Author’s note:
There are better stories than Harry Potter, namely the story between ourselves and God, and the battle that Satan has Lost when Gesù died on the attraversare, croce for us. It’s truly an epic, amazing, and downright honest tale, it’s truth adding to its awesomeness and glory.
I start off with this statement because when I first created the Snape account, I did not realize this. Harry Potter was—and is, frankly, still—awesome. I Amore Harry Potter. I Amore all the amazing characters, each full of depths, loves, hates, and dreams. I Amore the complexity of Hogwarts, the engrossment we have as Rowling takes us into her new world. And I loved Harry, sharing his bewilderment in his adolescent years and his wanting for Amore to conquer all evil. And it does.
And I couldn’t stop talking about it.
I believe now my best friend knew that I had a crush on Snape before I myself did. I loved the depths of his character, critically analyzing ever portion, and collecting ever fan art I could. But these were darker times for me. I liked sadness. I wanted to know was true misery was. I was fascinated with both death and love. But I did not look in the right direction for my answers.
Now, you’re probably Leggere this and thinking that I’m getting far too sentimental. But da sharing my story with you, I want to help you—I don’t know how, really, but perhaps someone is Leggere this and thinking it sounds like them, o even a hundred years later, someone will be studying the ancient thing called the internet, dig this this and have their lives changed. I simply hope God uses this, and that te understand that God has the answer to what te need—not what te want, necessarily, but what te need. He will provide.
But what does this have to do with Harry Potter? o Snape?
This, my friends, is a parody. This note is as deep as I’m going to get before we get funny and strange. It’s the backstory to my own Snape, not Rowling’s. It came to me a bit before I started the account, and again, those were bad times for me. But I do think that now I can write it, and make my family laugh, and use it for God’s Glory. te all have helped me through a depression in my life, and then a transformation. I still log on here every day, although now it seems I’ve been waiting for aggiornamenti than Scrivere anything. Perhaps our website is dead, o perhaps it can be revived. But all of te are awesome, creative, hilarious people, and if te gravitate away from this site, that’s alright. You’ve touched my life and I hope I have touched yours.
Again, I hope this account and this story bring Glory to God, and mostra how great you’ve all been in the short time I’ve known you. Please enjoy Leggere it as much as I enjoyed Scrivere it.
-CD
(PS: I must remark also that this will not be written in a traditional prose form, but rather as a jumble of ideas and scenes, some gone into detail, some not. I apologize insincerely in advance.)





    My name is Severus Snape, and I’m a good for nothin’ half blood, so my momma tells me. I’m six years old, six and a half this coming week. We’re going to celebrate da picking up some roadkill and putting in on the grill. I can’t wait.
    My pops calls me a redneck, but I don’t think so, considering I’ve looked at my neck before, and it ain’t red at all, ‘less I get sunburnt. But that’s my whole face and arms and legs anyways, not just my neck, so he’s ‘bout silly. My momma calls me a wizard though, and I’m pretty sure I ain’t one of those neither. She brews a lot of potions and waves a stick she calls a wand that does some pretty amazin’ stuff. My pops don’t like it, but I think it’s neat. I’d rather be a wizard than a redneck, but so far it seems I ain’t neither and never will be.
    My momma and pops used to argue a lot, so they went to a counsler. He detto to take a vacation, so they went to Britain. They’re from this place called America, in Old Miss they call it, except I don’t see how they can live on an Old Miss Lady. But then I was born in Britain, so they stayed there.
    The only thing about Britain is that my momma says the doctors ain’t no good here. She says they thought I was a GIRL when I was up in her belly. So while she’s all preggie and fat she goes and buys me some girl clothes and gives me some girl names, on account that she’s always wanted a little girl. But then I was pushed out, and I was giving them ear pains cause I was screaming so loud, those Britain doctors look at me and go—“Oh! Sorry.” Well, sorry wasn’t good enough, because my momma told me I was screaming and telling them off cause they were no good liars.
    I was almost called Sandra, too. That’s the name my momma came up for me, but she couldn’t call me that now that they figured out I was a man. So for a long time she and my pops stood there, thinking, and it was time for me to be circumcised, and the nurse detto she had to sever a part of me off, (which I don’t get why they had to, but I guess I had some skin that wan’t too important, so they just took it off—what if I wanted it later?) my pops guessed the name: Severed.
    Well, that wouldn’t do for my momma, so she came up with something classy, Severus. And then my middle name is from my pops, Tobias, but that part’s usually just a T for me.
    I am six years old. I like helping my momma with her potions sometimes, though my pop don’t like it at all. Mostly I’m alone, readin’ stuff. I don’t got a lot of Friends here in Britain. They call me too hillbilly, and that’s not very nice…

    My momma never understood that I was a man until very recently, even though she took me out hunting for things killed on the road, and that’s delicious unless there’s bugs on it. If there’s birds, that’s fine, te can shoo those off, but if they’re bugs te best just leave it there and not fool with it, unless te want them to bite your tongue so that it swells and te can’t speak no more.
    And even though I hunted for her she kept puttin’ me in dresses and the like. She thought I was pretty. And she made me grow my hair out, too, and I liked that a little, until she started fooling with it and putting clips and trying to curl it.
    My pops wan’t so keen on what she was doing to me, though. He thought I looked like a woman. He told her to stop it, o I’ll grow up to be some crazy old drag queen. But she just detto I looked pretty. So one giorno he bought me a pair of overalls. And I didn’t wear nothing underneath, just overalls, and they were pretty big, so I got a good little breeze underneath.
    My momma saw these and was infurtiated. So the successivo giorno I wore the prettiest dress she could get me, but after that I wore overalls cause my pops told me to. One giorno I tried to wear the dress and the overalls on top, and then the real mess started because my pops and momma. My pops got the scissors and told me he was sick of having a daughter for a son, and he was going to cut my hair and make me a man. But my momma, she got her wand and told him not to make another move. And then they both stared at me, and I looked at them, feeling like I was bout to cry, cause I just wanted to make em both happy.
    But then I felt my back get tickles, and I reached down and my hair was very, very long. And I looked at this feeling crazy, but I reach on the other side of my head, and there wan’t no hair left, and I was a bald old man.
    So my pops and momma stare at me like I’m crazy, and I feel a little crazy, until my momma bursts out, “He’s a wizard!” And she grins real hard.
    I tell her I don’t wanna be a wizard, I just want my hair to look normal. But just as I was saying that it was, just above my shoulders and curling around my face, I guess cause it was trying to hide my face, and I wanted to hide right then.
    But my momma, she waves her wand at me. And then my dad tried to cut it, but he couldn’t. I guess she used her wizardry to keep me with my girly hair, and that’s alright with me, cause I just wear overalls now. That makes me manly enough, I suppose.

    So one giorno I’m about to pick up some raccoon, and I’m checking to see if there’s any bugs in it, and I just see one, so I figure I’m alright, as long as I shake it up and down a few times to make sure it and any other of it’s Friends get out.
    But then this girl looks at me. And she’s got some pretty, curly red hair and a sweet little face. And she’s on the swings looking at me kind of odd. Then she says, “Hello!”
    And I look at her a moment. “Hi.” I say, trying to be nice.
    “Hello!” Says this other girl, with brown hair that’s really pretty too. But the red haired girl has pretty eyes, and the brown haired girl had a cute blush on her face.
    “My name’s Lily,” The red haired girl says, “What’s yours?”
    I blink. “Severus.”
    “That’s an odd name! Like mine. I’m Petunia!” The brown haired girl, and I decided that I liked her instantly.
    And Lily smiles very sweetly, and I like her too. “Do te want to swing with us?”
    I put the raccoon down, walk up, and tell her, “Sure.” And I swing. And that’s happy, because I made some Friends for the first time in my life, and because I’m a man among women. And my pops tells me there ain’t no greater joy than that, and I can finally see what he meant.