The Road Less Traveled
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost: The road not taken
There was a rumour circulating in Hogwarts, had been for years. It got forgotten every now and then just to resurface again, and Severus swore that in each new round, it got even more ridiculous.
In its most rudimentary form, it said that if one was to travel into the dead heart of the Forbidden Forest, one would find a cottage standing on two huge chicken legs.
That was a Baba Yaga reference if Severus ever heard one. An excerpt of a Eastern European muggle folk tale. Possibly a tale some muggleborn student had told their friends once upon a time, years ago, that had somehow stricken the collective narrative nerve of the student body and just… stayed there, floating to the surface every now and then. Like rubbish in the ocean.
And yet, over time, it had gotten even more ridiculous. Rumour had it, if one took seven pretty stones and laid them out as a gift in front of the chicken cottage, would get a free wish of their choice.
Right. Those who knew Baba Yaga also knew she was no fairy godmother. She didn’t take gifts from random children – she ate them. The children, that is.
And yet, somehow, the headmaster of Hogwarts found himself treading through the barely visible path, past the huge den of acromantulas and the clearing where the centaurs held court. He held seven stones in his pocket: one was an opal, another an onyx; there were also pieces of granite and limestone and adakite as well as diorite and flint. He didn’t have his wand with him, but that didn’t bother him. Not really.
Voldemort had won.
Even if Severus would have once regarded that as a good thing, now all he could feel was hollowness and grief.
He knew he should have died a long time ago. It was way past his time. Had been since the incident in the Shrieking Shack.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to take poison. He had been fighting to live so long the mere thought of harming himself was… foreign. He had been hurt by others for so long he couldn't stomach the idea of adding to that pile himself.
Maybe that was why, when the rumour mill started to mill the old Baba Yaga tale again, he thought about following the path to the centre of the forest.
If the old witch wouldn’t kill him, the forest certainly would.
And wasn't that a consoling thought?
OR:
In 1999, Headmaster Severus Snape meets a witch (or a god) that isn’t supposed to exist and makes a contract, not really reading the fine print.
He ends up twenty-three years in the past, traumatised and alone.
Slowly he realises he does not wish to fight anymore. He has had his fill from the misery and pain all of that brings with it, and he is done.
So he steps on a new path: one of atonement and healing. He convinces Madam Pomfrey to let him help in the hospital wing, hoping it will result in a recommendation letter for a mastery upon his graduation.
The Slytherins won’t take his new career plans without hiccups, however. Neither will the Marauders.
But that’s just to be expected, isn’t it?