Chapter 3 : Facing the Day (rewrite)

As he began his morning rituals which was surprisingly pleasant as the the Slytherin dorms everyone has their own private bathroom,he made another realization. Today marked the beginning of his journey to become something more than the Severus Snape everyone knew. He was going to make changes, starting with himself.

"Let's see if I can fix a few things," he muttered, running a hand over his face. The crooked nose, the awkward teeth—there had to be spells for that, right? Pure-bloods in this world were known for their vanity, so surely someone had come up with a way to correct such flaws.

Desmond flipped through a spellbook he'd brought along, scanning for anything that might help. "Ah, here we go. Nose-fixing spell," he said, finding an entry titled Figere Nasum. "Hmm, 'Warning: You may experience slight pain due to the shift in the bone of the nose.' Well, shit."

He hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged. "No pain, no gain, I guess." Taking a deep breath, he raised his wand to his face and said, "Figere nasum."

Crack.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Fucking lying book, slight pain my fucking ass. That hurt like someone kicked me in the balls and then stamped on it. God, it hurts..."

The pain subsided after a few moments, and Desmond straightened up, blinking back tears.

Once he composed himself, he looked into the mirror. The nose was straight, a noticeable improvement. He allowed himself a small, satisfied nod. "Alright, one down," he muttered. "On to the next."

He flipped through the book again, looking for a spell to clean and straighten his teeth. "Here we go—Mundus Dentes, the dentist's ultimate enemy. Perfect." Desmond cast the spell, and a cooling sensation spread through his mouth. It was strange but pleasant, like a breeze on a hot day. When he looked in the mirror again, he was greeted by a row of perfectly white, even teeth.

He couldn't help but grin, and this time, it looked much better than before. His reflection had transformed, the subtle changes bringing out a sharp, almost regal appearance. A straight nose, a jawline that seemed more defined, and those piercing dark eyes that carried a hint of something new—confidence. Well, Severus, he thought, maybe people won't just see the greasy kid in the corner anymore.

After finishing up his morning rituals and cleaning himself up he left his room and entered the Slytherin common room.

The faint, flickering glow of the Slytherin common room's green lamps cast eerie shadows across the walls, making it feel like he was still submerged in a dark, quiet ocean. Desmond liked it that way—it reminded him of the subtle power that Slytherin House thrived on.

There was a certain elegance in the shadows, a grace in the way the green light mingled with the dark. It was a far cry from the blinding, in-your-face cheeriness of the Gryffindor common room, which he had seen in movies and read about in books.

He glanced at the enchanted clock hanging above the fireplace. It was early, earlier than most students would dare to be awake, but Desmond had never been one to sleep in. Not when there was so much to do, so much to learn. And today was no exception.

Reaching into his suprising comfortable robes,he grabbed his wand(the magic one),the feeling of the cool, smooth wood against his palm was comforting—a reminder of the power he wielded, the control he could have if he played his cards right. In his past life, Desmond had always craved control. That was part of what drew him to the idea of being Severus Snape in the first place. Snape was a character who had always seemed to be one step ahead, always plotting, always scheming. Desmond could work with that. He could make it better.

As he moved towards the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the small, tarnished mirror by the entrance. The reflection staring back at him was still unsettling yet there he was with a fixed nose better teeth and long hair not as greasy due to using some of the hair product Lucius had bought him he looked every bit the Slytherin he was, a proper aristocrat, a man of ambition the last and sole heir of house prince.

"Today's the day," he said quietly to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Today, I start changing things."

Desmond stepped out of the common room and into the dungeon corridors, the cool, damp air hitting his face like a slap. He drew in a deep breath, letting the chill wake him up fully. The dungeons were quiet, the kind of silence that only existed in the early hours of the morning, and Desmond liked it. It gave him space to think, to plan. As he walked, his mind was already racing, formulating the first steps he needed to take.

The corridors twisted and turned, like a maze, but Desmond navigated them effortlessly. Severus's memories were a map in his mind, guiding him through the dark, familiar paths. He had grown up in this castle, after all. Hogwarts was more than just a school to Severus—it was home. It was a sanctuary, even if most of its inhabitants treated him like an outcast. Desmond could feel those old emotions swirling inside him, and he had to take a moment to push them down. He was not going to let Severus's past dictate his future.

As he neared the entrance to the main part of the castle, Desmond heard the faint echo of footsteps behind him. He tensed, glancing over his shoulder. For a moment, he thought it might be one of the Marauders—James Potter or Sirius Black, coming to taunt him before the day had even started—but the corridor was empty. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. He couldn't afford to be jumpy. If he wanted to survive here, he had to be composed, calm, and collected.

The castle was beginning to stir. As he made his way towards the Great Hall, he passed a few students yawning and stretching as they shuffled down the corridors, still half-asleep. Some of them glanced at him, their eyes narrowing slightly, but no one said anything. Desmond ignored them, focusing on his destination. He had a lot to do today, and he couldn't afford to waste time.