The boy is father to the man but pressure and circumstance can so alter a person as to make him almost unrecognisable. This may be a different version of Snape than you’re used to, an abused lonely boy whose decisions came from his heart rather than his head. How did he develop into the calculating controlled Potions master of canon? And was Dumbledore’s offer a gift or a curse?

---

The boy stood in the headmaster’s office, hiding as usual behind a curtain of greasy black hair. All that could be seen of his face was the tip of a large hooked nose.

Professor Dumbledore’s chair was pushed away from his desk. He looked up with a gentle smile.

“You wanted to see me, Mr Snape?”

There was no answering smile, only a lengthening silence. Then a rough, hoarse cry, “I can’t do this anymore!” and the boy began rolling up his left sleeve. On the pale smooth skin was an ugly black brand of a snake-tongued skull. The Dark Mark.

The headmaster forgot to twinkle. One hand clenched on the arm of his chair as his suddenly-narrowed eyes locked on to the Death Eater sign of allegiance on his student’s arm.

“When?” he demanded.

Thin lips trembled then tightened.

“Last December.”

An in-drawn breath. The man leaned forward.

“December? Before or after Mr Black’s prank?” Blue eyes tried unavailingly to see behind the stringy hair.

That has nothing to do with it!” the boy snapped, his head half-rearing. Then he shrugged and stared at the floor, blinking rapidly. His Adam's apple bobbed several times. “After.”

The man slumped, silver hair and beard seeming to quiver.

“Oh, my child, my poor child. What have I done to you?”

Hard defiant black eyes looked at him for the first time in months.

“Why should you think you have anything to with it? As if I care enough to be affected by what you do.”

The headmaster watched him with sad sympathy.

“My proud angry boy,” he murmured, reaching out a hand. Suddenly the younger flung himself into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t blame yourself, it’s just me. I’m evil and hateful and – They were right about me. I deserved to die. Should have let Loopy eat me!”

“Oh, my dear child.” Dumbledore patted the greasy hair and wrapped his other arm around the boy’s thin trembling frame. How had it come to this? In trying to save one boy had he doomed the other?

“What shall I do with you?” he wondered as the shaking body stilled.

Young Severus looked up at him with wide surprised eyes.

“Give me up for Azkaban, of course. What else can you do?” He wiped his nose on his hand, sniffing. “It won’t be so bad losing my good memories,” he added, twisting his mouth into a would-be smile. “I don’t have many anyhow.”

The other winced and held him tighter but after a moment he extricated himself and hunched against the desk, wrapping his arms around his skinny chest.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and opened them again.

“There’s only one alternative," he pronounced judgement. “You could become our spy.”

“Spy? You mean betray my friends?” They hadn’t been very good friends but they were the only ones he’d had. His voice trembled. “I’d rather just go to Azkaban.”

“Child, did it not occur to you that you’d be interrogated under Veritaserum? You’ve no choice but to betray your friends – unless you can bite your tongue off. And then they’d probably get a special order permitting them to Imperio you. They will have the truth one way or another.”

“Oh. I should have just mixed up some poison, shouldn’t I? Put myself to sleep forever.”

The boy gulped as his agile brain catalogued toxins. What was fast-acting and irreversible that was quick to brew or could be stolen from the infirmary? Why had he been such a fool as to come here? Coward!

“You – you won’t let me go away and do that, will you? Please?”

The headmaster bit hard on his lower lip. It was the first time he’d ever heard that proud private boy plead. His throat burned on his reply.

“I can’t. You know I can’t do that. It’s everyone’s duty and responsibility to do whatever they can to defeat Voldemort -”

Severus flinched.

“Yours too,” Dumbledore finished. He watched heavy lids veil those black eyes that had burned imploringly into his a moment ago. Then the boy turned his face away.

“You can’t expect that of me. You can’t!” he muttered.

“I expect nothing,” came the reply.

Behind the hair a young face closed. You never did expect anything of me, did you? I’m only a Slytherin. The accusation went unspoken. The headmaster continued, unknowing.

“It’s your choice. Betray your friends of your own will and work secretly to defeat Voldemort -” Again the listener flinched at the name. “Or not of your will and rot in Azkaban. Only you can decide.”

If the boy had looked up, he might have seen the genuine sorrow in those blue eyes and understood. He didn’t.

“I’ll give you half an hour to think before I call the Aurors. You’d better hand over your wand now,” the old voice continued with steady implacability.

Severus pulled out his wand and stared at it for a moment then jerked the point to his chest.

“Avada Kedavra.”

The room lit with a sickly green light and the wand slipped from senseless fingers. A violent shudder and the boy opened his eyes to see the headmaster sitting as still as stone. His voice turned sullen.

“You didn’t even try to stop me.”

“I knew you didn’t have the will to wish yourself dead,” the old man replied gravely, stooping however to snatch the wand to the safety of his own hands before the boy could try a more creative solution. Obliviate himself, perhaps, or use a slicing hex on his tongue. “You’ve half an hour to consider. Choose wisely.”

Severus rocked back on his heels and stared at his hands. He was as trapped as ever. He looked across the years into a dim decades-ahead future, seeing himself still vainly trying to break free. If he were a spy he’d have a tiny chance. If he went to Azkaban he’d have none.

“No need. I’ll do whatever I have to. Spy if that’s your will,” he spat. “Till I’m dead and forgotten.” And the sooner the better.

---

There's no absolute evidence as to when the werewolf incident occurred, except that Snape was sixteen. As his birthday has now been revealed as Jan 9 and JK has said the cut-off for Hogwarts entry is Sept 1, it must have happened before Jan 9 of his sixth year.

HBP-canon suggests that Snape didn't begin spying until some years after graduating from Hogwarts, after Voldemort had already heard the prophecy and chosen Harry as the child in question. The two timelines will be reconciled eventually, but I won't explain till I get there.

Behind the twinkle and the amiable waffle, Dumbledore can be quite ruthless - as he needs to be. In canon, he tends to put war considerations above school considerations, such as student safety. He wouldn't hand over a Death Eater student to Azkaban, but he presumably trusts the Aurors who have joined the Order. Yet perhaps he should have made his intentions clearer to them...