Hi! This is my first posting here, so I hope the format etc. is well. I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it; this is just a fanfic. However, this is my plot; I thought it up myself. It also happens to be my first J/L fanfic, but hey, everyone has to start at some point. I hope that if you have read this fanfic, you leave some feedback.
A sad Christmas
Seven days before, his parents had murdered. He hadn't thought they'd be capable of doing it, but they'd done it and got away with it. It was all over the papers, also the muggle ones, because it was a peculiar murder: no trace of any violation had been found.
Now he was reading a book he got from his mother, which was called "Darkest Hours". It must have been bought in that bookshop in Knockturn Alley, because this book seemed very old and its intents were not the same as you'd find in other books: it was about the Dark Arts. To other students, he must have looked as if he was totally drawn into it, but he wasn't. Normally, he would be, but not today.
Today was Christmas and a fine one indeed. That stupid, arrogant man was off his back, to the funeral of his parents. He, however, was still at Hogwards and he hoped so was she. She, Evans, Lily Evans, the mudblood, the fiery girl with the beautiful hair, she, who had won his affection. But also, she, who had won HIS affection, he who was now attending the funeral of his parents.
People can design their own spells. Therefore, they have to have a good knowledge of Latin, for the incantations are – as far as we know – in Latin. If one wants to try out their charm, spell, incantation, they should do it on a spider or a mouse, for obvious safety reasons.
He wasn't really reading this, he tried to take it in, but he couldn't. Not today, and maybe also not tomorrow. He looked at his other presents, the ones he hadn't opened yet. There'd be something from his father he didn't love, or even like, and something from his friends; probably sweets or green-coloured ink. Who was interested in sweets anyway? Not him, surely not. Though, perhaps, only one sweet thing: that girl. Gryffindor girl, Lily Evans, whom he secretly liked.
He looked at his mother's present again. Really, he thought, who wouldn't know these?
In this world, there are yet three Unforgivable curses. The first, the Imperiatus curse, spoken as "Imperio", with which the person in quest could make the victim do anything at all. Also, ...
He hadn't tried that curse yet. He certainly didn't want to get caught in the act, but still, the temptation to try it was getting bigger and bigger.
Also, one should practise this spell lots. This is not a curse that should be taken lightly (the same goes with the other two Unforgivable curses). A couple of reasons why one doesn't exceed to control the mind of the victim:
a) This is because the attacker doesn't want to control enough.
b) This is because the attacker isn't strong enough to control the mind of the victim. The Imperius curse is one that can be fought back. However, the victim can't undo the curse so that the attacker is attacked – as we sometimes see with legilimency.
c) This is because of the distance: the space between attacker and victim is too large.
d) ...
He put the book away, changed, opened his other presents (surprisingly, a silver flask, from his dad, sweets and ink from his friends) and threw one in the bin. Everyone he knew had already sent him something, so this hd to be the annually "joke" from Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. He went up the stair to the Great Hall, which was decorated as it had been at the Ball: white, silver, show, Christmas trees, etc. except now there was one table for teachers and students to have breakfast at.
He wondered if Lily liked her present he'd got her. It was a book on her favourite subject, Charms. It was also one of the books no one was permitted to look into at Hogwards library, as it was in the forbidden section.
Then he wondered if she was at Hogwards. He hadn't seen her at breakfast.
"Hey Severus!"
"What, Lucius?"
"I heard Potter's parents are dead."
"Yes, what's it to you?"
"And that the funeral is today. The irony!"
"Surely. Care to share your joy with me?"
"That mudblood went with them, as did her friend Alice."
"Then Frank is there as well, I suppose?"
"Probably. Anyway, congratulations, you'll be in in no time."
"Good." he said. So Evans was attending Potter's funeral. Why though? She hated him since ever, or so it seemed.
Severus went back to the dungeons, where his dorms were, to sit by the fire and read in his new book. Of course he knew the Unforgivables, but he needed to master them to join the Dark Lord's ranks.
He read the book for hours, 'till he grew hungry, 'till it was dark outsied. He had forgotten his lunch. Therefore, he went up to the Great Hall for dinner. Other people were there already, including Lucius and Narcissa, but also including some of the teachers, such as professor Dumbledore, professor McGonagall, professor Flitwick, and, very unusual, Hagrid.
"Ah, welcome Severus." professor Dumbledore said, "take a seat and come sit with us. We were just discussing this most unfortunate Christmas..."
During dinner, which was as splendid as ever, but a tad sad, he overhear professor McGonagall talking softly to professor Flitwick about the Potters.
"... knows who did it."
"Yes, yes. It is sad. I can only imagine how distraught that boy is."
"They were nice people. He loves them real much. They even took in Sirius when he didn't want to live with his parents anymore..."
"Never walked out of a fight..."
"But James will be okay. He has his friends, not to speak of the girl."
"Everyone will be perplexed by that, though... I would be, if I hadn't seen it happening."
Severus fumed. What girl? Surely not...? He'd find out.
With that in mind, he left dinner and walked straight to one of the secret passages. He knew the caretaker knew about its existance, but at the moment he didn't care about that. In Hogmaede, he disapperated and some seconds later, he appeared in someplace called – what did the sign say? – Godric's Hollow.
It was a little village, Godric's Hollow. It would have been "cozy" if there wouldn't have been a funeral. One house stood out: no Christmas tree, no decorations, see-through curtains drawn, lights on. Using one of the spells he had read about that day, he listened to any converstations inside. Not much was said.
"I'm glad you all came." said the Potter boy in a somewhat shaky voice.
The door opened and five people left. After a while, the other people left as well and Severus knew the only persons in the house would now be young Potter, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew and Lily Evans.
"You remember that time we were late?"
"Yeah..."
"You remember what they said?"
"Yes, I remember, Padfoot!"
"What was it, Prongs?"
"Moony, they said we had to be more careful, that we could've hurt ourselves. That we could've been bitten."
"Huh?"
"It was full moon."
"Ooh... but,"
"Shut up, Wormtail!"
"So what happened after?" That was Lily's voice. Severus' heart raced.
"We had to be home before dinner and we weren't allowed to go out after... and no Quidditch for a week!"
"Yeah... well, they could be strict."
"I suppose you deserved it."
"Moony!"
"Anyway, I'm off to bed."
"Okay, goodnight."
"G'night."
"'Night."
Footsteps were heard on the staircase, going up. Severus didn't pay attention to the conversation in the front room anymore: Lily went upstairs as well.
"James, it wasn't your fault."
"I- I know." Lily flipped on the light. Severus could barely see what happened inside, but managed when he found the right tree. Lily had sat down on the bed.
"Come here. Shh..." Potter seemed to have difficulties with breathing.
"James... It's okay. Let it go." Potter sat down on the bed, too. Lily envelloped him and held him.
"And t- to think it's Ch- Christm-mas today..."
"I don't mind."
"I do..."
Severus saw them kissing. It connected in him. His heart broke and he disapperated soon after, appeared in Hogsmaede. In the Hog's Head he had a firewhisky before he went back through the not-so-secret passage.
Down and down the stairs to the dungeons his feet carried him. He'd forget. He'd forget it all.
He didn't answer Narcissa's questions; he didn't even hear them. He was asleep before his head thouched his pillow.
(END)