Marquas's head was still buzzing with adrenaline the next morning. Whether from the lingering effects of his mental gymnastics with Voldemort or the perhaps ill-advised third glass of firewhisky, he couldn't be sure. Either way, he found himself squinting balefully at the morning sunlight streaming through his dungeon windows, a charm he'd installed himself, since the original Snape apparently preferred to live like a cave-dwelling bat.
"Magical world, and no one's invented magical aspirin," he grumbled, downing a hangover relief potion that tasted like fermented gym socks but mercifully cleared the fog from his brain.
He was halfway through his morning coffee (another innovation he'd introduced to his quarters, the house-elves had been scandalized when he'd requested a proper coffee maker instead of the weak tea that seemed to be standard wizarding breakfast fare) when a familiar silver phoenix materialized through his wall.
Dumbledore's Patronus.
"Severus," it spoke in the Headmaster's calm voice. "I would appreciate your company in my office at your earliest convenience. The password is 'sugar quill.'"
The phoenix dissolved into silvery mist, leaving Marquas staring at the space it had occupied.
"Well, that was dramatically on cue," he muttered, setting down his coffee mug. "Almost like the old man was waiting for me to report back."
He'd been planning to approach Dumbledore anyway, but the summons suggested the Headmaster already knew about the Death Eater gathering. Unsurprising, really Dumbledore always seemed to know everything in the books, often in ways that stretched credulity. Whether it was his network of spies, enchanted monitoring devices, or simply the plot requiring him to be omniscient, the result was the same: Albus Too-Many-Middle-Names Dumbledore was always three steps ahead.
Unless, of course, the plot required him to be conveniently oblivious. Like missing the fact that his Defense professor had Voldemort sticking out the back of his head. Or hiring serial incompetents year after year. Or leaving a baby on a doorstep in November.
"Time to meet the chess master," Marquas sighed, pulling on his new charcoal gray teaching robes. For this meeting, he decided to fully embrace his upgraded appearance. Dumbledore had already seen him at the staff meeting anyway, and he wanted to establish a specific dynamic from the start.
The walk to Dumbledore's office gave Marquas time to plan his approach. This meeting was crucial, it would set the tone for their entire working relationship. In canon, Snape had been so blinded by grief and guilt over Lily that he'd essentially signed himself over to Dumbledore with minimal terms. A lifetime of servitude in exchange for attempting to protect Lily (which had failed) and later her son (which had succeeded, but at the cost of Snape's life).
"Not happening this time," Marquas murmured as he approached the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. "Sugar quill."
The gargoyle leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase that would carry him upward. As he stepped onto it, Marquas mentally reviewed his strategy once more. He wasn't going into this as Snape the Remorseful, he was going in as Marquas the Pragmatist, with clear boundaries and expectations.
The office door swung open before he could knock, another of Dumbledore's little power plays, revealing the Headmaster seated behind his massive desk, surrounded by the usual assortment of whirring silver instruments and sleeping portraits of former headmasters.
"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said warmly, as though they were old friends meeting for tea rather than a spy reporting to his handler. "Thank you for coming so promptly. Please, sit down."
Marquas took the offered seat, noting that it was slightly lower than Dumbledore's own chair, another subtle power dynamic. Fawkes the phoenix watched from his perch, dark eyes inscrutable.
"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" Marquas began, keeping his tone neutral.
"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, studying him over half-moon spectacles. "I understand there was a gathering at Malfoy Manor last night."
Direct and to the point, then. Interesting.
"There was," Marquas confirmed. "The Dark Lord was present, along with his inner circle and several newer recruits."
"And the purpose of this gathering?"
Marquas paused, considering his words carefully. "Primarily to celebrate a successful raid in Cardiff. They obtained some kind of information, specifics weren't shared with the general assembly."
Dumbledore nodded, his expression giving nothing away. "And were you required to... participate in any activities?"
The question was delicately phrased but clear in its implication: had he been forced to torture or kill?
"No," Marquas replied. "The Dark Lord seems content to utilize my skills in potions research rather than field operations. Currently, I'm working on an enhanced Veritaserum variant for him."
"I see." Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "And will this enhanced Veritaserum be effective?"
Marquas allowed himself a small, tight smile. "It will appear to be. Initial tests will show promise. However, the final formula will contain a subtle flaw that causes it to degrade rapidly after brewing. By the time it's used in any significant interrogation, it will be barely more effective than standard Veritaserum."
"Clever," Dumbledore acknowledged, a twinkle appearing in his blue eyes. "Very clever indeed, Severus."
They continued this way for several minutes, Marquas providing details of the meeting, Dumbledore occasionally asking for clarification. It was all very civilized, almost routine which put Marquas on high alert. The Dumbledore of the books was never quite what he seemed, and neither were his conversations.
"I must say," Dumbledore commented casually as their official debriefing wound down, "you seem... different, Severus. There's a clarity about you that wasn't present when last we spoke."
And there it was, the transition from business to the real purpose of this meeting. Marquas had been expecting it.
"I've had cause to reassess certain aspects of my life," he replied carefully.
"Indeed? Any particular catalyst for this reassessment?"
Marquas met the Headmaster's gaze steadily. "Let's just say I've realized that living in the past serves no one, least of all myself."
"A wise realization," Dumbledore murmured. "And what of your feelings for Lily Potter?"
The question was delivered gently but landed like a hex. This, Marquas knew, was the crux of everything, Dumbledore's leverage, Snape's weakness, the foundation of their entire canonical relationship.
"I will always wish her well," Marquas said, choosing his words with precision. "But I've accepted that she made her choice long ago. My... obsession was neither healthy nor honorable."
Surprise flickered briefly across Dumbledore's face before his usual serene mask returned. "That is... an unexpected perspective, Severus."
"Growth often is," Marquas responded with a slight shrug. "I can protect her and others, without defining my existence by unrequited love." he continued, his tone shifting subtly from conversational to businesslike, "I believe it's time we discussed the parameters of our arrangement."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly. "Parameters?"
"Yes," Marquas said firmly. "If I'm to serve as your spy within the Dark Lord's circle, at considerable personal risk, I'd like certain assurances.You get a brilliant spy, someone positioned closer to Voldemort than any of your other sources. In return, I want full academic freedom in my teaching position and zero meddling in my personal affairs."
Dumbledore's expression remained pleasant, but a calculating look entered his eyes. "Academic freedom?"
"I want to teach Potions my way," Marquas clarified. "No interference in my curriculum, my grading standards, or my classroom management. Hogwarts' potions education has been stagnant for decades, I intend to change that."
"I see," Dumbledore said slowly. "And by 'zero meddling,' you mean...?"
"I mean that while I will report to you on Death Eater activities faithfully and completely, my personal life remains my own. No manipulation, no emotional leverage, no expectations beyond our explicit agreement." Marquas kept his gaze steady.
A long silence followed this declaration. Dumbledore studied him with an intensity that suggested he was trying to solve a particularly complex puzzle. Fawkes shuffled on his perch, emitting a soft musical note that somehow diffused the tension in the room.
Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "You've changed indeed, Severus. "
"That man you're taking about was controlled by his worst impulses," Marquas replied quietly.
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Very well. You shall have your academic freedom, within reason, safety must always be our primary concern with students, of course."
"Naturally," Marquas agreed. "I have no intention of endangering children."
"And as for 'meddling,'" Dumbledore continued with a slight twinkle, "I shall endeavor to respect your personal boundaries, though I hope you'll permit an old man the occasional well-intentioned advice."
Marquas allowed himself a small smile. "Advice I can handle, Headmaster. It's the chess master treatment I'd prefer to avoid."
Dumbledore actually chuckled at that. "A fair assessment of my tendencies, perhaps. Very well, Severus. We have an agreement." He extended his hand across the desk.
Marquas shook it firmly, feeling as though he'd just negotiated a significantly better contract than the original Snape had managed. "Thank you, Headmaster."
"Now, about your first classes," Dumbledore said, smoothly transitioning to school business. "Term begins next week. I understand from Horace that you've already been reviewing the curriculum?"
"Completely overhauling it, actually," Marquas replied, relaxing slightly now that the critical part of their meeting had concluded successfully. "The current textbooks are outdated, the practical exercises inefficient, and the safety protocols nearly nonexistent. It's a wonder there haven't been more serious accidents."
"I look forward to seeing your improvements," Dumbledore said with apparent sincerity. "Fresh perspectives can be invaluable in education."
They spent another fifteen minutes discussing school matters before Marquas rose to leave, satisfied with how the meeting had gone. He had established boundaries, secured autonomy, and positioned himself as a valuable but independent ally rather than a guilt-ridden pawn.
As he reached the door, Dumbledore called out one last question. "Severus? May I ask what prompted this remarkable change in your outlook?"
Marquas paused, hand on the doorknob. He turned slightly, offering the Headmaster a cryptic smile. "Let's just say I had a near-death experience that put things into perspective."
It wasn't even a lie.
Back in his quarters, Marquas immediately pulled out his journal and added a new entry:
Day 9: Negotiated with Dumbledore. Didn't let him manipulate me into lifetime servitude. Progress.
He tapped his quill against the parchment, considering his next steps. With both Voldemort and Dumbledore now established in his life, the real work could begin. The delicate balancing act of providing enough real information to both sides to maintain credibility, while strategically misdirecting when necessary to save lives.
But there was another element he needed to address: the prophecy. In the original timeline, Snape had overheard part of Trelawney's prediction about a child born at the end of July who would have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. He'd reported it to Voldemort, who had eventually interpreted it to mean either Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom.
The prophecy has not yet been made, so he will do everything in his power to stop this war, to end Voldemort silently, without the Dark Lord ever realizing that someone knows all his secrets. He will destroy every Horcrux within a year, ensuring that Harry grows up without fear, without the weight of a dark destiny looming over him. No anxiety, no battles, just a peaceful future, the life he deserves
Marquas began jotting down notes for a very special potion one that would appear to enhance Voldemort's strength while subtly clouding his judgment regarding certain magical threats. If he could convince the Dark Lord to ingest it regularly, perhaps he could nudge him away from his obsession with the violence.
"Playing both sides against the middle," he murmured as he sketched out preliminary ingredients. "While trying not to get crushed in between."
It was going to be a challenging line to walk. Voldemort was paranoid and brilliant. Dumbledore was manipulative and equally brilliant. One misstep with either could mean death or worse.
But for the first time since arriving in this strange fictional world, Marquas felt like he had a fighting chance. He had established himself with both leaders as valuable but not entirely predictable. He had secured a position that allowed him to influence events while maintaining some degree of independence.
Most importantly, he was free from the crippling emotional baggage that had defined the original Snape's existence. No more pining after Lily. No more being driven solely by guilt and bitterness.
"New Snape, new rules," he declared to his empty laboratory as he began setting up cauldrons for his experimental potion. "And rule number one: survive long enough to rewrite this story."
Not bad for someone who'd been hit by a Prius less than two weeks ago.
Now he just had to figure out how to sabotage a magical terrorist organization from the inside without getting caught. Preferably while developing a revolutionary potions curriculum and maintaining his new hair care regimen.
"No pressure," he muttered, slicing dandelion roots with practiced precision. "