Anziora

the official mermay prompts are lowkey boring and too corporate. so here's my take on em, i guess

I would have loved having Snape in DADA class. Or just hearing him babble about it for hours. It was his special interest, of course it would have been super interesting.

The definition of “Dark Magic” is incredibly vague to begin with. What do they even mean when they say something is Dark Magic? Is it something involving blood? The soul? Is there an actual definition? Or is Dark Magic just whatever causes people pain, fear, or other physical or emotional harm? Maybe it’s all just divided up according to what’s written in some textbook?

If we follow that logic — that Dark Magic is anything that causes harm — then what about the spell James used on Severus? It was just a simple cleaning spell, but he used it to humiliate and hurt him. Does the act become more acceptable just because the spell itself wasn’t technically Dark? They say Dark Magic damages the soul — but what if it’s used for a good cause? Is that even possible?

Take Avada Kedavra, for example — yes, it’s a Dark spell. But what if someone used it to give another person a quick, painless death — as an act of mercy? Is that still considered evil? And what about Imperius — what if it’s used to help someone overcome a crippling fear, like talking them down from a rooftop?

If Light Magic is used for harm, is that somehow better than using Dark Magic for good? From a moral standpoint, is there even a real difference? Is the difference only magical in nature?

Is being interested in the Dark Arts the same as being into dismemberment? Murder? Torture? Does it mean you’re some kind of sadist? Does that mean it’s completely unacceptable to even study or be curious about it? But if you don’t understand Dark Magic, how can you become a true master of Defense Against the Dark Arts? Is that even possible? Does someone who knows everything about Dark Magic automatically count as a villain or a Dark wizard?

Most of the criticism aimed at Severus is about him falling in with the wrong crowd and planning to become a Death Eater. But Lily specifically blames him for being interested in Dark Magic — and not even for actually using it. Is that how Rowling intended the narrative to work — that studying Dark Magic is already a sin? Or is it just Lily’s childish bias, not fully understanding what they’re dealing with or the potential dangers and benefits of that kind of knowledge?

A muscle twitched unpleasantly at the corner of Snape’s thin mouth every time he looked at Harry, and he was constantly flexing his fingers, as though itching to place them around Harry’s throat.

Snape eyed Harry, tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger as he did so. ... Snape stared at Harry for a few moments, still tracing his mouth with his finger. When he spoke again, it was slowly and deliberately, as though he weighed every word.

The office dissolved but re-formed instantly. Snape was pacing up and down in front of Dumbledore.

The adult Snape was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, waiting for something or for someone. … Snape was wringing his hands

Snape paces when he is stressed

Snape touches his mouth when considering what to say

Snape is prone to muscle twitches when (more) stressed (than usual)

Snape wrings his hands and flexes his fingers

Headcanons (autistic snape time):

Snape would naturally stim more obviously, but between his father and being unpopular in school, he had to keep things subtle and/or internal. When he's alone he shakes/flaps his hands, or rocks. He likes to lean back to feel his hair on his back, and finds it soothing. In public he just flexes the fingers, though he'll also stretch/fold his toes if he thinks nobody can see, or rubs his fingers together inside his robe pockets

"Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile." wrong, harry - he's biting the insides of his cheeks and/or tucking his inside lips/rubbing his gums with his lips because it's soothing and wtf is happening rn, mrs norris is maybe dead

"Oh, yes, they’re arguing,’ said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what he was doing. ‘But it won’t be that long and I’ll be gone."

And then when he's shy and doesn't know how to word his emotions properly:

and an especially excellent addition about the leaves, above. i can't believe i forgot the leaf shredding!

i had to look into pressure stims and what i found (courtesy of reddit) is that i also do that, i just didn't realise :P and so i present some further thoughts which are really just me projecting:

alone

snape sitting on his legs when reading/studying

piling things on top of himself to sleep like pillows, blankets (unless he invests in a weighted blanket, which i can't really see since it would involve a level of combined awareness and self-care i simply do not believe he would have). essentially sleeps half-buried in a nest

sleeping face down and laying on his arms at night

rocking when he needs to feel soothed/is a bit more relaxed, because for me at least that's me just Vibing

hand flapping when he's overwhelmed and needs to let out energy, usually accompanies pacing, EXCLUSIVELY when alone, however, because pacing and/or hand clenching/wringing is more socially acceptable than hand flapping

in public

heavy clothing - i expect some well-made robes might be quite heavy overall, giving him a sense of pressure and weight, and security

squeezing his hands/fingers tightly to the point of crushing them (wringing his hands, same as point above)

if we lean into alan rickman's costume ideas and JKR's sketches and this meta, tight clothes, or tightly wrapping his cloak/arms around himself, like a bat

as for the leaf shredding, i wonder whether the shredding action might have 'turned inward' as well as he grew up:

[cw for skin picking and associated issues, painful stims?]

i like to hc that snape as an adult has some kind of dermatillomania/skin picking habit for when he's in private. nowhere too obvious, because again, having bloodied or otherwise torn up fingers or no fingernails often gets commented on and disparaged, and harry has mentioned snape's long yellow fingers (but made no mention of them being especially tatty). ofc, as an adult, snape in private may still tear at/fidget with things, but that's widely not considered to be very ~seemly~, so he wouldn't be able to do it as an adult in the workplace/in company such as the malfoys or voldemort for fear of looking weak/nervous/unprofessional/dirty/distracted

i have mentioned elsewhere as well but whilst i'm here, that for me personally as a scalp picker, i used to put playground sand in my hair for something to play with during lessons, so i can see baby snape hiding in the bushes doing that sort of thing. and maybe snape did pick his fingers as a teen - i can see teen snape accidentally smudging his essays with blood just because he's torn his fingers to shreds with stress and they never really get a chance to heal. his nails and cuticle areas are permanently slightly misshapen and calloused as an adult, but he doesn't allow himself to do it any more

i still regularly search my scalp as an adult with the goal of picking, and people have asked me (as a joke, i think, but highkey intended to make me stop) whether or not i have fleas - and for snape, i think, those sorts of comments would give him a terrible complex given how and where he was raised, especially if they came from the wealthy purebloods in his house, or even from james potter/sirius (aka the wealthy purebloods from gryffindor). thinking now about Lucius' comments about Arthur Weasley: "flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool". older teen/young adult snape especially would absolutely NOT want to be considered poor, muggle, or flea-bitten

but under his clothes and hair, adult snape's got a really frequent habit of skin picking, his arms and scalp covered in blemishes and little crescent scars, and he CANNOT leave a scab untouched. he didn't really touch his legs until the fluffy incident, but it was game over from that point too

i also wonder if some of this leans into pain stims: skin picking, biting the inside of his mouth, pulling his hair, clenching the teeth, pinching/hitting/scratching himself. some things he could do more subtly than others (pinching himself inside his robes, teeth clenching, biting his mouth) but others would be for in private only, and only in places on his body where people couldn't see any resulting injuries or bruises - helped, of course, by his long robes, long hair, and long sleeves covering almost everything up but for his hands and face

also smoking is a stim for some people, and nothing can convince me that his teeth and finger(s) aren't nicotine stained and that his lungs aren't the colour of his robes. not only is slowly poisoning oneself to not collapse from stress extra Snape coded, but I'm pretty sure he picked up the habit before he even was 11 with the place he grew up at. and we already know Severus finds a touch to his lips concentration providing (which is way too cute to think about. this man is a treasure).

I think Severus might visual stim too? "the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes" anyone? the weird slimy things in jars collection?

The boy who cracked Voldemort’s secret, turned against the Dark Lord, and gave his life to strike a decisive blow for the greater good. Sounds impressive, right?

But don’t let the fanon fever dream—or the Chalamet cheekbones—fool you.

1. The Fanboy Who Bought His Own Propaganda

How did Regulus get into this mess in the first place? He wasn’t dragged kicking and screaming into Voldemort’s inner circle. He wanted it. This was the boy who looked at Voldemort’s genocidal cult and thought, “Yes, this is my moment.” Voldemort wasn’t just a leader to Regulus—he was an idol, a pure-blood messiah, promising everything Regulus had been raised to worship.

His parents weren’t even Death Eaters themselves. Walburga and Orion preferred to clink their glasses from the sidelines, content to watch the chaos from their pure-blood balcony seats.

But Regulus? He wanted center stage. For him, the Death Eaters weren’t a prison—they were a playground. He signed up for the dark glamour, the exclusivity, and the chance to be on the frontlines of Voldemort’s “vision.” Regulus wasn’t coerced or manipulated—he was all in, fully convinced he was playing for the winning team.

Until, of course, Voldemort stopped being the star of Regulus’s dark power fantasy. And when reality set in, Regulus had a change of heart. But did he admit, “I was wrong”? Did he stand up and fight for the people he’d helped oppress? No. He folded.

2. The Master Plan That Wasn’t

Regulus was practically spoon-fed the truth about the Horcruxes. Voldemort’s most guarded secret was gift-wrapped and dumped at his feet, courtesy of a tortured house-elf.

And this wasn’t just any secret. This was the kind of revelation that could’ve turned the entire war around. But instead of responding with precision, foresight, or even basic competence, Regulus managed to botch it at every possible step.

Step 1: He stole the locket.

Stealing the locket sounds like a bold move, right? On paper, it’s the kind of Gryffindor-level defiance fandom loves to romanticize. But in reality, it was a tactical nightmare.

Regulus didn’t just take the locket from a location Voldemort’s obnoxious ego would’ve eventually exposed. No, he took it and hid it in Grimmauld Place.

Instead of leaving it in the cave, where someone might’ve uncovered it, Regulus thought, “You know what? Let me stash this in my creepy ancestral house, where only my guilt-ridden, traumatized house-elf knows it exists.” Revolutionary thinking, truly. Because when dismantling a Dark Lord’s immortality, the best plan is obviously to make the Horcrux even more inaccessible, right?

The only reason the locket ever surfaced was because Harry inherited Grimmauld Place. If not for that stroke of luck, the locket would’ve sat there, untouched and invincible, for decades. Maybe centuries.

Or worse—as we saw happen in canon—it could’ve been stolen, passed from hand to hand like a cursed trinket, and lost forever. Voldemort would’ve cackled his way to world domination while the wizarding community fought a battle they couldn’t ever win.

Step 2: He didn’t destroy it.

Destroying a Horcrux isn’t easy—I’ll give Regulus that. But did he even try? Or did he just hand the locket to Kreacher with the world’s vaguest instructions, essentially saying, “Figure it out, sweetie,” before marching off to die dramatically?

Kreacher, bless his loyal, trauma-ridden heart, spent decades torturing himself trying to destroy an indestructible object with no tools, no guidance, and no real chance of success. He tried everything he could think of, punishing himself endlessly for failing a task that was never within his power to complete.

Regulus doomed him. Instead of empowering Kreacher to carry out his wishes, Regulus turned his act of “redemption” into a lifelong burden for someone who had no choice but to carry it.

Step 3: He told no one.

Now here’s where Regulus truly shines in sabotage disguised as sacrifice. Whether it was arrogance, misplaced pride, or a refusal to meaningfully contribute to Voldemort’s downfall, he ensured that the secret he uncovered—the one that could have turned the war on its head—was buried right alongside him.

Perhaps the poor boy couldn’t stomach the idea of contacting Dumbledore or joining the resistance. Maybe the thought of lowering himself to grovel before the Order, confessing his sins, and actually helping was too much for his delicate pure-blood ego.

But what, then, compelled him to entomb such precious knowledge alongside his corpse? Would it have killed him—again—to ensure Kreacher delivered the locket and its significance to someone who could actually do something about it?

Instead, Regulus left behind nothing but a moody breakup note to Voldemort that helped absolutely no one.

“I hope you will be mortal once more.” Oh yes, that glorified Dear John letter. Maybe he thought his scathing parting words would haunt Voldemort forever. Perhaps Tom was meant to reread it late at night, questioning his life choices.

3. What Could Have Been

Regulus had options. So many options. The fact that he chose the least effective course of action is almost impressive in its sheer incompetence.

He could’ve swallowed his pride and gone to Dumbledore. Say what you will about the man, but Dumbledore was Voldemort’s greatest fear for a reason. Armed with Regulus’s intel, Dumbledore could’ve started breaking apart the Horcrux network years earlier, crippling Voldemort before Harry was even born.

He could’ve warned the Order. Regulus could’ve shared this revelation with his brother. He could’ve even scrawled a quick, anonymous note: “Voldemort made Horcruxes. Here’s one.” That alone could’ve shifted the entire war.

He could’ve destroyed the locket himself. With access to cursed objects, forbidden magic, and centuries of pure-blood knowledge, Regulus had the resources to figure it out.

If Regulus had simply done nothing—if he had left the Horcrux untouched in Voldemort’s lair, waiting for someone more competent to find it—it still would’ve been a better choice than what he did. At least then, it wouldn’t have been stashed in a location even less traceable than Voldemort’s own cursed lake.

4. The Fallout of Failure

Regulus didn’t just fail—he left behind a colossal mess for others to clean up.

Kreacher suffered for decades. The loyal house-elf blamed himself for a failure that was never his fault. Regulus didn’t just abandon the locket—he abandoned Kreacher to a lifetime of guilt and self-inflicted punishment.

The Order fought blind. Deprived of any knowledge about Voldemort’s Horcruxes, the Order spent years floundering in the dark, waging desperate battles against Death Eaters while the true key to victory—Voldemort’s immortality—remained untouched.

The Trio cleaned up his mess. Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent months hunting down a Horcrux that could’ve been destroyed decades earlier. Their entire mission to find and destroy Voldemort’s Horcruxes was prolonged and made infinitely harder.

5. Fandom’s Saint of Aesthetic Suffering

In the end, Regulus was just a boy who stumbled onto a world-shattering discovery, fumbled it completely, and left behind a legacy so utterly useless that it took sheer dumb luck to untangle long after his dramatic exit. Regulus’s actions didn’t just delay Voldemort’s defeat—they actively sabotaged the resistance.

But none of this matters. Fandom doesn’t love Regulus for his actions—it loves him for his aesthetic.

I like Regulus – I like pathetic boys who have no idea what they are doing, but... he just made things worse for everyone. His efficiency was a number with a negative value.