"Chapter One: The Beginning"
A/N: This is a novel-length version of my one-shot "Nature of the Damned", since in a review it was commented that it could be a longer story. It struck my fancy one day to just write the first chapters of what became this.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The inspiration for this story comes from (and I hope I list them all) Animorphs by K.A. Applegate, the Star Trek episode "That Which Survives", The Host be Stephanie Meyers, and War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells.
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"Without the body the brain would, of course, become a mere selfish intelligence, without any of the emotional substratum of the human being."
~H.G. Wells, the War of the Worlds, Ch. 18
It was the start of yet another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it was days like these that made Severus Snape wonder why he even taught children. Fighting a pounding headache starting on the bridge of his nose and extending through his eyes and ears, he was still struggling to complete a list of things he had yet to do before the school year started. He had only three days before the brats would return and they would be as loud and idiotic as always, just as stupid brewing potions as they had been the year before, although it was fun to frighten the first years out of their wits.
But not even the thought of terrifying first years was enough to raise his spirits. It was very clear that today, Snape was in a most black mood.
Not that a pun was being made, mind you.
Not one to his face, anyway.
No, no one was brave or stupid enough to even approach the potions master today, because said man was likely to poison the first person attempting to draw him into conversation.
Growling under his breath, Snape leaned back in his comfortable armchair in his quarters, seeking refuge in the shadows of the room which soothed the pain pounding in his head. Not even potions had lessened his headache much. He had overdone himself, he should have taken breaks from his potions-making; he knew as well as the next potions expert that breathing the fumes from their cauldrons caused light-headedness and aches if breathed in too long. But he had so much to do! He couldn't just sit here, not with only three days before the start of term!
Calm yourself, Severus, an inner voice whispered to him. It sounded remarkably like Albus's, and he groaned to himself. Could he not have a break?
The sound of someone knocking on the door caused him to snarl under his breath, cursing his luck- or rather the lack of it- before he stood and walked over to let the guest inside. It was Albus who stood there, almost as if Snape's inner voice had summoned him.
"Severus," the Headmaster greeted him, smiling as he stepped in. "How are you today, my boy?"
"Perfect," Snape growled through clenched teeth. "I have a pounding headache, and I haven't finished the potions I have been preparing."
He could see Albus's eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, and he knew what the old warlock was going to say before he said it. "Now Severus, my boy," he said cheerfully, "surely this is no reason to secret yourself down here alone—"
"I will do what I deem necessary!" Snape replied sharply, in no mood to be coddled by Albus Dumbledore. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling it throbbing in his sudden upsurge of anger, and grit his teeth, willing himself to calm. Finally, feeling the sharp pain pass a little, he looked back up at the Headmaster. "You know these potions must be finished, Albus, if not for the classes then for the Order. I simply do not have time to sit around and do nothing!"
"Everyone must rest, Severus," Albus answered, and his piercing blue eyes were gazing at Snape in the way they did when he was not so cheerful. He was being completely serious. "Why, even the Lord rested after six days. Although I do find it heart-warming to see all you are doing for your fellow Order members—"
"I do not do this for them!" Snape exclaimed, irritated by the way Albus assumed things. And Snape was right. He did not join the Order of the Phoenix to help the other members with their problems. He joined to bring down Voldemort- in any way possible. "You know why I do this, and it is not for a group of wizards and witches who do not fully understand the magnitude of the enemy's evil!"
As a spy in the Dark Lord's ranks, Snape thought he was justified stating this. He had seen—had done things—not even the most imaginative of them could understand.
But Albus was looking at him in an understanding way. "I know how the thought of the year is affecting you, especially with how you feel about seeing the boy, but you must understand—"
"It has nothing to do about Potter," Snape lied coldly, and he knew it was a lie. A blatant one. He hated the beginning of a new school year since he would have to look at her eyes in his face. That was what hurt Snape the most. And he hated what made him hurt.
Albus sighed, as if knowing the direction of Snape's thoughts- which of course he did. He knew very well the fierce animosity Snape felt towards Harry Potter, and it didn't seem likely to abate. Indeed, it seemed to grow yearly, and it was sad to know that Harry hated Snape as much as Snape hated him. Last year showed that as clearly as if it were written.
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The day of the opening feast came much too soon, so much so that Snape felt a little lost. He hated the feeling, and therefore it made him more short-tempered. When it was announced that the children had arrived via carriages, he most reluctantly dragged himself up to the Great Hall, where it was decorated lavishly with the House colors. He ignored Albus's greeting, and Minerva's scowl at his manners, and brushed past them to seat himself at the Head Table. The other professors mingled amongst themselves for a few more minutes, and then they seated themselves with Severus in their places while Minerva, as per her job, went out to greet the coming first years.
It was the older students who came in first. Severus watched his Slytherins come in with satisfaction. They were quiet and controlled, merely inclining their heads in greeting as the rest of the students laughed and talked loudly like immature children.
But there was one missing. Snape frowned to himself when he realized that Draco Malfoy was not with them. Concerned slightly, he was just preparing to get up when Argus filch, the caretaker, came in through the hall and approached Snape himself. His gleeful smile told Snape that a student had been caught doing something, and looking at the Gryffindor table, Snape saw that Potter also wasn't there. Putting two and two together, Snape growled to himself. When Filch told him two students were waiting for him in his office, he merely stood and swept out of the Great Hall.
Approaching his office, he opened the door to find both Draco and Potter standing there, on opposite sides of the room. Draco was leaning against his desk, holding a piece of cloth to his clearly-bleeding nose, while Potter glared hatefully at him as he leaned against the wall.
"What is the meaning of this?" Snape hissed, too irritated to keep up with being kind even to his Slytherin. "Filch tells me you've been dueling, in the hallway!"
"He attacked me," Potter said from the wall.
"Quiet!" Snape snarled at him, and turned to Draco, who looked at him through slightly-dazed eyes. "Draco, what did he do to you?"
"He… he came up behind me, sir," the boy answered, his voice thick through the cloth and the bleeding. "I barely managed to get out of the way of his first spell, the second hit me in the face."
Snape turned to Potter, who looked completely unharmed. "So you attacked Draco without warning," he said, furious. "Tell me, Potter, whose behavior does that seem like?"
The hit on the Marauders and Potter's father caused the boy to flinch slightly, but he very quickly rallied and glared right back at Snape, his gaze hot with indignation. "I did not attack him, sir," he said quietly, but his voice was shaking slightly with anger he was trying to suppress. "He attacked me."
"A likely story," Snape sneered, "but it does not make sense for Draco to be the one bleeding if he attacked you."
"Maybe he wasn't good enough," Potter shot back, losing his hold on his temper.
"Not good enough!" Draco snarled, his eyes flashing furiously. "You—"
"Draco!" Snape exclaimed, stopping his student from walking forward. "Why do you let him bait you? Do you not remember that we are above such actions? Or are you yet still a child?"
Then something strange happened. It only lasted a second, less than that, but for that split instant it seemed to Snape that instead of looking immediately at the potions master, Draco instead turned to Potter, as if asking something, and Snape swore he saw Potter nod a little, as if urging him on—
But then the moment was over, and Snape was instead facing Draco, who was resentfully agreeing to Snape's words, and Potter, who was still glaring at them both.
Snape nearly groaned. This was going to be a very long term.
A/N: Anyone want to guess what happened to Draco?
