No one knows the full extent of Snape's fierce achievements during the First Wizarding War.
In this era, with the Dark Lord defeated and Snape neatly brought into Dumbledore's fold, those in the know keep tight-lipped about his past.
Think about it: even the high-and-mighty Malfoys had to face the Wizengamot and get torn apart, but no one dares to question Snape. That alone shows just how much clout Dumbledore has.
Still, it's hard to believe that Snape, someone the Dark Lord valued so highly, didn't make a mark in that war. No battles fought? No wizards harmed? That'd be too far-fetched.
Snape's power is undeniable.
And yet, this battle-hardened veteran of the Wizarding War, firing off thirteen Obliviate spells in a fit of passion, didn't land a single one on Lockhart.
The guy didn't even draw his wand!
That made Snape stop cold.
He stared at his wand in disbelief, then at Lockhart, who was peeking out from under a desk with a sheepish grin. Snape's expression shifted.
After their adventure at Eakert Castle, not to mention teaching Harry and Draco and dealing with Mandrakes, Snape thought he'd already given Lockhart enough credit.
But now? He realized he'd still underestimated him.
"Sorry, I overreacted. I shouldn't have attacked you," Snape said, a rare apology. He helped Lockhart out from under the desk, waved his wand, and restored the table—nearly burned to ashes—along with the charred books and manuscripts.
Such precise magical control left Lockhart in awe. He gave a thumbs-up. "Impressive!"
Snape's mouth twitched, unsure if Lockhart was mocking him.
But Lockhart's admiration seemed genuine enough.
That made Snape feel a pang of guilt for assuming the worst of someone who'd shown him kindness.
His expression softened, but when he noticed Lockhart glancing at the papers on the desk, he tensed up again, his toes practically curling in his shoes.
He couldn't help himself—he lunged to gather the manuscripts, flustered and embarrassed.
"Senior, everyone's got their strengths," Lockhart said earnestly. "Not knowing how to write well isn't a big deal."
Honestly, Snape's writing was as dry as the man himself—stiff, flat, and tough to slog through.
"We should all make use of whatever resources we've got," Lockhart continued.
Like when he went to Eakert Castle, he didn't hesitate to bring along his two hard-trained apprentices.
Why not?
As the saying goes, a wise person makes use of what's available.
Going it alone is exhausting.
Seeing his advice wasn't quite landing, Lockhart thought for a moment, then pulled Potions Moste Potente from his pocket and set it on the desk. He flipped to the page for "Mischievous Mind Muck." "Actually, I came here to ask for your help."
He sighed. "My knowledge of Potions is so shallow, I can't even make sense of this recipe."
It was a bit of a blow to his ego.
His original self had gone through seven years at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw no less, known for its brains. And yet, he couldn't understand this?
Meanwhile, Hermione, a second-year, had brewed Polyjuice Potion from this very book.
Was the gap between people really that huge?
Snape glanced at the page, a slight smirk curling his lips. "It's laced with some professional Runes terminology to avoid ambiguity in key steps. The preparation of complex ingredients is broken down into the brewing process. It's harder to understand, sure, but following it exactly makes it foolproof. Safest way to go."
Lockhart blinked, stunned that Snape could explain it after a single glance. That good?
"Have you brewed this before?" he asked.
Snape shook his head. "Stuffing someone else's soul fragments into your head? That's a sure way to lose yourself."
His face grew serious as he looked at Lockhart. "Magic is an expression of your own will. Lose yourself, and you lose your magic. It's incredibly dangerous. I strongly advise against trying this potion."
Wow.
Well said.
Lockhart nodded inwardly but could only shake his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, but I have something I have to do. It's that important."
"More important than magic?" Snape's expression turned distant, almost dazed.
"Yes!" Lockhart said firmly.
But his conviction didn't seem to sway Snape. Or rather…
Lockhart stared, puzzled, unable to believe Snape was zoning out in the middle of their chat.
What was with that sadness in his eyes?
Maybe because they'd gotten closer, Lockhart felt a growing respect for the reliable Snape and didn't immediately think of Lily.
"I'll help you," Snape said, snapping back to normal. He pulled up a chair, sat down, and began studying the potion recipe intently.
He was so focused, scribbling calculations on a blank sheet of parchment, completely absorbed.
Lockhart waited for a while, but with no sign of Snape stopping, he turned his attention back to the pile of manuscripts.
"Senior, how about I take a look at your drafts?" he offered.
Snape visibly tensed, his face stiffening for a long moment. Finally, he let out a heavy breath, turned, and said with unusual force, "Thank you!"
"No problem!" Lockhart grinned brightly. "We help each other out, right?"
He gently pulled up another chair to the desk, sorting the pages by the numbers Snape had marked in the headers. He still couldn't fathom how Snape had restored papers that were completely burned to ashes, looking as good as new.
Incredible.
Such enviable spellwork.
Sighing in admiration, Lockhart started reading from the beginning.
He had to admit, Snape's writing took him back to his old university lab days—dense, dry notes that made his eyes glaze over.
Good grief.
Judging the three stages of color diffusion in potion reactions—such a fascinating, almost romantic process—how did Snape make it sound as dull as three strangers making awkward small talk?
On the first page alone, Lockhart spotted several points that should've wowed readers. If he wrote it his way, he was sure even he'd fall in love with Potions.
He turned to discuss it with Snape but saw him deep in thought, frowning, and decided not to interrupt.
Instead, he grabbed some blank parchment and started rewriting Snape's draft in his own style.
And, well, what do you know?
Snape's understanding of Potions was on another level. After rewriting a dozen pages, Lockhart suddenly realized—he was actually starting to get the basics of potion-making.
In Severus's Potions Lessons, Snape didn't follow the usual textbook approach of listing simple potions one by one. Instead, he took a high-level view, breaking down common potion recipes to explain core Potions concepts.
Lockhart dug into his original self's memories of Hogwarts Potions classes, cross-referencing them with Snape's notes, and found himself understanding recipes he'd never grasped before.
Oh, so that's how it works.
These "aha" moments came not once, but multiple times.
Looking down at Snape's manuscript, he realized just how valuable it was.
And this was just from polishing five of Snape's pages into a dozen of his own. If he kept going…
Wait!
A dozen pages?
Lockhart's expression changed. He stood up, alarmed, and glanced out the window, realizing it had gotten dark without him noticing.
"Crap, I almost lost track of time!"
He hurriedly stuffed the manuscripts into his robes. "Senior, I'll take your drafts with me. I just remembered—a bunch of students are waiting in my office for me to go over their test papers!"
Snape didn't look up, just nodded. "Take them. I'm still working on refining this recipe."
"Okay, great… wait, refining?" Lockhart froze mid-step at the office door.
"Yes." Snape looked up, tapping the book. "This is from over a century ago. You didn't think we'd still follow its outdated methods step-by-step, did you?"
"I've got plenty of ways to reduce the side effects and risks in this recipe. Are you sure you want to stick with this old version?"
"And some of the ingredients are needlessly expensive and hard to find. Are you really okay spending months tracking them down?"
"Especially the unicorn toe bone—good luck finding that on the market. Are you planning to get it through some shady black-market deal, or would you rather spend a few Galleons on perfectly good substitutes that save time and effort?"
"Wow!" Lockhart exclaimed, at a loss for words.
You're amazing, my senior!
Incredible!
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