Chapter 08: Some days are just ruined before the even start.

[Part 01: Waking up to bad news.]

When I finally awoke from my beauty sleep, I felt odd, as if I am different, better yet worse at the same time.

Somewhat, like having a hot chick in your bed, but realizing she is not your girlfriend! Deep down you feel smug about landing a chick like her, but you worry what to do if your Girl finds out.

'I don't know what is going on, but I think whatever it is, is not going to be something that I will like,' I instantly thought upon reaching a clear state of mind.

Have you ever had this moment in your life where you know shit has happened, and your mom is gonna beat your ass for it, and that the beating is more inevitable than Thanos's finger snap?!

Well, this is how I felt at this particular moment!

I hate mornings, and having mixed complicated feelings, is not helpful in making me change my attitude.

I don't know why or how, but I can feel it in my guts that today is gonna be a bad day.

"Young master, you are awake!" I hear someone saying, and I feel it grating on my nerves. I am usually not easily annoyed, lie, but waking up worried and feeling this unsettling feeling makes my mood even worse than usual.

Not only that, but when I open my eyes and see Slavto's big ass eyes ogling me like I am Riley Reid. And he is that big ass nigga, the one with the schlong as big as a baseball, and tattoos all over his body.

*Shiver*

'Why am I even thinking about this comparison?!' I wonder, annoyed at my own brain for being too visual.

I mean, I literally have stuffed my head with memes, porn, and crap that I can potentially use to ruin the world, or at least someone's day.

"Slavto, where is Grandpa?" I ask him.

"He is on the way, young master. I have already informed him that you have awoken. The Lord is pleased that you survived the ritual," Slavto says happily.

'Wait a second?! I survived?! Was there a possibility I could have died?' I wonder, annoyed. My mood sinks even further, if that's even possible.

"Help me get dressed up and washed," I order Slavto, who immediately snaps his long, bony fingers in agreement.

Clothes fly out of my wardrobe and hover in front of me, allowing me to choose what I want to wear for the day. I opt for a black set of robes, the kind that I know will billow behind me as I walk.

How did Ra's al Ghul say it? "Theatricality and deception are powerful agents."

After about fifteen minutes, just as I finish getting dressed, the door opens and my Grandfather enters the room, exuding his usual air of authority.

"Oh, you chose the black ones?! Makes you look like a bat!" he remarks as he settles into one of the chairs in my room.

"I think it suits me," I reply, waiting for Slavto to finish adjusting my tie.

"And I think, that you did not inherit my good taste in clothing!" my grandfather retorts.

"What good taste?! You look as if you're a muggle!" I throw back at him.

"Well, them muggles have a fine taste in clothing and life." he replies while fondly touching his own attire.

"Whatever! Tell me why I am feeling so weak and why I have this odd feeling?" I ask the elderly man.

*Cough*

"WELL,YOULOSTHALFOFYOURLONGEVITYINEXCHANGEFORBECOMINGAPURE-BLOOD,BUTYOUDIDITWILLINGLY,ANDITISNOTMYFAULT!" he says loudly and very quickly.

"What did he say?" I ask, requesting him to repeat what he said moments ago.

*SIGH*

"The lord said,'WELL,YOULOSTHALFOFYOURLONGEVITYINEXCHANGEFORBECOMINGAPURE-BLOOD,BUTYOUDIDITWILLINGLY,ANDITISNOTMYFAULT!'"Slavto repeats, which only further annoys me at the damn elves today.

*Cough*

"You are feeling tired because you have lost half of your essence, and this comes at the cost of half of your time on earth, aka your longevity," he explains, looking away ashamedly, his features seeming to age before my eyes.

"...You are kidding, right?!" I ask after a very long moment of silence.

"No, I am not! The ritual cost you much, but now you're of pure blood and have the family magic," he says.

*Deep Breath*

*Deep Breath*

*Deep Breath*

'Calm down, Sev! I am not gonna bombarda his old wrinkly ass to heaven! There is still a chance this whole situation is to my benefit.' I admonish myself mentally to stay calm.

"Then please, Grandpa, explain the family magic to me," I ask him through gritted teeth.

"Well, no one has understood our magic properly, and even now people don't know what it does, but I will try to explain it anyway," he says while scratching his beard.

"Please do," I say.

"Well, let's say I toss a coin. The chances are 50/50, but not for us Princes! If you believe you are right, then you are more often right, and if your enemy believes you are right, you are right every time. But if you believe you are wrong, then you are more wrong, and if the enemy believes you are wrong, you are wrong every single time," he tries to describe it to me.

"Wait! So if I have a winning streak, I get exceptionally luckier? But the same applies if I am on a losing streak?" I ask him.

"Yes, that is how our family magic behaves," he confirms.

"Interesting..." I mutter, trying to wrap my head around the implications of such a power.

This power is such a cheap OP cheat! It's both fascinating and intimidating to think about the potential of this magic.

"So, essentially, it's about the power of belief," I mull over the concept out loud.

"Exactly! My Father told me we are the reason for the saying 'Fake it 'till you make it'." my grandfather nods enthusiastically, clearly pleased that I'm grasping the concept, and also because I am not exploding in his face.

"But how does one go about controlling or harness believes?" I inquire, curious about the practical application of such magic.

"It's not about controlling it, per se, but rather about understanding it and embracing it," he explains. "You must have unwavering belief in your convictions, and that belief will influence reality around you, and even yourself to some extent. Like for example my looks are thanks to me feeling great and believing that I am a stud."

I absorb his words, contemplating them, and decide that he is a moron. The idea that my beliefs could shape the outcome of events is amazing, but he's going the wrong way about it, well, he is not thinking big enough.

"And what about the consequences of misbelief?" I probe further.

"Ah, that's where the challenge lies," my grandfather admits with a hint of seriousness. "Misbelief can lead to disastrous outcomes. It's essential to maintain clarity of thought and conviction in yourself and your beliefs to avoid such pitfalls. Sadly, your mother was unable to do that."

He goes on to explain more and more examples about the application of this power to me, such as the limitation that I cannot simply think myself into being a god. It's like my battery is too weak to pull off that stunt. However, I can visualize myself as charming, believable, and influence unsuspecting people to do what I want them to.

'Like this old bastard did to me! He lulled me into a fake sense of security!' I think, annoyed.

"Well, at least you learned two major lessons!" my grandfather says with a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face.

"And which are?" I ask him.

"First, never underestimate magic, and second, never trust a pure-blood not to screw you over!" he says happily.

"By the way, what day is it today?!" I ask when I notice my Grandfather wearing different clothes as when I passed out, or during the ritual.

[Part 02: The day gets worse and worse.]

As soon as I emerge from the fireplace, I'm greeted by the very thing I hate with a passion, crowds of people. Far too many people for my liking are participating in this party. The party is already in full swing by the time I arrive, and I recognize some familiar faces mingling in the crowd.

I spot Olivia Selwyn, Regulus, Sirius, Potter, and even Pettigrew, but there's no sign of Remus Lupin, probably because today is a full moon.

'Poor guy, getting attacked by a wolf inside his mental space, and all he can do is run away or duke it out with magic, which isn't really going to help him much,' I muse to myself, feeling somewhat sorry for Lupin, but not enough to actually help him.

The damn idiot would have screwed over my new life before it even started if it weren't for some godly intervention and help, namely Bailed's help.

As I make my entrance, some people take notice of my appearance. Some are shocked, some even more so, and finally, only two people are able to shake it off—Regulus and Olivia—are not shocked all that much.

I try to spot Narcissa in the crowd, but I can't find her.

"Sev, welcome to the party," Regulus starts talking as soon as he's close enough, and we shake hands.

"Snape, good to see you in good health," Olivia says in her stuck-up way. This girl needs a hard session of fucking to get unwinded, but I'll never lay hands on a bro's wife, or future wife.

"Thanks for the invitation," I say to Regulus with a sparkling smile.

"No problem, Sev. Let me introduce you to some guests," he says, attempting to lead me further into the party but getting stopped by 75% of the Marauders.

"How the hell are you here?" Sirius asks me, his expression a mix of hatred and curiosity.

Seems like our last encounter has done little to curb the damn dog's attitude, except to make him hate me even more with a burning passion.

I mean sure, I am all for passion and I totally understand being passionate about me, as I am eyecandy pure, and my personality is extasy and bliss for others to be around me, but the dude is well, a dude.

*Shudder*

"I invited him, brother!" Regulus interjects, apparently thinking that Sirius is complaining about my presence.

"Wait, that's not it! I meant..." Sirius tries to explain himself.

"No, no, Sirius, you know the deal as well as I do," I say, cutting him off.

"Tell us now, Snivellus! How did you do it?!" Sirius barks at me.

"How did I do what?!" I ask him, genuinely surprised.

"You know what he's talking about!" Potter chimes in.

"I have absolutely no idea what your mentally challenged friend is talking about, Mr. Potter," I reply coolly.

"This isn't over," Sirius says before storming off angrily.

"What was that about?" Olivia asks me, but I can see that Regulus is also curious.

*Sigh*

"I trust you both, as you're probably the closest thing I have to actual friends, but there's magic at play, and I can't talk about it," I say, and I can see Regulus's eyes light up.

"Why not?!" Olivia demands, her anger evident.

"It's an oath," Regulus explains.

I merely shrug my shoulders, I am not allowed to give confrmation, but not denying him is confirmation enough. As I hadn't mentioned the oath or its content—just that magic was at play. The smart kid figured it out on his own.

"Whatever. Let's just enjoy the party! Oh, and Regulus, here's your gift!" I say, pulling a gift from my robes.

My robes cost enough to make many purebloods cry tears of blood out of envy, which is probably why some guests are shocked.

Some are likely shocked because I've been invited, and finally, some probably because I'm not running around some forest as a wolf.

"Well, can you at least tell us about your newfound wealth?" Olivia asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Mhh, sure, but you have to keep it a secret. If you don't, it'll be the last secret I entrust you with," I reply with a smirk, fully aware that she just wants something to gossip about and has no intention of keeping it secret. But now, if she wants more juicy information, she has to keep quiet.

*Grumble*

"Fine, okay," she finally says, annoyed.

"Haha, you're the only one who can get a rise out of her," Regulus says gleefully.

"Shut it, Reg!" she snaps threateningly, which shuts Regulus up but leaves him looking bitter.

'Damn, the girl already has her future husband on a leash,' I think to myself. Women are one of the most dangerous beings on the planet.

I start telling them about how I approached my grandfather, and how we got close over the holidays, but I keep his name a secret, waiting to reveal it at the start of the next school year.

Eventually, the adults learn that I'm at their party, and most certainly, they're not pleased.

I'm somewhat ambushed by Regulus's father and mother, who order a much younger Kreacher to invite me over—or rather, to meet them, or face their wrath.

'Reg, I thought you had informed them?!' I mentally shout, but I move to follow the permanently grim house-elf to a study in the back of the manor.

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