SNAPE'S POOKIE HOBBY
Everyone in at Hogwarts knew one thing about Professor Snape: he was scary. Very scary. His robes floated like dementors, his voice could freeze milk, and one look from him could make a student regret being born.
But what nobody knew was his big secret…
Professor Snape loved knitting.
Late at night, when the dungeons were quiet and no students were around, Snape sat by the fire with balls of colorful yarn. He knitted scarves, hats, and sweaters while listening to the crackling flames.
Knitting helped him relax after long days of failed potions and foolish students.
Of course, being Snape, he couldn’t knit normal sweaters.
He enchanted them.
“This will keep the wearer warm,” he muttered while knitting furiously, “and maybe… teach them a lesson.”
Soon, a whole pile of magical sweaters sat on his desk, glowing softly and humming with strange magic.
The next morning, chaos began.
Neville Longbottom was walking through the corridor when he spotted a red-and-green sweater lying on a bench. It looked cozy and harmless.
“Oh… free sweater,” Neville said happily.
The moment he put it on, the sweater grew huge. Really huge. The sleeves dragged on the floor, the collar swallowed his head, and the sweater bounced as he walked
Neville waddled down the hallway like a walking marshmallow.
Students burst out laughing. One Ravenclaw dropped her books. A Hufflepuff fell over laughing. Neville tried to wave, but the sleeve slapped a wall instead.
Then came Hermione.
She found a soft lavender sweater with a small tag that read: For Brilliant Minds Only. Naturally, she wore it.
At first, it felt warm and nice. Then the sleeves began to glow.
Suddenly, glowing equations and formulas started writing themselves all over her arms.
“HEY!” Hermione shouted. “I already KNOW this!”
She tried to pull the sweater off, but it hugged her tighter, like it was proud of her intelligence.
Ron, watching all this, laughed loudly.
“I’ve got to try this,” he said.
He picked up a bright blue sweater and pulled it on. Nothing happened… until he laughed again.
The sweater sneezed.
Tiny fire sparks shot out of the sleeves.
Ron yelped.
The students screamed. Benches caught fire for two seconds and then politely put themselves out. Every time Ron laughed, the sweater sneezed again.
The Great Hall turned into a total mess.
Students bounced. Sweaters glowed. Fire sparks flew. Someone’s sweater started singing the Hogwarts song backward.
Even Professor McGonagall couldn’t escape.
She tried to pull a green-and-silver sweater off a Slytherin student—and the sweater grabbed her back. It lifted her into the air like a balloon.
“MR. SNAPE,” she shouted calmly, while floating, “CARE TO EXPLAIN?”
Snape stood frozen. His secret was out. Sweaters bounced past him. One slapped his face. Another tried to crawl up his leg.
“This is misunderstanding,” he snapped, while a pink sweater wrapped around his arm.
Finally, Snape waved his wand and stopped the magic. The sweaters fell to the floor, pretending to be normal.
The students groaned in disappointment.
Snape rushed back to his dungeon, muttering angrily about “cursed wool” and “ungrateful children.”
But later that night, he sat down again with his yarn.
And he smiled.
Hogwarts had never laughed so much.
And deep down… Snape thought his sweaters were kind of adorable.
