A/N: This story is my first in second person perspective so please let me know how I did. Also, it's not from the point-of-view of any known character, just some random muggle-born student that came to Hogwarts five years after Harry defeated Lord Voldemort as an infant. I chose Snape originally because I thought it would be funny, but it turned more serious than I thought. I'm not completely satisfied with the ending, but it works.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.
You were shocked when the large brown owl came swooping through your window and dropped a thick, yellow envelope on your lap. Your mother stopped in the process of turning over bacon, watching the owl with widened eyes, and your father dropped the newspaper he had been unfolding onto the plate of eggs in front of him. The bird swooped right back through the window, neither knowing nor caring about the confusion it left.
You picked up the envelope with trembling fingers, turning it over to see the seal pressed in black wax, an 'H' surrounded by four animals-a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle. The food had been forgotten, as both your parents were staring at the envelope in your hands, unsure of what to make of it. Deciding you had nothing to lose, you slid your finger under the flap and broke the seal.
A letter, multiple letters actually, fell out of the envelope, all made from the same thick yellow paper as the envelope, a paper you were beginning to suspect was parchment. Reading the first letter out loud, you weren't sure whether to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all or smile at the knowledge that you may be magical. Your parents still hadn't said anything, and now you looked at them, wondering what they thought. They both started talking at once, your father proclaiming it as nonsense and your mother trying to assure you that nothing was wrong with you and no one would take you away to some school.
Rolling your eyes (they don't understand that you aren't scared that it might be real, you're scared that it might not be real), you look at the letter again, noting where it says a list of supplies and a date for meeting a teacher has been included in the envelope.
You put aside the first letter and move to the half-sheet of paper (parchment?), wondering if this has the name of the teacher they mentioned earlier. And there it is: Severus Snape, Potions Master will come to your house on the 23rd of June (an exact week after your eleventh birthday, you note amused) to answer any questions you or your parents may have about magic or this Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You wonder what type of person this Professor Snape is, his name makes him sound like someone you do not want to mess with.
You tell your parents about the…wizard, you suppose…who is going to be coming to your house in two days time and they are again shocked into silence, though not for long. Your dad is demanding to know who these people are and why they think they can just invite themselves over to your house without asking first, while your mum is looking at you with dawning realization and you'd rather not dwell on what that means, so you turn to the last piece of parchment, which is most definitely a list of supplies.
Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1? What bookstore sells that? And where can someone get a cauldron or black robes and a pointed hat?
You hope Professor Snape will explain everything when he arrives in a couple days. Meanwhile, you turn back to your parents and ask your mum what she's thinking, as your dad clearly believes someone is pulling a joke on the family and is almost ready to call the police, but you convince him not to, that it's probably a joke, chances are nobody will come to the house (though you desperately hope that isn't true).
Your mother swallows, then tells you that once when you were a baby, she accidentally dropped you on your head (really, mum? Thanks for that.). Instead of slamming your head down on the pavement, you…bounced was the only word she could think of to describe what happened. You bounced and landed perfectly safe, not a scratch on you, not even crying. Also, she says, one time when you were three, you were trying to reach a book on a shelf. The book was a couple inches too high for you to reach, when you were suddenly floating three inches off the ground. You squealed, grabbed the book, then your mum, horrified, had grabbed you out of midair and held you to her. She had never mentioned these incidents to anyone, not even your dad, but maybe this whole magic thing wasn't as outrageous as someone might think.
After everyone has calmed down (and by everyone, you mean your dad), you have a family meeting and come to the conclusion that all you can do is wait and see if this Snape person shows up.
June 23rd arrives and both of your parents are a bundle of nerves. You, on the other hand, are excited, but trying not to get your hopes up. There is a good chance that the letter was a practical joke, maybe your cousin or someone was unhappy about their last Christmas gift. But, still, to be able to do magic, to meet witches and wizards and go on grand adventures, it's something any eleven year old would be excited about.
Someone knocks at the door and both of your parents freeze. You roll your eyes and go to answer it, a little nervous now, wondering if it is Severus Snape behind the painted red door.
You swing the door open and know in an instant who it is. Sallow skin and a hook nose enhance the severity of the cold black eyes now staring at you appraisingly. Long pale fingers with many calluses (from potions?) are a stark contrast to the black button up shirt and black dress pants and shoes the man is wearing. He stands tall, black greasy hair swept out of his face, the better to examine you. Anyone who sees this man on the street would immediately know he is a teacher, as his very presence demands respect and attention. Underneath it all, you feel something else, though. There's an aura about the man, something powerful and alluring, though your eleven year old self doesn't realize what that means, not yet. This man is Severus Snape.
You snap out of your staring, flushing from your lack of manners, and hurriedly introduce yourself. He does the same, and it's clear that you haven't made a good first impression, as his lip curls and his eyes are even more severe now, if that is possible.
You invite him inside and introduce him to your parents, who are still nervous but greet him politely enough. You bite your lip, knowing it would be rude to just start blurting out questions, but desperately wanting information. He turns away from your parents, eyes sweeping over your house, taking in every detail, before finally settling on you.
He seems to know your most pressing question without even asking and takes out a long black…stick? He flicks it, says something in Latin you don't understand, and right before your eyes, the living room table turns into a real live green snake. As you stare at the snake, not afraid as you've seen larger ones camping on family vacations, you feel Snape's eyes examining you, probing you for something, but you aren't sure what.
He turns the snake back into a table and turns to you, looking a little less severe. You get the feeling that you have just passed some sort of test, why he was testing you is anyone's guess. He then tells you some of the history of magic and Hogwarts and you grow more excited with each word, but the pessimist in you rears its ugly head, and as he finishes talking you have one question to ask.
"What's the catch?"
"Catch?" he repeats, eyes narrowing.
You explain that there is always a catch; magic cannot be so great that nothing bad ever happens with it or there aren't repercussions to using it.
His eyes dart to your parents for a moment, before coming back to land on you, and you have that feeling again, like's he probing your mind for something.
He seems to be debating with himself over what to say and you have a feeling that it's not because he doesn't want to tell you about the dark side of magic, it's like he's deciding which part of it to tell you about.
Finally, he seems to come to a decision, and his eyes bore into yours.
"Merely five years ago, a man named"-here he takes a deep breath, as though struggling with something "-Lord Voldemort, don't ask me to say it again, was trying to take over the Wizarding world." He gives a brief overview of what happened, mentioning that it's over, but not saying that Lord Voldemort is dead. He makes it a point to avoid using the man's name or giving a definite statement about what became of him. You get a chill up your spine, wondering how much this guarded, cold man standing in the middle of your living room was involved with the war, for it was indeed a war, even as Professor Snape avoids saying the word, probably for your parents' sakes as they are looking increasingly horrified.
He finishes, staring at you again, and you realize that this is the price of magic. Sure, the war may be over, but how many lives were lost and how many families were destroyed? You had read about the wars in your own nonmagical history-Muggle is what Snape called nonmagic people. Your own father was in the Falklands, still gets quiet whenever anyone even mentions the war.
The professor's reluctance over the fate of Lord Voldemort made you realize that it's not over. He, Snape that is, still believes there is another war coming and that Voldemort will one day return to Britain from wherever he is hiding. Snape is giving you the choice-stay out of the world and avoid exposure to the upcoming war or go to Hogwarts, learn magic, and maybe one day have to fight for your right to live. It's not a choice many would give an eleven year old, but you are not like other eleven year olds. Life has not given you the best lot in life. Yes, your parents love you and yes, you live in a stable home. However, no one knows about your babysitter from two years ago-Robert-who liked to take his anger out on you. He never raped you, thankfully, but your parents never knew how your arm got broken the day after Robert had failed a math test. You were too scared to tell anyone and felt too helpless and too weak. Your only saving grace was that Robert and his family moved away about six months after he started babysitting you.
Maybe Professor Snape sees the heaviness in your eyes, for he is treating you as an adult, giving you this choice and making sure you are informed before you make the decision. But you knew what you'd say, even before he asked. This Lord Voldemort guy hates Muggles and muggle-borns, according to Professor Snape. So no matter what you choose, he'd still hate you and want you dead for no good reason. At least with magic, you'll be able to defend yourself and fight back, something you couldn't do before.
In the back of your head, your mind is pleading with you to walk away, not accept the offer of a magical education, to take your parents and leave Britain, before something starts. But you don't. You look Professor Snape dead in the eye the day you officially enter into the magical world and you never regret it.
And twelve years later, as you run onto the grounds of Hogwarts with your wand at the ready, knowing that you might not survive the battle, you still hold no regrets for getting involved in this world. Magic has its price, but the cost does not outweigh the benefits.