Transmigration: Into the Life of Severus Snape Chapter 7 7: The Ghost of Hogwarts

Severus Snape had disappeared.

Not physically—he still attended every class, still moved through the castle halls, still existed within Hogwarts' walls.

But socially, he had beco a phantom.

He spoke only when necessary, engaged with no one, and left no openings for anyone to interfere with his life.

His focus was singular. Study. Prepare. Master. Escape.

For weeks, Severus devoted himself to absolute academic excellence.

He poured over advanced potion theories, experinting during late-night study sessions in the Slytherin common room.

He perfected his Charms work, pushing his spell control to higher levels under the guise of harmless exercises.

He practiced dueling sequences in secret, using the abandoned classrooms Flitwick had shown him.

He morized entire passages from healing textbooks, revisiting everything he had learned from Madam Pomfrey.

He revised Runes and languages, reading through old magical texts, refining his skill with Latin, French, and Irish.

Nothing else mattered.

Even within Slytherin, he was a shadow.

Lucius Malfoy had noticed. Lily Evans had noticed. The Marauders had noticed.

And they were all watching.

Lucius Malfoy's POV

Lucius Malfoy prided himself on his ability to control situations.

Severus Snape had always been a useful asset—sharp-minded, resourceful, and easy to guide.

But now?

Now, he was different.

He was no longer the boy who followed in their footsteps, clinging to the protection of Slytherin's elite.

He was silent. Focused. Distant.

Not out of resentnt or fear—but sothing else.

Sothing far more dangerous.

Lucius had watched Severus slip away from the Slytherin circle, retreating into an isolated world of ruthless self-improvent.

Whatever he was planning, it was ticulous.

And Lucius Malfoy did not like being left in the dark.

"You're up to sothing, Severus. I wonder what it is."

Lily Evans' POV

Lily didn't know what to think anymore.

She had spent months expecting Severus to apologize.

To make so kind of effort to fix their broken friendship.

But he had vanished instead.

She barely saw him anymore, except during classes—and even then, he was gone the mont the lesson ended.

It was as if he had erased himself from their world.

No more arguing. No more sneering remarks. No more Severus Snape.

And for so infuriating reason, she missed him.

"Why do I even care? He made his choice."

But as she watched him excel effortlessly in every subject, outperforming even her, she felt sothing strange.

It wasn't anger. It wasn't resentnt.

It was uncertainty.

"What are you doing, Severus?"

Jas Potter's POV

Jas Potter didn't like this new Snape.

The old Snivellus had been easy to provoke, always ready to snap at an insult, always so pathetically defensive.

But now?

Now, Snape ignored them completely.

No glares, no snide remarks, no fury-filled insults.

Just cold indifference.

And that—that—made Jas furious.

"He thinks he's better than us."

"Thinks he can just brush everything off like we don't matter."

For the first ti, Jas wasn't sure who was winning their little war.

And he hated it.

Sirius Black's POV

Sirius Black had spent years tornting Snape—because it was fun.

The greasy git had always been so miserable, so defensive, so easy to wind up.

But now?

Now, he had changed.

Sirius didn't like it.

It felt like Snape was planning sothing—like he was playing a ga no one else knew the rules to.

And that made Sirius uneasy.

Seeking Sumr Opportunities

Severus knew he couldn't return to Spinner's End for the sumr.

That place was not his ho. It was a prison, and he would rather sleep in the streets than spend another second under Tobias Snape's roof.

So, he needed a plan.

On a Friday evening, he approached Professor Flitwick after class.

"Professor," he said evenly. "I was wondering if you knew of any sumr internships or work opportunities for students."

Flitwick raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"That depends, my boy! What are you looking for?"

"Sothing that provides accommodation," Severus said carefully. "Even a basic living arrangent will do."

Flitwick frowned slightly but nodded.

"I'll see if I can find sothing for you, Severus," he said. "It's good to see you thinking ahead."

The real help, however, ca from Madam Pomfrey.

The next morning, she pulled him aside after breakfast.

"I heard you were looking for sumr work," she said, arms crossed.

Severus nodded.

"I have a friend who owns a potions shop in Diagon Alley," she continued. "She's looking for a capable assistant—soone who knows their way around ingredients, who can help in basic brewing and organization. The shop provides accommodation for three months."

Severus' heart leaped.

This was perfect.

"I'll take it," he said imdiately.

Pomfrey gave him a small, approving nod.

"I'll write to her with my recomndation," she said. "You've always been one of the most talented potion students I've treated."

For the first ti in years, Severus felt genuine gratitude toward soone.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

The next few weeks were brutal.

Severus barely ate, barely slept, pushing himself to study harder than ever before.

And when the exams arrived?

He excelled.

But no one knew it.

Potions – Flawless execution. Even Slughorn was forced to acknowledge that Severus was on par with the best brewers in Britain.

Charms – Perfect spell control. Flitwick gave him a rare nod of approval.

Transfiguration – Difficult, but manageable.

Ancient Runes – Perfect translations.

Defense Against the Dark Arts – Practically effortless.

His scores were only known to the exam proctors—Hogwarts teachers and the visiting officials from the Ministry of Education, including Griselda Marchbanks, the Governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority.

The results would be sent by owl post during the sumr.

Until then?

No one would suspect a thing.

The school year ended, and Severus boarded the Hogwarts Express, leaving behind the castle that had been both his prison and his battlefield.

This ti, when the train pulled into King's Cross Station, he didn't feel dread.

He felt free.

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