HP: The Big Bad Wolf

It was the beginning of January, and the streets of Hogsmeade were freezing. Yet, a lone figure made his way through them, his robes clean but showing the signs of wear and tear—small rips and frayed edges, carefully mended over time. Despite this, he moved with a calm confidence, as though at peace with himself and the world around him.

His face was marked by a few visible scars, hinting at others hidden beneath his clothes, adding to his roguish charm.

"Today is my birthday," he murmured quietly, deciding to treat himself to a drink in celebration.

As he approached the Hog's Head Inn, he observed people hurrying inside while a few drunken patrons staggered out. The bar was perhaps the shabbiest in the village, but it had its share of loyal customers—people who came for shady deals or simply because it was the only place where they could let loose without fear of gossip or judgment.

Severus made his way to the bar and took a seat at the far end.

"What'll it be?" the barkeeper asked, noting the weariness in the man's expression.

"The same as last time," Severus replied, tossing a silver coin onto the counter. The barkeeper caught it and studied it for a moment before a grin spread across his face.

"Has it really been a year already?" he asked with a note of surprise.

"Such is the nature of time, my good man," Severus replied with a smirk, dropping the spell that had concealed his appearance.

"This one's on the house," the now more lively Dumbledore said, filling a glass for his favorite customer.

"Thanks," Severus responded simply.

"So, are you here to stay, or is this just your annual stop before you disappear on another of your little adventures?" Aberforth asked with a fond smile. Over the years, he had come to regard the young man as the closest thing he had to a son.

A few years ago, Aberforth had first noticed Severus in his bar, meeting with a shady group in search of information about some obscure artifact. The meeting quickly turned sour, and Aberforth had intervened—partly to protect his establishment. Afterward, the young man became a regular visitor, and though their encounters often ended in fights or other trouble, a bond slowly formed between them.

As they got to know each other, Severus offered Aberforth something no one else could—a chance to reconnect with his long-lost sister, with no strings attached. From that moment on, Aberforth regarded the young man as family.

"I'm here to stay," Severus said with a smirk, taking a slow sip of his drink.

"So, are you going to work there?" Aberforth eventually asked after what was likely the tenth drink, noticing the young man standing up to leave.

"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Severus replied before stepping out of the bar.

As he approached the grand gates of Hogwarts, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. The castle loomed ahead, just as majestic as he remembered, though now tinged with the faint wear of time. He crossed the threshold, the familiar hum of magic in the air greeting him like an old friend. The halls were quieter than they had been during his time as a student, the echoes of laughter and hurried footsteps replaced by a more solemn stillness.

He walked slowly, his fingers brushing against the cold stone walls, recalling the days when he was just another student, eager and full of ambition. How much had changed since then. The memories felt like a lifetime ago, and yet, being back here, it all felt strangely familiar, as though no time had passed at all.

Lost in thought, he nearly missed the sound of approaching footsteps. A rugged-looking professor, with wild hair and a hint of mischief in his eyes, appeared from around the corner.

"And who might you be?" the professor asked, eyes narrowing as they took in the man's appearance. "And what business do you have here?"

The man paused, offering a small, knowing smile. "I'm here to meet with Dumbledore," he replied, his voice steady. "I'll be joining the staff after the winter holidays."

The professor's eyes flicked up and down, clearly skeptical. The man's robes, once stylish, were now worn by time, though still clean. His beard was unshaven, stubble covering his chin, and his skin was sunburned from long days spent under the open sky. Yet it was his eyes that stood out the most—captivating, with a depth that suggested he was acutely aware of everything, of every word spoken and unspoken.

"Is that so?" the professor responded, still dubious. "I'm Professor Silvanus Kettleburn, Care of Magical Creatures. I joined the staff three years ago, so I don't believe we've met."

The man hesitated for a moment, then said, "Severus Prince, and I know we have not had the chance to meet one anotehr yet."

Professor Kettleburn's reaction was immediate. His eyes widened, and he took an involuntary step back, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Severus Prince... The lost Prince?"

Severus nodded slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. "The same."

Whispers had circulated for years about Severus Prince, the figure once rumored to be a rising Dark Lord, who had mysteriously disappeared. Some said he was dead, others believed he had gone into hiding, and some even saying he was building an army of vampires adn criminals to take over the world. But here he was, standing in the halls of Hogwarts.

Kettleburn quickly composed himself, though the shock still lingered in his eyes. Without another word, he turned and began leading Severus through the winding corridors of the castle. They walked in silence, the weight of the revelation hanging between them.

Eventually, they reached the statue of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Professor Kettleburn cleared his throat. "A visitor here to see the Headmaster," he informed the statue.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a low rumble, the statue shifted, revealing the spiral staircase leading up to Dumbledore's office. "You may enter," the statue intoned.

Kettleburn gestured for Severus to proceed. "After you, Mr. Prince."

Severus nodded. "Thank you for guiding me, Professor Kettleburn," he said, leaving the professor behind as he began his ascent.

When Severus entered the office, he found Albus Dumbledore standing by the window, looking out over the grounds. As the door closed behind him, Dumbledore turned, surprise flickering across his face before a warm smile replaced it.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with a hint of surprise, "I must say, I wasn't expecting you to visit Hogwarts so suddenly, and after all these years of no contact. But I'm happy to see you nonetheless."

Severus inclined his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "It seemed as good a time as any," he replied, his tone calm and measured.

Dumbledore moved closer, his expression shifting to one of concern. "How have you been, Severus? What exactly have you been experiencing during all this time?"

Severus glanced away for a moment, as if weighing his words. "I've been traveling," he answered vaguely. "Learning all I could about magic."

Dumbledore studied him carefully, sensing there was far more to the story than Severus was revealing. But he didn't press further. "And your intended purpose here at Hogwarts?" he asked instead.

A smirk curled at the corners of Severus's mouth. "I hope you have not forgotten about the oath, Albus."

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly in realization, and trepidation. Years ago, after a certain event, Dumbledore wished never happened, he wa forced to swear an oath to employ Severus as a teacher at Hogwarts when the time came. It had been so long, and with Severus missing for years, the promise had nearly slipped from his memory.

Collecting himself, Dumbledore nodded, his expression turning serious. "No, Severus, I haven't forgotten. But I must ask, what position do you aspire to take over?"

"I believe Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts would be a good choice," Severus replied calmly.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly. "Both those classes already have professors. But… Slughorn has been talking about wanting to retire for quite some time. We just haven't found a suitable replacement."

Severus's smile deepened as he reached into his slightly worn-looking backpack and pulled out a thick folder. He handed it to Dumbledore, who looked at him with a questioning gaze but opened it nonetheless.

As Dumbledore flipped through the pages, his eyes began to gleam with growing astonishment. The folder was filled with certifications from various countries, each attesting to Severus's mastery in every single field of magic. He had traveled the world, achieving the highest accolades in every magical discipline, surpassing even the most learned wizards.

"You… you've reached the pinnacle in all these fields," Dumbledore murmured, awe coloring his voice. "This is most shocking, Severus."

Severus simply smiled, watching as Dumbledore placed the folder down, still absorbing the enormity of what he had just read.

Severus and Dumbledore continued their conversation, reminiscing about old acquaintances and the few people with whom Dumbledore still maintained contact. They spoke of old colleagues, friends, and even some students who had gone on to make names for themselves. Dumbledore, ever the watchful headmaster, kept a hand in the affairs of many, always keeping his ear to the ground for news and events that might impact Hogwarts.

"I must admit," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye, "I still correspond with Slughorn despite the holidays. He's been hinting more strongly at retirement lately, though he's never been one to let go easily. I think I can convince him to extend his holidays indefinitely."

Severus nodded, understanding. Slughorn was a man who relished connections and influence, but even the most dedicated found it hard to resist the call of retirement after so many years. 

"Given your credentials," Dumbledore continued, "I think it would be most fitting for you to take over for Slughorn immediately after the winter holidays. The students could greatly benefit from your expertise."

Severus's eyes glinted with satisfaction. "I would be happy to take on the position, Headmaster."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I'll make the necessary arrangements."

With their agreement settled, Severus took his leave, the castle doors closing quietly behind him as he exited. Once outside, he took a moment to look back at the imposing structure of Hogwarts, its towers reaching high into the sky. A faint smile crossed his lips before he disapparated with a soft *pop*.

He reappeared in front of a grand manor, its towering gates flanked by a row of house-elves who immediately apparated on both sides of the gate, bowing low in unison. Severus recognized them instantly—these were the same elves he had acquired when he first took ownership of the manor. The elves had been loyal but extremely annoying servants, and he suspected that over the years, his organization had acquired even more elves through various means, whether by purchase or breeding. But he did not worry about that shit.

As Severus walked through the gates, they swung open silently to admit him, then closed behind him with a heavy clang that echoed through the grounds. The sound brought back a memory of his very first day at the manor—a day that felt like a lifetime ago. He smiled at the thought, a brief moment of nostalgia washing over him.

"Slavon," Severus called, and a house-elf with large, attentive eyes appeared at his side in an instant.

"Yes, Master?" Slavon responded with a deep bow.

"Go to Diagon Alley and purchase a dozen or so new sets of robes for me," Severus ordered. "Make sure they are of high quality."

"At once, Master," Slavon replied, and with a snap of his fingers, he vanished to carry out the task.

Severus continued through the manor, his footsteps echoing off the polished marble floors as he made his way to the Portrait Room. This room, lined with the painted visages of his ancestors, had always been a place of quiet contemplation for him. He pushed open the heavy wooden doors and entered the dimly lit room, the soft glow of enchanted lamps casting shadows on the walls.

As he stood before the portraits of his grandparents, Severus felt a wave of emotion rise within him. These were the faces of the people who had shaped his early life, who had left an indelible mark on the man he had become. And yet, no matter how lost or desolate he had felt over the years, he had never called upon them. The power to summon echoes of the dead was at his fingertips, but he knew all too well that these echoes were not truly them—merely shades, remnants of their former selves. The true souls of his grandparents had long since moved on, likely embarking on their next great adventure in the beyond, just as he did once upon a time.

"Why disturb their peace?" Severus murmured to himself. "Why taint the memories I hold so dear with mere reflections?"

He knew that death was not the end, and he respected that. The people he remembered so fondly deserved to remain as they were in his mind—whole, vibrant, and untouched by the passage of time, and fake memories. With a final glance at the portraits, he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Severus returned to the main hall, the house-elves already bustling about with their tasks. He looked around the manor, realizing that despite all the power and knowledge he had amassed, this place—the legacy of his family—was still the only place he could truly call home.

A few days later, Severus found himself wearing a pristine new set of robes as he made his way through the bustling streets, heading toward a small restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of Diagon Alley. The robes were of the finest quality, tailored to perfection, and they felt almost foreign after so many years of his well-worn attire. As he approached the restaurant, a small, unbidden smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

This wasn't his first time returning to Britain. Over the years, he had come back once or twice annually, though never for long, and never with the intention to stay, and so he had never bothered informing anyone of his presence. He preferred to keep his comings and goings quiet, shrouded in the same secrecy that had become second nature to him.

But two years ago, during one of those brief returns, Severus had faced an somewhat odd ordeal that had nearly ended his life. He had been deep in the ruins of some forgotten Hindu god, seeking out ancient magic, when he triggered an aphrodisiac curse. It had been ugly business—an ancient, twisted piece of magic that left him on the brink of death. Not even the tears of that annoying shite Orpheus could save him then. The curse demanded that he fucks a virgin in love with him, or he would die. But how the fuck can you ever be sure someone is in love with you?!

With little hope, he had returned to Britain, resigned to meeting his end close to home. But fate had its own plans. As if by some cosmic joke, he encountered a witch—Amelia Bones—who, unbeknownst to him, was not only a virgin but also secretly in love with him since their very first meeting. Their encounter had saved his life, though he had nearly lost it again when she found him later and almost beat him to death for his audacity of leaving without saying goodbye.

Now, two years later, Severus was officially dating Amelia, and as he approached the restaurant, he saw her already seated, a glass of wine in hand. The sight of her brought warmth to his heart, something he had only ever felt when he was with Eris, but Eris got bored watching him grave robbing, and told him she'd only come around when he des something interesting again.

'Moody bitch!' he cursed internally, but still got zapped by some magic coming from god knows where.

"Hey there," he greeted as he walked up to her table.

Amelia's face lit up with excitement. "Severus!" she exclaimed, standing up and throwing herself into his arms for a warm hug.

Severus returned the embrace, a rare softness in his eyes. This restaurant had become their place, it is some kind of insider joke, of sorts. It was the first restaurant he had taken her to, and though it was neither expensive nor particularly high-class, she had fallen in love with it for reasons he still didn't fully understand. In a gesture that was as much practical as it was romantic, Severus had reserved this table exclusively for them for the next decade, ensuring it would always be theirs every Friday evening. And Amelia would always be here each and every friday enjoying her moment of quite and peace hoping Severus would be joining her, which he more often than not did.

As they sat down, Severus looked at her, marveling at how this woman, who had once been nothing more than a distant acquaintance, had become someone so significant in his life. It was strange, he mused, how understanding the complexities of magic was often easier than understanding a woman's heart.

But for once, Severus was content to leave that mystery unsolved.