New Entry, July 19:

I don't know why I keep this stupid journal. Probably that learned response that Muggles are always screaming about on their television news broadcasts. My father was a firm believer in journals and drilled his children mercilessly in the usefulness of the things.

"Keeps your knowledge and your sense of self for posterity, Severus," he would say when I asked why I should even bother. "Don't you want your grandchildren or great grandchildren to know the kind of man you were?"

Not particularly, Father, and doubtful there will be future generations of little Snapes terrorizing Hogwart's. I've just turned traitor against one of the most powerful wizards there has ever been.

On the plus side, though, I have instead allied myself with another powerful wizard, who may be more powerful than the other.

Either way, Albus Dumbledore cannot protect me forever against Lord Voldemort.

I'll bet those stupid Marauders from school would be shocked if they knew where Severus Snape is now. James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black. God, I hate them all, but I hate Black the most. He's supposed to be this goody-two-shoes, wonder wizard but he's got a malicious streak in him. And I know Lupin's dirty little secret. That was Black's fault too. Lupin, how appropriate. Lupin, the werewolf. Black was going to let Lupin bite me, change me into a werewolf.

Know this, Journal, and keep this for your bleedin' prosperity. I may not like James Potter but I owe him. I owe him for the rest of my life for saving me from that horrible fate. Lupin, of course, was horrified at what almost happened. Black didn't seem concerned. Oh, he was properly remorseful when Headmaster Dumbledore confronted him, but I knew he wasn't really. He hates me as much as I hate him.

I digress. Get used to it. This journal is for one purpose, to rant and rave and get it all out.

The reason, though, I bring up Potter, Lupin, Black and Pettigrew is rumor says that Potter went one step too far in his dealings. Voldemort is now after Potter. I've also heard that Potter and his wife, Lily, have a son. Not good. When I heard that Voldemort wanted Potter, that was it. I had to defect.

Dumbledore understood. Dumbledore always understands. I don't know how he does it, but he does and for that I'm grateful. Not many would give a professed Death Eater anything but a wide berth. He may be old, but he's canny and wise. Voldemort doesn't stand a chance against Dumbledore. I think I'm finally on the right side.

New Entry, August 4:

It's happened. Voldemort went after the Potters. Dumbledore was in a temporary rage. Seems both James and Lily were killed. Their son, though, miraculously escaped. Dumbledore spirited the child away to somewhere safe. Don't know where, and don't really care. No one is sure how the baby survived but the question remains: does it really matter? Voldemort is defeated. Dumbledore is skeptical about the idea that Voldemort is dead, and so am I. Voldemort took pains to make himself as immortal as possible. It's seductive, the lure of immortality, but after watching Voldemort put himself through horrible tortures and charms to achieve it, I'll just die instead, thank you.

They say that Sirius Black was the traitor who turned in the Potters. I almost believe it. Almost. I may hate Black and he me, but he adored Lily Potter (Mudblood though she is) and would have taken James' place in Voldemort's line of fire. Black was caught by Peter Pettigrew, worthless git, and blasted around a Muggle street, taking out a few Muggles while trying to take out Pettigrew. He succeeded but only seconds before the Aurors showed up. Three Marauders down, one to go. Better lay low, Lupin.

Dumbledore is beside himself with grief. He thought the world of Black, can't imagine Black doing such a thing. He, however, knew that Black was baby Potter's Keeper, said only Black knew how to access the Potters. Dumbledore would know, so I trust his judgment. It still doesn't seem right, but Azkaban is too good for someone who would willingly turn another classmate into a werewolf.

Rot there, Sirius Black. Just rot.

Next entry, July 31:

So I'm not the world's best at keeping this stupid thing up to date. Dumbledore has asked me to be the new Potions professor at Hogwart's. I must admit I'm flattered, though I'd rather have the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Who could teach it better than a former Death Eater? Dumbledore feels that I would be better at Potions, said I was a natural. If he insists. It's better than listening to my gaggle of sisters moan on and on about how unfair their lives are now that their husbands got themselves killed by Aurors or locked in Azkaban. Why can't I be an only child?

I head to the school for the new term tomorrow. I must admit to being rather excited. Hogwart's was home more than my parent's house ever was. At least at Hogwart's I have some freedom from overbearing, crotchety, repressive old men and whiny women. Well, maybe not whiny, Trelawney is probably still teaching Divinations.

New Entry, December 11:

I swear there is a Weasley for every day of the week! Charlie Weasley insisted on blowing up half the classroom with a Genesis potion today. He was supposed to be rejuvenating a dead mouse, but instead blew up the classroom. He's hopeless but better than his brother Bill. He had his lab partner, Hal Nelson, drink some concoction that turned his hair blue and made his fingers webbed. A mix of gillyweed and something. Took me two hours (listening to Madame Pompfrey caterwaul) to finally get the right mix for an antidote.

They tell me the next Weasley boy starts next year, then two years after are a set of twins, then two years after that is another boy, and then lastly another girl the year after him. Disaster. Stupid people shouldn't breed and neither should a Weasley.

On a happier note (this would be sarcasm, Journal), Lucius Malfoy sent me a nasty little owl yesterday, making all sorts of vile threats to my person. I wondered how long it would take the denser of the Death Eaters to realize I turned traitor. Malfoy isn't one of the brighter members of the old dark lord's gang, but he is one of the more dangerous. I'd best keep my wits about me.

New Entry, April 29:

The Defense Against The Dark Arts professor, Michael O'Killough, has decided that he doesn't want to be the head for Slytherin House anymore. Dumbledore nominated me. I don't know who was more surprised, Professor McGonagall or me. She's been a bit friendlier to me since I accepted the post as Potions professor. She's a stouthearted, hand to the grindstone witch and she's sharp as a tack too. Hard to pull one over on her. I accepted Dumbledore's nomination. My first task is to find someone in the house that can actually play Quidditch. Disgraceful! The team the house has now couldn't play if it were a cardboard Muggle game on a tabletop.

The beaters are good but the Seeker has to go. We're being defeated by Hufflepuff, the pansies. This cannot continue.

New Entry, July 15:

Went to Diagon Alley, stopped at Gringott's, ran into my sisters, endured their caterwauling for twenty minutes for niceties sake, walked away in the middle of it, stopped at the potions shop to pick up supplies. Seems newt and salamander gets the same effect in potions. Didn't know that...some new information someone discovered. Have to remember that. Doesn't carry the same punch though..."Eye of newt, hair of dog," or some such rubbish.

Feels good to be out in the open again, not cooped up at Hogwart's. I enjoy my time at Hogwart's (who would've thought teaching someone else's brats could be so enlightening?) but I miss contact with other wizards and witches off school grounds and away from Hogsmeade. It would appear, though, I don't have many friends left. They are either disgusted with me for turning against Voldemort, in Azkaban, or dead. Very few people did more than nod at me when I passed them by.

I picked up some more robes and got a hair cut the old-fashioned way. Dumbledore suggested that I pick up something called blue jeans and he wants some Muggle candy called lemon drops. I found both. As much as I hate to say it, these jean trousers are actually comfortable. They will have to be an outside-the-school wear. It isn't appropriate on school grounds for professors to my way of thinking. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned.

A new semester starts in a couple of weeks and Dumbledore tells me that this year is going to be special. I'll take his word for it. Just another school year to me. He says that we're to have a special student. Another pet Muggle brat, no doubt, but some of our more powerful wizards came from Muggle parents (see Voldemort).

New Entry, September 8:

POTTER! POTTER! POTTER! POTTER! POTTER! I'M SO SICK OF HARRY POTTER!

He's as infuriating as his father was and he's only been here a few weeks! He looks around as if stunned at his surroundings! Doesn't know even the most rudimentary material! Everyone crowds around him like he's something special! And that damned scar...almost as fascinating as he is, you'd think! The girls goggle at him, the boys chum up to him when they get the nerve, the other teachers fawn on him. I'm not, I won't, I refuse! He's just another student and a mediocre one at that. None of his father's talent coursing through those veins.

Gods, but he looks just like James Potter. His mother's eyes though...Lily's beautiful green eyes. I hope Black knows the boy's alive and well...hope he's writhing in piteous agony because he failed killing the last Potter.

Dumbledore was right, this year is going to be special...especially miserable, he meant.

That boy is just like his father, pure trouble.

But I owe you, James, and your son is in trouble that's not of his own doing. I owe you and since I can't pay you back, it'll be a debt to your son. I'll be hanged, though, if I give him the satisfaction of knowing I owe you squat! I'll help the brat, but that's it. Don't ask for more than that.