Absolution Never Comes
The wind howled and raged around Severus. Tears blurred the trees around him as he thrashed forwards, and over and over his voice called out: "Dumbledore!"
His cries were whipped away into the howling dark. Desperate, frantic, he called out again, and again, and knew that all hope was lost.
Part One: Boy
Chapter One
He said goodbye to his mother and father outside the station. The last thing his mother said to him was to be careful of the muggles as he walked through the barrier. He acknowledged the warning, then his father drove off.
It was what he had expected.
The battered leather suitcase rattled along the paving stones behind him, the letter with the platform number on it clutched in his free hand. Platform 9¾. Right behind this pillar. He held his breath, suddenly nervous and excited, and ignored his mother's advice as he charged into what seemed to be solid brick.
The scarlet steam engine dominated the scene, shiny and bright; the low roar of a hundred voices filled his ears. He felt the charge of emotion that comes with any parting place – a mother weeping into a hug, a father placing a gruff hand on his son's shoulder. Dozens of energetic kids, rushing away from their parents to trade summer stories with friends.
But much more exciting than that was the magic he could taste on the air. People all around him were brandishing wands and tripping over owl cages, wearing wizard hats and levitating trunks. He could even see a few students already in their uniforms. He had always known this place was out there somewhere, but the vividity of its reality was beyond... anything. It was impossible to believe that he had spent his entire life so far in Spinner's End, a wizard in muggle's clothes, with this whole world waiting for him. Monochrome to technicolour.
He cast his eye about for Lily, but her flame of hair was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was already on the train... Surrounded by families saying their last fond farewells, he felt suddenly alone, and very visible. As though someone might realise he didn't belong. He decided to board early.
Hauling the suitcase into the carriage was a struggle, but he managed it. Now, which way to head down the train. Which way was the back?
"Hey, you're a firstie too, right?" announced a voice behind him.
He turned and found he was blocking the way for a boy with an open smile and a sweep of long black hair.
"Uh, yeah," said Severus, pulling the suitcase to one side so that the boy could pass. But he carried on talking.
"My name's Black. What's yours?"
The boy had no suitcase to be seen – presumably he had already put it in a compartment somewhere.
"Severus. Severus... Snape."
"Ooh, I don't know that name. Not an old family, then?" asked the boy, starting to move down the train. Severus followed him.
"My mother's a pure-blood," said Severus.
"Oh cool. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those maniacs about blood purity or whatever. Just asking. Though I'm sure my mother'd have a heart attack if she knew I'd already started 'consorting with half-bloods', or whatever. Ridiculous old bag." Black had stopped outside a compartment, and Severus made to move further down the train.
"Don't be silly, come sit with us." And he took Severus by the elbow and pulled him in. The room was empty, but two suitcases lay on the luggage rack. Severus set his beside them and sat down, unsure of what to say.
"I was really happy to get my wand," started Black out of nowhere. "'Course I've been in Diagon Alley before, but never Ollivander's. Though I hate to admit it, I didn't half find him creepy!" Black pulled a length of wood from his jeans' pocket and shook it hard. "Doesn't do much yet. But I suppose that's why we're going to school, eh? Have you managed to do any magic yet?"
"Sometimes, I make objects move... but that's without meaning to." He didn't feel the need to mention any of the objects he had made move. They had generally been flying towards his head at high speed. Severus dragged the pads of his fingers down the wand in his own pocket, feeling the fine grain of the wood. That visit to Diagon Alley had been the first time he had ever been in a magical place. An all-wizard place. Ollivander's had smelt like beeswax and promises. His father hadn't gone.
"That's nothing!" cried a new boy as he entered the compartment, "I was barely five before I was changing the colours of my toys, levitating when I tripped, the works. My parents never had any doubt about me," he added, perhaps a little smugly.
This new boy was addressing Black – clearly this was the owner of the second suitcase. But then he paused and turned to Severus, holding out his hand. "I'm James Potter, by the way." Severus returned the gesture a little limply before Potter turned back to Black and began an amusing anecdote about a toy broomstick.
Their conversation continued a little in this vein, each of Potter and Black telling stories of their underage magical antics while Severus listened. Then a trolley arrived, dripping with chocolates, sweets and treats of every kind. The fact that Severus had no money was somehow overlooked, and he ended up with a pumpkin pasty and a pair of chocolate frogs. The conservation lapsed as they munched, until Potter said suddenly to Black:
"Say, what house do you think you'd be in?"
Black considered this a moment before saying with a slightly disgusted look on his face; "Well, my whole family have been in Slytherin, bu-"
"No!" gasped Potter, "And you seemed like an alright guy. I would never've pegged you for a snake! My family have all been in Gryffindor. At least ten generations."
"My mother was in Slytherin," murmured Severus. The two boys' eyes swivelled towards him and he fought to keep down a blush.
"Well – she was."
Black clapped him on the back. "Well, I won't hold that against you! Because, as I had been about to say before I was so rudely interrupted, I don't like the sound of Slytherin at all. Growing up in a whole clan of them, they're just a bunch of bloodline-obsessed, slimy, conniving little... Well, I suppose it could just be my family. I can hardly believe I'm related to them sometimes, you know. I mean, look at me. I'm clearly much too dashing and brilliant to be put in with that lot. No, I was thinking of going against family tradition and disappointing the hell out of my dear old mum. She'll be livid."
Potter laughed. "The lot of us for Gryffindor, then! You can join onto my family tradition instead. I'm an only child, there's plenty of room."
"You know, I'm not sure I'd want to be related to you," said Black. "Are the rest of your family all so ugly?"
And then they were all laughing – young and lighthearted. Like old friends. It was suddenly easy – to imagine laughing like this. On and on.
The rest of the train ride passed quickly amongst the chatting and joking. Black and Potter were quite loud and they talked about things that Severus didn't know about, but he found that he didn't mind so very much. As night began to fall they each changed into their robes. Black and Potter's were clearly new. Severus only hoped that his own tatty hems wouldn't show too much in the dark. He would have to learn a spell to fix them.
The train arrived at Hogsmeade and they pushed onto the crowded platform. Most of the students were moving off in groups towards carriages, but a gruff voice was calling out: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Severus followed the direction of the cry, but was somehow separated from Black and Potter in the darkness and rush. He found himself pushed into a boat opposite a clearly terrified boy with curly hair and, next to him –
Lily. And her green eyes that shone in the night.
The boats were small but sturdy and Severus found that he felt quite safe, and much too excited to feel the cold. They slid over the surface of the water and it was rough and windy, but the sky was lit with stars and Lily's eyes. "I can't believe we're finally here," she said as Hogwarts came into view. Severus didn't have the breath to agree.
The castle was magnificent – each of its turrets framed against the sky like daggers to heaven. It seemed to have hundreds of windows. The number of rooms – of treasures and secrets it must contain. Severus thought of the books he had read as a child of fantasy worlds and magical places, and found that they hardly compared to the real thing. He looked down at the surface of the lake and felt a twist of anger in his gut that this had all been denied him for so long. That he had been raised as a muggle, in that muggle house, on that muggle street... But then he raised his eyes to the lit windows again and felt a greater calm pass over him.
It's real. For us.
They were ushered from the lakeside into an entrance hall – all of them small and eager, illuminated by flaming torches on all sides. A tall woman who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall told them to wait until they were ready to be sorted. She left, and they waited.
Severus and Lily found themselves next to Potter and Black again. They appeared to have found two new boys on their boat. One, a thin, brown-haired boy who looked about as nervous as Severus was beginning to feel, and a short, slightly chubby boy who was visibly sweating with anticipation. Or perhaps he had been splashed by the lake, it was difficult to tell.
Potter and Black were talking loudly – not so loudly as before, but Severus now found it bothersome. Didn't they realise how important this moment was?
My mother was in Slytherin.
He'd never put much thought to the idea of being Sorted. Finally arriving at Hogwarts had been too large an idea to think beyond. If he had thought anything at all, it might have been a vague assumption that he would be in Slytherin. But his mother had talked so little about magic and her own schooldays that he hardly knew what to think. And the looks on Potter and Black's faces when they had mentioned Slytherin... The idea of being Sorted was starting to make him feel sick. Lily said something to him – some curious, innocent thought, but Severus couldn't focus.
Too soon the tall woman came back and they were being led into the Great Hall. Four table's worth of students turned to look at them and Severus stared reflexively at the floor, totally unaware of the the spectacular enchanted ceiling above him.
A hat was there, at the top of the hall. On a stool. It began to sing.
Severus heard the four houses described, each with their virtues celebrated as equally worthy. He wondered how that could be, when they were all so different. But more troubling, he just couldn't see where he belonged. He wasn't brave, or cunning. Perhaps Ravenclaw? But being good at muggle schoolwork might not mean anything here. Perhaps he would be terrible at magic. Hufflepuff, then?
The hat's song came to an end and he applauded with leaden hands. The first person was called up – Abigail Antworthy. She put the hat on, and after a moment it bellowed RAVENCLAW. One of the tables seemed delighted – yelling and beckoning and stamping their feet.
Black was next. The call of "GRYFFINDOR!" across the room created another tidal wave of cheers. He went to sit down with his house, giving Potter a double thumbs-up as he went.
A few more people, then Lily. Gryffindor, almost instantly. Of course. The brown-haired boy. The chubby boy. Potter. All Gryffindors. His name was called. Snape, Severus.
Three tottery steps up to the stool. Hundreds of people in the hall.
The hat fell over his eyes and the darkness of its inside was calming. The hum of voices from the Hall was muted and this, too, was calming. He almost didn't want to take it off and be confronted with all those eyes – all of whom would soon know who he truly was.
His hands gripped the sides of the stool. His mind went blank.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The hat was removed and the table on the right of the Hall was whooping and cheering. A tall blonde boy with a gleaming Prefect badge smiled at him benevolently.
He was practically pushed towards his new table to make way for the next child to be Sorted. He stumbled as he went and, almost involuntarily, turned to look at the Gryffindor table.
Potter was looking at him with an expression of puzzlement which, even as Severus watched, turned to one of deepest loathing. Black's eyes were inscrutable. The two boys whose names he did not know looked at him openly, almost curious, and yet not quite. There was a wall there. They knew.
He turned, as a last hope, to look at Lily. Her green eyes glittered with nothing but pity.
He sat down and turned his eyes to the empty plate before him. The light of a thousand candles shone in its golden surface while a dozen hands clapped him on the back.