Author's Note (Please Read Before You Start!):
Hey, everyone—thanks for checking out At Hogwarts, I Just Became the Half-Blood Prince.
This is a new version of Chapter 1. The original story began with a transmigrated soul waking up in young Severus Snape's body, right after the Mudblood incident. But something didn't sit right with me. The idea was fun—but it wasn't true to the world I wanted to build.
So I rewrote it. From the ground up.
This time, it's not a new soul behind Snape's eyes. It's him. The real Severus. The boy who just lost everything—his best friend, his pride, his future—and makes a choice. Not to crumble, but to adapt. And quietly, dangerously… evolve.
The original version is still up, so feel free to compare.
Which one pulls you in more—the transmigrator with a plan, or the broken boy who becomes the prince by his own will?
Tell me in the comments—I genuinely want to know.
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Chapter 1 – The Prince Reborn
"You can't change the past... but you can choose who you become."
The corridor was silent, except for the soft thud of the portrait door closing behind her.
Severus stood still. Lily's voice echoed in his head like a curse.
"Don't forget, Severus—you called me Mudblood in front of everyone. You promised me you'd never say that word. You said you were different."
She had looked at him like he was a stranger. Someone she didn't trust anymore.
Then she walked away.
He hadn't followed her. What could he even say?
Lily.
Her green eyes hadn't been angry. Not really. Just… disappointed. And that was worse.
He hadn't meant it. Not to her. Never to her.
But he'd said it.
The stone floor felt like ice under his shoes. The walls seemed too quiet now, as if the castle itself had turned its back on him.
He dropped to his knees.
His fingers pressed into the stone. His chest was tight, and he could barely breathe.
What had he done?
She had stood up for him. Again. Even after Potter had humiliated him in front of half the school. She had tried to protect him.
And that was how he repaid her.
A slur. A word that wasn't just cruel—but unforgivable.
You're just like the others in Slytherin.
The words stung more than any hex.
He stayed there a while, on the cold floor, letting the silence sink in. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. Just… thought.
He stood slowly. His legs were shaky, but his head was clearer than it had been in a long time.
This wasn't new. Being alone.
But this time, he wasn't just lonely. He was ashamed. And more than that—he was tired.
Tired of being looked down on. Tired of chasing power in the shadows. Tired of hiding behind anger.
He wasn't going to become what they expected.
He was going to become something better.
Not for Lily. Not only for her.
But for himself.
He moved through the corridors like a ghost, passing the flickering torches and moving staircases. No one noticed him. No one stopped him.
Down through the castle, past the portraits, past the echoing steps, toward the cold stone heart of the dungeons.
At the familiar blank wall, he whispered, "Always pure."
The entrance slid open.
The Slytherin common room welcomed him with its usual greenish light. Lamps glowed softly. The water from the lake shimmered through the windows. The fire in the hearth burned low.
A few students sat nearby. No one looked up.
He crossed the room and slipped into the boys' bathroom.
The soft buzzing of lamps. The gentle tap of water against the windows.
He stood before the mirror.
The boy looking back at him was pale, tired, and angry.
His hair hung over his face, oily and uneven. His robes were wrinkled. His eyes looked older than they should.
He looked like a shadow.
No. He looked like someone the world had already given up on.
He raised his wand and trimmed his hair short—clean, neat. Like something a person might choose if they were ready to be seen.
Strands of black hair fell to the floor.
He stared again.
Still him. Still Severus Snape.
But something had shifted.
He stepped back into the common room. The fire flickered low. Patrick Abbott sat in the corner, reading as always, quiet and alone.
Severus walked past him, to the far side of the room, and reached behind a stone ledge.
His fingers found the small, worn book: Hexcraft: Shadows of Power.
He had hidden it here months ago.
Inside were curses. Notes scribbled in anger. Spells no one should use.
Back then, the book made him feel strong. In control.
Now it made him feel… hollow.
He carried it to the fireplace and stood in front of the flames.
He hesitated for only a second.
Then he tossed it in.
The book cracked and twisted in the fire. Green flames flared high, like it didn't want to die quietly.
But it burned.
When it was gone, Severus stood a little taller.
No one had seen. No one cheered.
But he knew.
He wasn't going to be the joke. He wasn't going to be the monster.
He was going to be something else.
He whispered to the fire, voice low but steady:
"They'll remember me. Not for what I was… but for what I become."
The castle was quiet.
The lake whispered beyond the windows.
And in the shadows of the common room, the first ember of something new began to burn.