Prologue: Mother

"Mum! Mum!," he cried as he sped through the corridors of the hospital, barely avoiding collisions with anyone in the decrepit hallway, but a slight unintentional jostle here and there was inevitable. His legs kept on moving, while his left hand held tightly onto a letter and his right hand swung hard by his side providing additional momentum. The letter's seal was already broken.

Maybe there were chiding frowns and scolding words, but none of these, these external things, mattered at this moment. Everything was reduced to an unrecognizable blur that flew across his eyes, although he could see distinctively in his memory how the path stretched itself into a wall, then a turn, then kept stretching, a turn, up, turn, up, turn, stretching... He could hear too the mix of mutters and jabbers and chatters, but everything was reduced to the thud of heartbeats, the panting of breathes, and the thumping of footsteps ringing so deafeningly in his ears. These sensations were outdone, however, by the waves of insuppressible excitement that were at the point of bursting out of his chest. Nothing else was important and at this thought his grip on the letter tightened. It was the center of his universe, the light of his future. Nothing could hinder him; he ignored the twinges of pain shooting up his legs with each step from overuse and he could overpower the overwhelming fatigue that threatened to allow his body to collapse at any moment because he could taste a new beginning that was written on this letter.

He willed his body to continue moving until he reached his destination – a particular room in the psychiatric section, and only then did he stop to place his hands against the closed door, shifting his weight onto it, and giving himself some support to hold up his drained body. There was a name plate nailed next to the door frame. It was a cheap unfinished block of wood with black painted text on top. The inscription was so sloppy and washed out to the point of illegibility. Only a few letters "E- - - n S-ap- could be made out but he knew by heart that this was the room. His mother's room.

Still feeling completely worn out, he bent his right elbow and leaned his forearm against the cool wooden door to place his head onto his limb, wetting it with sweat that dripped continuously from his forehead. He stared down, swallowing in as much air as he could. He could see the rays of sunlight that had leaking through the trees outside, bypassing the rows of windows in the hallway, and hitting the lower part of the door and the floor below his feet, dancing like little angels rejoicing for the birth of his new life. This mere thought coursed his veins with newfound energy. He pushed himself upright and knocked. Without waiting for an answer he turned the knob, and pushed the door wide open.

"Mum, I got the letter!" he announced happily to the occupant inside as he walked in.

The room was surprisingly dim even though it was afternoon, with the only light source coming from the hallway. The standing figure of his mother in the shadow reassured him that he wasn't disturbing her sleep. Despite the fact that his mother had the habit of leaving the light on, in his fervor, he didn't realize the abnormality and continued.

"I've been accepted into Hogwarts… Do you remember Hogwarts?"

He paused for a moment to let his mother digest this piece of information. In these days his mother wasn't what she used to be. Most of the time, she didn't understand any of his words.

"They are awarding me with a scholarship. So, tuition won't be an issue. I'll work while in school. This way we can rent a place for you to live with me, and we can start anew there. We can be by ourselves now, in a new place, just you and me. We don't need father anymore." Bitter loathing arose from deep within when he mentioned his father, a man who abandoned him and his mother long ago but whose name was always on the lips of his mother during her half-crazed hysterias. For everyday she still believed that they were back in their old home, waiting for his father to return to give them a good beating whenever his drunken whim struck. But he kept his smile as he uttered those words because an education from the most reputable wizardry school in the country could lead to a well-paid job. With the money he will finally be able to afford a specialized doctor for his mother's condition or perhaps with a warm home his mother could get better in natural course. No matter what, this letter was a promising start for their new life.

But silence was the only response. Something was wrong. His mother could never contain herself whenever he paid visit. She would run to embrace him and start her endless hushed murmuring with instructions of the chores that needed to be done, of the normal behaviors in front of papa because they weren't freaks, and of the money they needed to be made today before papa returned so to not anger him. She would very reluctantly let him go when visiting hours were over, when he would hand her the money papa asked for, and would tell her it was time for him to leave for work. Then she would come forward, kiss him on both sides of the cheek and tell him what a good boy he was to make his papa proud. This routine would repeat the next day, and the day after, and the day after that, and over and over again, in an endless continuation. Why was it so quiet now? Why now? It never happened before! After reasoning with himself, he could feel a foreboding feeling appear and start crawling across his chest, biting, chewing, devouring. He started trembling all over. He swallowed. He heaved in and out to calm himself. Hesitantly, he raised his shaking hand for the switch blindly and flipped the light on.

His eyes widened in shock when he caught sight of the room. The scene that greeted him was different from those of his countless previous visits. The trauma was too great that his nerves fired up, and the firm grip on the letter loosened; he didn't even notice when that letter escaped his hand. It landed onto the marble floor, lying there, forgotten. The address was written with beautiful calligraphy in black ink to:

Mr. Severus Snape,

The sidewalk of Knockturn Alley

London, England

He opened his mouth, trying to form some sort of sounds, but his throat tightened and sound wouldn't come out. The smile he had was seized by the sudden blow and was deformed into an absolute horror. He kept staring at his mother, but his mother didn't turn to him. Her shoulders were down, with her hands limp on her sides, as if she had no energy to defy the force gravity; her head was tilted slightly downward, decorated with a loop made of white bed sheets around her neck. Her face was deathly pale with no trace of blood on her high prominent cheekbones. Her aristocratic forehead was marred with lines of wrinkles. Her crystal blue eyes were staring down onto the floor, and they were so wide-opened that they looked as if they could pop out of their sockets. Her mouth was slightly opened with the corners slightly curved upward as if portraying the unspoken happiness of her soul.

With her long curly blond hair and snow-white robe flowing down and both feet above air, her image from his position, was just like an angel.