Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related isn't mine!
Spinning the medallion around Marcus couldn't help but marvel at the fact that an object so innocent looking could hold the key to the destruction of the Dark Lord Voldemort
Even thinking that name made shivers run up and down his spine. Normally he wouldn't be afraid to think or even speak the name out loud but now, at this point, he didn't want anything to jinx his mission. They said that if you even thought of his name he would appear.
That was in fact what some superstitious wizards and witches were thinking. Silly, he knew, but he would take whatever luck he was getting.
The medallion came to a stop and Marcus looked closely at the simple carvings on it. He took hit and held it in the palm of his hand. It was small and just silver but on the side over the top were two snakes engraved. 'Silver and snakes, they would be dead give away 's when someone would see it they could easily recognize it as a Slytherin medallion.' He thought while grabbing for his wand. Corvus in transfiguret(1) and slowly he saw the intricate snakes change into the black birds that were the trademark of Ravenclaw.
He put his wand back into his left sleeve but changed his mind and put it in his right. 'Can't forget that in Hogwarts now can I?' He thought amusingly. 'A left handed wizard putting his wand in his left sleeve is a bit awkward.'
Standing up he took a last stroll through his house as a ritual of remembrance. Not that there were any good memories to remember. Walking up the stairs in the typical suburban muggle house he contemplated what he was about to do. Heroism wasn't what he excelled at. He just preferred a good book to all kinds of sports and adventures. 'But,' he thought ironically, 'wasn't that what got him into this mess in the first place?'
Walking past all the empty rooms made him feel nostalgic. He pushed al those thoughts away and concentrated on what he wanted to do.
He wanted to make one last trip to the attic. Near the end of the hallway there stood a small ladder propped up against the wall. He took the ladder and placed it against the opposite wall. He looked at it and just had to smile. He could remember the day he wouldn't have even been able to reach the end of it with his hands. No matter where they moved. The small ladder always went with them. Now, at about 6 feet, the ladder seemed so small almost doll like. Climbing the ladder he touched the ceiling with his hands trying to find the small rope that should have been hanging there. But since the lighting wasn't that good it took him far longer than expected to find it.
Finally reaching it, he pulled it and the panel opened to the attic. Jumping from the small ladder he put it away quickly excitement washing over him, which was surprising since he never let anything get to him. He excused himself quickly thinking that it was only justified. He was about to go on a self-employed suicide mission and this was taking the first step. 'No,' he corrected himself, 'the first step was reading about that bloody potion in that book from Dad. The second step was actually finding the missing ingredient.' he thought patting the insides of his jacket and feeling the medallion.
Satisfied he pulled out the inbuilt staircase and steadily he climbed up. Thank god he didn't mind heights, unlike his parents. When he was younger he sometimes mused if maybe he wasn't the child of one of his mothers friends. The one that was such a daredevil. Too bad he couldn't remember his name.
Flicking on the light switch he pulled himself up en made him as small as possible since the ceiling was made for midgets it seemed. He smiled remembering his father saying the same to his mother when he told her that. His mother feeling very insulted replied that she wasn't short, she was just vertically impaired. His father used to laugh at that and she would as well. That was usually a normal sight in their household.
Looking around all the junk both his parents had accumulated in their life spans. He couldn't help but shake his head in amusement. Finally finding what he was looking for he walked with a less certain attitude than a few minutes ago. Shoving aside a huge suitcase he opened one of his mothers boxes with stuff from her beloved childhood. All this was shipped back to his grandparents, where he now was staying, after being in storage for a few years. He found the books he was searching for. "Hogwarts: A history volume 5", "The biggest potions discovery's of the last 20 years" his mothers and fathers yearbooks, and at last, their notebooks.
Sighing one last time he went back putting everything back to it's originally state and walked back to the place where he left his grandparents.
They looked at him with faces that knew they were never going to see him again and it made him feel guilty. He was robbing them of their only grandson. Guilt, another emotion that coursed through him. He hadn't felt this much since his last stroll down memory lane.
His self-imposed cold mentality would help him to be chosen in the house of his choice. He looked down at his trunks and shrunk them with a simple notion of his wand en put them into his pocket. The couple was seated at the kitchen table and Marcus put his robes that were hanging over one of the untaken chairs, on. He checked if anything was in place. Most of all his conformation letter, very important.
He went to his grandmother and she cried silently hugging him as hard as she could as if she was trying to imprint the feel of her body into his but mostly voice versa. His grandfather, a sturdy man who looked almost a giant next to his petite wife, embraced him and wept as well.
Freeing himself of the embrace he took a look at the nasty smelling concoction on the table. And knew he had to take it. He took the steaming glass in one hand, pinched his nose with the other and swallowed the whole in one time. He felt the effect immediately; his vision was a bit distorted but otherwise fine, but then excruciating pain. It felt as if all his bones were broken and then shoved together in make them smaller.
He looked up to find that everything was a bit different, but at first he couldn't put his finger on it. It then clicked, it worked. He looked at the mirror that was hanging across him. A thin almost gangly face was staring back at him. Eyes so dark they were almost black. Dark curls framed his head and made him look younger than he really was. Thank god the robes had shrunk with him, or he would have looked really scrawny. Annoyed that he would have to go through puberty for the second time he took a closer look at his face. 'Excellent,' he thought, almost with glee,' none of my features are recognizable.'
Saying goodbye for the last time he walked out of the door into the cab that was already waiting for 15 minutes. "Whereto young sir?" the cabdriver asked, looking in rear mirror seeing the entirely too serious young man. "To Kings Cross, London please." The cabdriver nodded in acceptance and ignited the car. Not taking looking back to his grandparents house Marcus Aurelius Snape brooded in silence..
A/n 1 corvus in transfiguret means freely translated: transfigure into a raven
Spinning the medallion around Marcus couldn't help but marvel at the fact that an object so innocent looking could hold the key to the destruction of the Dark Lord Voldemort
Even thinking that name made shivers run up and down his spine. Normally he wouldn't be afraid to think or even speak the name out loud but now, at this point, he didn't want anything to jinx his mission. They said that if you even thought of his name he would appear.
That was in fact what some superstitious wizards and witches were thinking. Silly, he knew, but he would take whatever luck he was getting.
The medallion came to a stop and Marcus looked closely at the simple carvings on it. He took hit and held it in the palm of his hand. It was small and just silver but on the side over the top were two snakes engraved. 'Silver and snakes, they would be dead give away 's when someone would see it they could easily recognize it as a Slytherin medallion.' He thought while grabbing for his wand. Corvus in transfiguret(1) and slowly he saw the intricate snakes change into the black birds that were the trademark of Ravenclaw.
He put his wand back into his left sleeve but changed his mind and put it in his right. 'Can't forget that in Hogwarts now can I?' He thought amusingly. 'A left handed wizard putting his wand in his left sleeve is a bit awkward.'
Standing up he took a last stroll through his house as a ritual of remembrance. Not that there were any good memories to remember. Walking up the stairs in the typical suburban muggle house he contemplated what he was about to do. Heroism wasn't what he excelled at. He just preferred a good book to all kinds of sports and adventures. 'But,' he thought ironically, 'wasn't that what got him into this mess in the first place?'
Walking past all the empty rooms made him feel nostalgic. He pushed al those thoughts away and concentrated on what he wanted to do.
He wanted to make one last trip to the attic. Near the end of the hallway there stood a small ladder propped up against the wall. He took the ladder and placed it against the opposite wall. He looked at it and just had to smile. He could remember the day he wouldn't have even been able to reach the end of it with his hands. No matter where they moved. The small ladder always went with them. Now, at about 6 feet, the ladder seemed so small almost doll like. Climbing the ladder he touched the ceiling with his hands trying to find the small rope that should have been hanging there. But since the lighting wasn't that good it took him far longer than expected to find it.
Finally reaching it, he pulled it and the panel opened to the attic. Jumping from the small ladder he put it away quickly excitement washing over him, which was surprising since he never let anything get to him. He excused himself quickly thinking that it was only justified. He was about to go on a self-employed suicide mission and this was taking the first step. 'No,' he corrected himself, 'the first step was reading about that bloody potion in that book from Dad. The second step was actually finding the missing ingredient.' he thought patting the insides of his jacket and feeling the medallion.
Satisfied he pulled out the inbuilt staircase and steadily he climbed up. Thank god he didn't mind heights, unlike his parents. When he was younger he sometimes mused if maybe he wasn't the child of one of his mothers friends. The one that was such a daredevil. Too bad he couldn't remember his name.
Flicking on the light switch he pulled himself up en made him as small as possible since the ceiling was made for midgets it seemed. He smiled remembering his father saying the same to his mother when he told her that. His mother feeling very insulted replied that she wasn't short, she was just vertically impaired. His father used to laugh at that and she would as well. That was usually a normal sight in their household.
Looking around all the junk both his parents had accumulated in their life spans. He couldn't help but shake his head in amusement. Finally finding what he was looking for he walked with a less certain attitude than a few minutes ago. Shoving aside a huge suitcase he opened one of his mothers boxes with stuff from her beloved childhood. All this was shipped back to his grandparents, where he now was staying, after being in storage for a few years. He found the books he was searching for. "Hogwarts: A history volume 5", "The biggest potions discovery's of the last 20 years" his mothers and fathers yearbooks, and at last, their notebooks.
Sighing one last time he went back putting everything back to it's originally state and walked back to the place where he left his grandparents.
They looked at him with faces that knew they were never going to see him again and it made him feel guilty. He was robbing them of their only grandson. Guilt, another emotion that coursed through him. He hadn't felt this much since his last stroll down memory lane.
His self-imposed cold mentality would help him to be chosen in the house of his choice. He looked down at his trunks and shrunk them with a simple notion of his wand en put them into his pocket. The couple was seated at the kitchen table and Marcus put his robes that were hanging over one of the untaken chairs, on. He checked if anything was in place. Most of all his conformation letter, very important.
He went to his grandmother and she cried silently hugging him as hard as she could as if she was trying to imprint the feel of her body into his but mostly voice versa. His grandfather, a sturdy man who looked almost a giant next to his petite wife, embraced him and wept as well.
Freeing himself of the embrace he took a look at the nasty smelling concoction on the table. And knew he had to take it. He took the steaming glass in one hand, pinched his nose with the other and swallowed the whole in one time. He felt the effect immediately; his vision was a bit distorted but otherwise fine, but then excruciating pain. It felt as if all his bones were broken and then shoved together in make them smaller.
He looked up to find that everything was a bit different, but at first he couldn't put his finger on it. It then clicked, it worked. He looked at the mirror that was hanging across him. A thin almost gangly face was staring back at him. Eyes so dark they were almost black. Dark curls framed his head and made him look younger than he really was. Thank god the robes had shrunk with him, or he would have looked really scrawny. Annoyed that he would have to go through puberty for the second time he took a closer look at his face. 'Excellent,' he thought, almost with glee,' none of my features are recognizable.'
Saying goodbye for the last time he walked out of the door into the cab that was already waiting for 15 minutes. "Whereto young sir?" the cabdriver asked, looking in rear mirror seeing the entirely too serious young man. "To Kings Cross, London please." The cabdriver nodded in acceptance and ignited the car. Not taking looking back to his grandparents house Marcus Aurelius Snape brooded in silence..
A/n 1 corvus in transfiguret means freely translated: transfigure into a raven