Snape's POV
"Severus, did something happen? Why were you so late?"
Minerva's sharp question made me pause for a moment, considering my response.
"Nothing happened," I said curtly. "And I am not late. The students arrive this evening, and I have already fulfilled all of my responsibilities."
"Yes, but it would be far better to be punctual," she replied crisply.
I gave only a noncommittal "hmm," making it clear I had no interest in continuing the conversation.
Strictly speaking, there were no duties for the professors until the students set foot in Hogwarts beyond reviewing the year's syllabus, arranging the necessary resources, and meeting a reasonable number of Muggle-borns and their guardians to explain matters before term began.
Though this year was… different. Minerva had already informed me that Dumbledore expected my presence the moment I returned.
The reason for my so-called late arrival was far less simple. I was still adjusting to this life—or rather, to the memories of another life bleeding into this one. Old memories in a life I have already lived. New, yet not new. A paradox I do not care to untangle. Let us call them, for now, the remnants of my last life.
Some habits are changing; one does not simply discard twenty years of experience. I have not been reset, after all I still use the word Muggle, though no longer with the same contempt. It is difficult to sneer at them as before, knowing I once was one—and fully aware of their potential.
I know what the future looks like. The internet, the rise of artificial intelligence… Muggles are advancing in ways even wizards would be wise not to ignore. With luck, the Gacha may grant me some manner of "tech" template. If not, I will learn it myself—slowly, methodically. The concept of magitech holds an undeniable appeal. There is no need for haste. Still, I intend to secure a foothold in the Muggle world soon—investments, shares, influence. Power is no less potent for being subtle.
"Chocolate Frog," I muttered, the gargoyle shifting aside as I stepped into Dumbledore's office. The old man was seated at his desk, poring over a stack of articles.
For all his age and affectation of frailty, I would never underestimate him. Especially now—after acquiring Fern's template, my perception of mana had sharpened. I could feel it, the sheer gulf between us. There was no comparison.
I knew what he was capable of. The Fantastic Beasts films only hinted at it—though it was practically criminal they replaced Depp for the third. Still, I smirked at the irony: both friends wearing the faces of second actors. Grindelwald, in this world, bore the features of Mikkelsen, while Dumbledore wore those of Michael.
"Dumbledore, you called for me?" I broke the silence; his patience would far outlast mine.
"Ah, yes, Severus. I was beginning to worry," he said at last, looking up from his papers.
"Well, there is no need for that. I am here, and quite healthy." I shrugged. Once, I would have resented him for his broken promises. Now… I found I could no longer care.
Neither about him nor about Harry nor about Tom. Well — I have to kill the last one, not out of revenge but because he will not allow me to remain outside his future mess.
As for Harry, I was once drowning in guilt, regret, anger, desire and many other feelings; I began to see the boy through the blur of his parents and could not distinguish them. But after the memories returned, I finalised one thing: Harry is not Lily, nor is he James. I cannot, should not, and will not show him affection simply because I longed for his mother. Likewise I will not torment him for his father's behaviour. He is Harry Potter — not James Potter, not Lily Potter.
Dumbledore looked at me, his face composed, but those twinkling eyes made me check my Occlumency shield once more — it was intact.
"Harry is coming today, Severus." Oh, the old guilt trap. It might have worked a week ago, but not now. I said nothing and let him continue, keeping my expression impassive.
"As I have already said, the Dark Lord is not dead, and Harry's life will be in danger, even here at Hogwarts." He looked up again. "Protect the boy's life, Severus."
"As a professor at Hogwarts, I am not to let a student die on my watch." I considered clarifying my point, then decided it unnecessary. If Dumbledore judged me useless and sought to remove me from Hogwarts — which I would not permit — I would lose the one place that allows me to progress faster than most and, more importantly, the richest source of information.
"That is enough," he said with a nod, no doubt assuming my words were little more than an excuse. I let him think so; there was no need to correct him.
"Are you still going to let Quirrell continue?" I asked flatly.
"Do not worry. Simply keep watch, and alert me if you sense something amiss." He waved a hand as though the matter were trivial — though he must know something is wrong with the man, even if he does not yet know what lurks at the back of his head.
Very well. Since you do not care, I will not either.
I left the office after a few more scraps of small talk, most of it circling around my supposed reason for arriving today. It seems everyone has taken an interest in that, though I see no reason why.
Back in my chambers, I locked the door, settled into my chair, and drew out the card I had received. I had told myself I would wait a month before spinning again, but in the end, I could not resist. The temptation is… addictive. Especially when fortune favours me, as it did today.
Omniverse Gate: Mushoku Tensei.
A card that allows travel between worlds — back and forth, without limit. Though the destination is fixed. Jobless Reincarnation.
For once, my luck seems extraordinary. A world hidden far out of reach, ripe for exploration, and brimming with opportunities to increase my strength. Magic as its foundation, fantasy as its law.
Still, the gift carries thorns.
First the gate is limited. A year only. Once that span ends, the card will burn itself out, unless I can secure some sort of extension… or perhaps an upgrade.
Second that world is primitive compared to ours. Different culture, different rules. Adjusting will take caution.
But the greatest concern is power. The balance there is dangerous. In terms of raw destruction, I will not rank high. Their warriors move with terrifying speed — fast enough that a blade may separate my head from my shoulders before a single spell escapes my lips.
And worst of all, the card provides no information. No indication of when I will arrive in that timeline, nor where I will first appear. It is random.
Uncertainty is the first enemy I must face. Still I am going to use it soon.
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