"You've made a lot of new friends, Severus," Lily murmured softly on their way to the Head Boy's compartment, her voice remarkably calm. "I'm happy for you."
"Yeah, yeah, new friends," Snape tugged uncomfortably at his collar, feeling something crawling under his robes. "Much better than the old ones. Oh, except you, of course."
A flicker of an unreadable emotion crossed Lily's eyes, but it quickly settled back into serenity.
She pushed open the door to the Head Boy's compartment. It was empty, save for two shafts of sunlight cutting through the post-rain clouds, casting a few streaks of light on two armchairs side by side.
"What instructions should we give the prefects?" Snape eagerly changed the subject, secretly scratching his itching back.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Lily asked, her brow slightly furrowed as she noticed his strange actions.
"Probably an allergy," Snape mumbled, avoiding her gaze. "You know, the weather."
"I'll do most of the talking later," Lily said, settling into one of the armchairs and pulling a notebook from her bag. "It's nothing complicated, really. Just routine stuff: patrolling the carriages, stopping mischief, ensuring the safety of the first-years—"
"Alright," Snape sighed in relief. "I'm counting on you, Lily."
In both his memories, he'd never held such a high "office." If it weren't for the absolute necessity of preventing James from becoming Head Boy, he wouldn't have even bothered to contend for the position with Professor Dumbledore.
The train let out a long whistle and slowly began to move. The scenery outside the window started to recede, and the parents waving from the platform gradually shrank into tiny figures.
Prefects from various houses began to arrive. Most of them wore an expression of disbelief when they saw the badge on Snape's chest.
Although Snape had won the dueling championship last term, he hadn't made any other notable contributions known to the public. Thus, Dumbledore's appointment of him as Head Boy was clearly unexpected.
Lupin didn't show any surprise, but his eyes kept darting towards Snape, and a hint of worry seemed to cloud his brow.
Snape was all too familiar with that look—Lupin always wore that worried, helpless expression before the Marauders cooked up some mischief.
Perhaps he was worrying about his friends, Snape thought. But Lupin's worries weren't unfounded. As the saying goes, "use it or lose it." If he didn't make their last year a bit uncomfortable, it would be a wasted opportunity.
As Lily gave instructions and assigned tasks to the prefects, Snape admired her efficient demeanor while observing the twenty-three prefects before him.
His gaze suddenly met a pair of deep brown eyes.
It was a Slytherin prefect, an elegant, beautiful girl with long, black hair tied back with a silver-green ribbon.
He noticed that she had been staring at him, her eyes occasionally resting on his watch.
It was a coming-of-age gift from Eileen. Later, Eileen told him that it was a high-end handmade magical wristwatch she had bought in Switzerland, worth over a thousand Galleons.
Snape searched his mind for a long time before recalling the last name of this dark-skinned Slytherin student—Zabini. Oh, wasn't this the "Madam Zabini" who would marry seven times, each husband dying mysteriously and leaving her a large inheritance?
But why was her last name Zabini and not something else? Could it be that she had so many husbands that changing her last name each time was too troublesome, so she just stuck with her original one?
Snape quickly sat up straight. What did that look in her eyes mean? He had absolutely no interest in her. Besides, even if he did, who would dare to provoke her?
Lily finally finished assigning the prefects' duties.
"All right," she closed her notebook. "You can begin your work."
The prefects took their leave, filing out one by one.
Zabini, however, deliberately lagged a few steps behind, lingering at the doorway.
"Head Boy Snape," her voice was low and magnetic, "I'm new to being a prefect this year and I'm not quite sure about the specific duties. Could you demonstrate them for me?"
Her voice was rather pleasant, Snape thought.
However, if she was new to being a prefect, that meant she was only in her fifth year. Furthermore, she would give birth to Blaise Zabini when she was eighteen. Quite the go-getter, she was.
At that thought, a terrifying image suddenly flashed in his mind—himself lying in a hospital bed, with Zabini holding a small bowl of suspicious liquid, saying, "Severus, come on, take your medicine."
"I'm busy!" Snape forcefully banished the jumbled thoughts from his mind, but he couldn't help but slip into a victim's mindset, raising his voice and snapping, "Go do it yourself!"
Zabini was startled by Snape's reaction, and a flicker of panic and fear crossed her beautiful eyes as she retreated awkwardly out of the compartment.
"Why were you so harsh with her?" Lily's green eyes were filled with confusion.
"Because I want to live a long life," Snape chuckled. "May we live long!"
Lily gave him a strange look but only sighed. "Come on, we should also patrol in two different directions."
Patrolling the carriages proved to be somewhat amusing.
Snape walked with his hands behind his back, like a black bat surveying its territory.
Watching the younger students look at him with awe, even lowering their voices as he passed by. This feeling of being feared—it wasn't bad at all.
"That's the Dueling Champion," a third-year Hufflepuff whispered to a first-year, his voice barely audible. "At Hogwarts, you'd rather offend the Headmaster than mess with him."
"Why?" a round-faced little boy asked, holding a Chocolate Frog card, puzzled. "Is he more powerful than Dumbledore? Why does it say here that Dumbledore is widely considered the most powerful wizard of his age?"
He held up the card, on which Dumbledore was winking at them.
"Shh—keep your voice down!" The fourth-year student nervously glanced in Snape's direction. "Even if you pulled out the Headmaster's beard, he'd at most expel you. But if you annoy this person," he made a throat-slitting gesture, "he could make you drop out of school yourself—"
Snape walked past the two, then deliberately turned and came back to them.
The third-year student immediately fell silent, and the first-year was so scared he dropped his card on the floor. The Dumbledore on the card was knocked against the border, getting up and glaring angrily.
"Grow well at Hogwarts, little one," Snape said unhurriedly, bending down to pick up the card and handing it to the first-year, patting his shoulder. "Treasure my days at school; you only have one precious year to learn from me."
With that, he continued his patrol down the train corridor, his mood inexplicably cheerful.
In an open compartment, Snape heard the voice of an old acquaintance.
He held his wand in his hand, paused at the doorway, and let out a cold sneer towards the inside.
"What do you want, Snivellus?" Before he could speak, James angrily demanded, his fingers already reaching for his wand.
"Mind your manners, Potter," Snape drawled, deliberately adjusting the shiny badge on his chest. "Otherwise, I'll give you detention."
"You see, unlike you, I'm the Head Boy now," he said, enjoying the annoyed expression that flickered across James's face. "That means, unlike you, I have the power to punish others."