim sense of satisfaction, he noticed that the Welcoming Feast was still underway, and yet Potter had already made himself a Slytherin enemy. The whole scene felt eerily like déjà vu.

Whether it was the troll, the Quidditch pitch, or the Philosopher’s Stone, it seemed he inherited James’s gift for finding trouble wherever he went.

With Sirius Black on the loose, Snape’s mission grew harder, and the stakes higher than ever.

Harry didn't yet understand why Black had been imprisoned, nor the bond he shared with his parents, or with Snape himself, but he would find out soon enough. And Severus, knowing the boy all too well, was certain he'd come looking for him.

After that full moon many years ago, Snape swore that no student — least of all Harry — would ever face a teacher transformed into a werewolf. Every day he brewed Lupin’s Wolfsbane Potion and made sure that, during those stealthy nights, Moony did not seek out old friends.

Why’s Snape awake at this hour? Why did I have to run into him? And how on earth does he even know we’re in the Shrieking Shack?

He would have thought.

With Dementors around, a potential murderer on the loose, and a werewolf prowling the grounds, it’s my job to keep you alive, Potter.

That’s what Snape would have said, if only he could.

Despite everything, it was a lovely night. The moon was rising, and although Black turned out not to be guilty and Pettigrew had escaped, it no longer mattered. Harry was safe.

The Shrieking Shack reminded him of another night, not that lovely, perhaps the second most terrifying of his life. The Marauders used to sneak out of the castle once a month, and one night he decided to follow them.

Young Black had let slip the location of their meeting, so Severus went as well. He would never admit it, but he owed his life to James Potter. Lupin had just transformed, joined by his fellow Animagi, all except James, who, realising the peril Severus faced, hurried to warn him. But Severus paid him no heed.

The werewolf closed in, sensing an intruder, and James transformed into a magnificent stag. Snape had never seen anything like it. He fled as his nemesis risked his own life to save him.

James had saved his life and, that perfect night in ’93, Snape paid off his debt by keeping the young Potter safe.

There wasn’t just Lily’s son to save. Once again he confronted the werewolf, shielding the Golden Trio with arms outstretched like wings, betraying not the slightest hint of fear.

Harry hated him. He spent more time in detention with Snape than in Hagrid’s hut. Yet he would never forget one thing: the difference between Snape’s protective gesture, and Umbridge’s cowardice. She had shoved him and Hermione forward as shields in the Forbidden Forest, while Snape had stood before them, ready to risk everything.

Once the headmaster was gone and the only teacher in the room, other than Umbridge, was Snape, Harry had to make a choice. So he clung to the one undeniable truth: Dumbledore trusted him, so he ought to, too.

«He’s got Padfoot… at the place where it’s hidden!»

«Severus, what is he talking about?»

«… I have no idea.»

It was clear that Harry’s Occlumency lessons had failed, yet that simple I have no idea spoken while their eyes met, carried the weight of a hidden message. Actually, Snape truly didn’t know; the Dark Lord was seeding cheating visions in Harry’s mind, drawing him toward the Ministry.

What is evil? Killing? But if you’re ordered to do it, is it still that evil?

Snape kills for the greater good. If he does not, both he and young Malfoy will die. He kills to save the soul of a seventeen‑year‑old; too young, too innocent to bear its weight. He kills so that Draco might still have a choice. For him, however, it is already too late.

He kills, though he would rather not. He flees without a word of farewell, though every part of him longs to stay. He returns as Headmaster, though he would rather refuse. He must, for Dumbledore’s sake, and for the students and teachers who would otherwise face grave danger. Occlumency had protected him thus far, granting him courage while the world called him a coward, and allowing him to save countless lives without anyone ever knowing.

Snape knew that the Elder Wand answered only to Harry. He knew it, yet let Voldemort believe otherwise, for the Dark Lord would have struck the boy too soon. His mission was to keep harry alive for as long as possible, no matter what. He would see it through, to the very end.

In the Slytherin common room, Voldemort granted him a human death — no curse, no spell. Only the fangs of a snake.

Harry was there. He pressed his hands to Snape’s bleeding throat, trying to stop the flow. In those eyes, Snape was pleading for mercy.

The Boy Who Lived had seen many people die for him, but watching the teacher he despised most lying there, seeking mercy, stirred something deep within him. Perhaps it was the part of Lily that still lived on in him.

He watched Snape die and took the memory, just as he had requested. For once, Snape did not issue a command, yet Harry understood the urgency behind his final gesture.

Snape looked into the boy’s eyes, past the glasses, and saw Lily. In that moment, he knew his sacrifice had not been in vain.

V