(Transmigration: I Woke Up Suddenly as Severus Snape)
By Duke Imperio & FINA
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Eric Dillan had always been resourceful. As a teenager in the Muggle world, he'd built PCs from salvaged parts and edited videos on machines that should've overheated into slag. Resourcefulness was survival. And now, in the echoing chambers of 1970s Hogwarts—where spells hummed in the stone and danger stalked the corridors in the form of students and ghosts alike—it was everything.
It had been nearly a week since he woke up in Severus Snape's body.
Seven days of dodging suspicion, channeling the gloom and silence Snape was known for, and pretending not to flinch every time James Potter narrowed his eyes.
But behind Snape's closed-lipped sneers and brooding expressions, Eric was sprinting toward something bold: a ritual that would change everything.
Handsome. Charismatic. Intellectually superior.
Not just a better Snape—but a transcendent one.
And it began, as most rebellions did, with a book.
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The Notes of Self
Eric sat hunched at his desk in the dormitory, a silencing charm cast around his bed. His enchanted notebook—modified from Snape's original journal—glowed faintly under candlelight.
He called it The Codex. A hybrid log of magic and Muggle logic, filled with thoughts like:
> "Spells are code. Runes are syntax. Intention is input."
He wrote in structured lines, embedding enchantments into the ink that would only activate if read by him. A spell of obfuscation made the writing appear as gibberish to anyone else. Pure, elegant encryption.
His latest diagram showed a ritual circle. In each quadrant, three symbols intersected:
Blood sigils for Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor.
A mirror glyph.
And in the center, a fusion rune: an innovation he designed himself.
> "This is no longer just a body upgrade. This is a soul upgrade."
He placed his quill down and glanced at the glass jar on his nightstand.
Inside, a small swab of blood shimmered under preservation magic—his first acquisition.
Ravenclaw: complete.
Two to go.
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Acquisition 1 – The Ravenclaw Blood
It had happened three days prior in Potions class.
Professor Slughorn, a kindly if rotund man, was instructing the fifth-years on brewing a variant of the Wit-Sharpening Potion. Eric had partnered with a Ravenclaw girl named Helena Whitby. She was precise, intelligent, and had a habit of twirling her wand between her fingers when thinking.
Perfect.
"I've never worked with you before," she'd said, stirring the cauldron with care. "Snape usually works alone."
Eric had shrugged. "Figured I'd try something new."
He subtly enchanted his stirring rod with a micro-vibration charm. When Helena dipped her hand into the supply box, it gave her a tiny nick from a sharp glass shard Eric had positioned earlier.
She winced. "Ouch."
"Here," he said, offering a cloth. As she pressed it to her finger, he whispered a concealed spell and captured a droplet onto a rune-inscribed strip hidden in his sleeve.
Ravenclaw, done.
The guilt had flickered through him afterward. Helena had thanked him. She had no idea.
But Eric reminded himself: he wasn't harming anyone. This ritual didn't require suffering—just essence. A token of house blood. He could live with that.
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Acquisition 2 – The Hufflepuff Candidate
Hufflepuffs were kind. And kindness was easy to exploit.
Eric scouted during Herbology, wandering between raised beds of puffapods and shrivelfigs. He spotted her: Julia Bones, cousin of Amelia Bones, soft-spoken and diligent.
"Careful with the fanged geranium," he warned her. "You're holding it wrong."
Julia blinked, surprised he'd spoken.
"I didn't think you talked to anyone but Mulciber."
Eric smiled faintly. "Maybe I'm evolving."
They worked together for ten minutes. He cast a modified Severing Charm on a root, making it twitch at the wrong angle. The geranium leapt, brushing Julia's arm.
She yelped and pulled back. A scratch bloomed along her forearm.
Eric whispered the same preservation spell into his glove as he "cleaned" the leaves. A few drops—stored in a vial. Easy.
She thanked him. He lied and said it was nothing.
Hufflepuff, done.
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The Slytherin Paradox
He hadn't yet collected Gryffindor blood. That would be trickier—more guarded, more dangerous. But Slytherin was the real problem.
The ritual called for three houses, but he wondered if it was symbolic—if Snape's own blood counted for Slytherin.
He wrote in The Codex:
> Hypothesis: I am the vessel of Slytherin's essence. My blood = sufficient. Control group: ritual stability check during mock trial.
A trial circle had already been sketched in the abandoned potions classroom he'd claimed for himself in the dungeons. It was quiet, sealed with a locking charm keyed only to his wand.
He was nearly ready.
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Rumors and Whispers
Strange things happen when a reputation changes.
Eric's quiet confidence, new posture, and sharper gaze had started to ripple through the school. Snape had always been the pale, greasy kid in the corner. Now, he answered questions in class with startling clarity. He held eye contact longer. He even gave subtle, biting retorts to James Potter in public—without flinching.
"Snape's gone mad," someone whispered in the corridor.
"Or... maybe he's not so bad?" a younger Slytherin girl said during lunch.
He received a folded note in his History of Magic textbook.
> You spoke well in Charms. I'd like to discuss wand theory with you—Mara Hobbs, 5th-year Ravenclaw.
Eric was tempted to respond. But he had no time for detours. Not yet.
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Duel in the Dust
The third blood was supposed to come from Gryffindor. Eric had hoped for a peaceful route—maybe a scuffle in Quidditch practice. But fate had other plans.
He was cornered near the trophy room after dinner. Alone. Wrong corridor.
James Potter and Sirius Black.
"Well, well," James said, wand already in hand. "The greasy bat has been flapping his mouth lately."
Sirius laughed. "I liked him better when he was silent and sulking."
Eric slowly raised his wand.
"I don't want a fight," he said. "But I won't lose one either."
James sneered. "That's new. What happened, Snivelly? Take a potion for courage?"
Eric smiled thinly. "No. Just finally realized you're not worth fearing."
They struck.
It wasn't a duel. It was chaos.
Stunners. Trip jinxes. A rogue wand-light exploded a plaque off the wall.
Eric ducked, spun, and cast Deflectus—a mirror-shield charm he remembered from Snape's mental fragments. It caught James' Disarming Charm and reflected it straight into Sirius, who went flying.
Eric launched a Slippery-Step jinx, causing James to slide and crash into a suit of armor.
Blood. Just a scrape—along James' jaw.
Eric flicked a spell as he ran and caught the drop on a conjured cloth.
Gryffindor: done.
He vanished down a side corridor before reinforcements came.
Behind him, Sirius yelled, "This isn't over, Snape!"
Eric muttered, "No... it's only just begun."
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To Be Continued... (Part 2 Coming Next)
Shall I continue with Part 2 now, Duke Imperio? It will include the Room of Requirement, Eric's ritual space setup, magical theory writing, and the deeper merging of Eric's mind with Snape's magic.