"You've made a lot of new friends, Severus," Lily said softly as they walked toward the Head Students' compartment. Her voice was unnaturally calm. "I'm happy for you."
"Yes, yes, new friends." Snape tugged uncomfortably at his collar, feeling as though something was crawling inside his robes. "Much better than the old ones. Oh, of course- I mean.. besides you."
A flicker of an unreadable emotion flashed through Lily's eyes, but it vanished just as quickly.
She reached out and pushed open the door to the Head Students' compartment. It was empty, save for two beams of sunlight cutting through the post-rain clouds, spilling diagonally across a pair of armchairs and casting mottled shadows.
"What kind of instructions are we supposed to give the prefects?" Snape asked quickly, eager to change the subject, while secretly scratching the itchy spot on his back.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Lily asked, frowning slightly at his odd behavior.
"Probably allergies," Snape muttered, avoiding her gaze. "You know, weather and all that."
"I'll do most of the talking," Lily said, sitting down in one of the armchairs and pulling a notebook from her bag. "It's nothing complicated, routine stuff. Patrol the train, stop any pranks, make sure the first-years are safe..."
"Good, good," Snape sighed in relief. "I'll leave it to you, Lily."
In both of his lifetimes, he had never held such an important "official" position. If it hadn't been absolutely necessary to stop James from becoming Head Boy, he wouldn't have bothered lobbying Professor Dumbledore for the post at all.
The train let out a long whistle and began to move. Outside the window, the platform receded, and the students' parents waving goodbye grew smaller and smaller.
Gradually, the prefects from each house arrived. When they saw the badge gleaming on Snape's chest, most of them wore looks of disbelief.
Although Snape had won the dueling championship the previous term, he hadn't done anything else that was particularly well known. Dumbledore's decision to make him Head Boy clearly came as a surprise.
Lupin, at least, didn't look shocked, but his eyes kept flicking toward Snape, his brows furrowing with what looked like faint worry.
Snape knew that expression all too well, every time the Marauders plotted a prank, Lupin would wear that same look of helpless concern.
Maybe he's worried for his friends, Snape thought. Well, that worry isn't misplaced. After all, as the saying goes: "Use your power before it expires." It would be a shame to waste this final year without making their lives a little miserable.
While Lily spoke to the prefects and gave out assignments, Snape watched her brisk, capable movements, and took the chance to survey the twenty-three prefects before him.
Suddenly, his gaze met a pair of deep brown eyes.
She was a Slytherin prefect, a graceful, striking girl with long black hair tied back by a silver-green ribbon.
He noticed she had been looking at him for a while. Her eyes occasionally drifted toward his wristwatch.
That watch was a coming-of-age gift from Eileen. He'd later learned from her that it was a luxury handcrafted magical watch from Switzerland, worth more than a thousand Galleons.
It took him a moment to remember the Slytherin girl's name, Zabini.
Oh, right. The future "Madam Zabini," who would go on to marry seven times, with each husband dying mysteriously and leaving her a handsome inheritance.
But why did she keep the surname Zabini instead of her husbands'? Maybe because she married so many that changing surnames became too much of a hassle, so she just stuck with her own?
Snape immediately sat up straight. What did that look of hers mean? He wasn't interested in her at all. And even if he were, who in their right mind would dare?
At last, Lily finished assigning tasks.
"All right," she said, closing her notebook. "You may begin your rounds."
The prefects nodded and began filing out of the compartment.
Zabini, however, lingered behind, pacing slowly near the door.
"Head Boy Snape," she said, her voice low and rich, "I've just become a prefect this year, and I'm not too sure about the details of the job. Could you... show me how it's done?"
Her voice was actually quite pleasant, Snape thought.
But if she was only just made a prefect, that meant she was in fifth year. Which, in turn, meant she would have her son, Blaise Zabini, at the age of eighteen. Quite... productive of her.
At that thought, an awful image flashed in his mind, him lying on a hospital bed, while Zabini stood over him holding a bowl of suspicious-looking potion and saying: "Severus, come, drink this."
"I'm busy!" Snape snapped, shaking the ridiculous thought away. His tone grew harsh and defensive, his victim's instinct kicking in. "Go by yourself!"
Startled, Zabini froze, her wide eyes filled with fear. She stumbled back and hurried out of the compartment.
"Why were you so harsh to her?" Lily asked, confusion written across her green eyes.
"Because I'd like to live a long life," Snape said with a short laugh. "To our longevity!"
Lily gave him a puzzled look but merely sighed. "Come on, we should split up and start patrolling."
Patrolling the carriages turned out to be somewhat entertaining.
Snape walked with his hands clasped behind his back, like a black bat inspecting his territory.
The younger students looked at him with fear and awe, lowering their voices as he passed. That feeling, of being feared, wasn't half bad.
"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 cross him."
"Why?" asked a round-faced boy clutching a Chocolate Frog card. "Is he stronger than Dumbledore? This says Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of our time."
He held up the card, on it, Dumbledore winked at them.
"Shh! Quiet!" the older student hissed, darting a nervous glance toward Snape. "Even if you yank out the Headmaster's beard, he'd only expel you. But if you cross that man..." He made a throat-cutting gesture. "He'll make you withdraw yourself from school."
Snape walked past them, then deliberately turned back.
The third-year immediately fell silent. The first-year was so frightened he dropped his card. On the floor, Dumbledore's image scrambled back upright, glaring furiously from the frame.
"Grow well at Hogwarts, little one," Snape said slowly, bending down to hand the card back and patting the boy's shoulder. "Cherish the days I'm still here, you have only one precious year left to learn from me."
Then, in unusually high spirits, he continued his rounds down the train corridor.
In an open compartment ahead, he caught the familiar sound of a voice he loathed.
He drew his wand, stopped at the doorway, and let out a cold laugh.
"What do you want, Snivellus?" James snapped before Snape could speak, his hand already twitching toward his wand.
"Mind your manners, Potter," Snape drawled, deliberately adjusting the gleaming badge on his chest. "Or I'll give you detention."
"You see, unlike you, I've become Head Boy," he continued, savoring the flicker of irritation on James's face. "Which means, unlike you, I now have the authority to punish others."