Precise Ambition

By: Romney Lyre

DISCLAIMER: I, Romney C. Lyre, do not own Harry Potter. I am not making any type of profit from this fanfiction and this is only for entertainment purposes only.

Prologue

A loud "CRACK" was heard by many passing people, but none paid much attention to it. The drone of smoking cars and people shouting just absorbed the sound and was soon forgotten. It was a bustling, hot, and sunny summer day and many were desperate to escape the heat. Even though nobody thought anything of the loud crack sound, not one of them would have suspected that it was a woman who made that sound and that the very same woman was a witch.

A young woman with a mixed expression of fatigue and fear glanced at her trash filled surroundings. Her pale, long face had a frown etched onto it and her heavy brows were furrowed as she thought up a plan. She was still in her witch robes, which would make her stand out, but she had Apparated to a more industrial city with a larger population in order to hide herself better in the vast crowds. Quickly, she stepped out of the alleyway and moved into the crowd of Muggles. A few of them who were near her threw her disgusted glares, thinking that she was some kind of rebel youngster. She passed by them by pushing her way through the crowd; she had no time for Muggles who didn't approve of her attire. Her tired black eyes darted around and found their target, a clothes shop. With the same force she had used before, she pushed her way through the crowd, earning her more disgusted glares, but a few pitying looks as well.

She opened the door slowly, but was surprised by the bell that sounded. The witch thought it was a trap, but a young girl, no more than sixteen, hustled towards her with a smile.

"Hello, welcome, is there anything you need help with?" The young girl said in a rehearsed voice. She seemed overexcited to help the strange woman, the witch assumed it was her first job and she wanted to impress her superiors by hurrying towards customers.

The witch said slowly, "I'm looking for a change of clothes."

The young girl held up her smile, but the witch saw the girl's eyes observe her outfit with distaste. She grabbed the witch's arm and lead her to a rack filled with floral shirts and said, "I think that a more colorful shirt will contrast very well with your smooth, light skin!" The door to the shop opened again and a new customer walked in. The girl glanced from the witch to the new customer and said, "Well, there are some lovely skirts in the rack over there-" She pointed to the right side of the store. "-And if you need any help, feel free to ask me!" The young girl then left the witch and hustled toward the new customer.

The witch scuffled through the shirts, but she wasn't focus on what would look good with her skin, she needed something to help disguise her. She left the bright floral shirts and moved to a rack with more traditional and conservative clothes. She picked out three long sleeved shirts that were each black and moved onto the skirts where she chose three long skirts that were more suited for winter. As she went up to the cashier, the people in the shop looked at her questioningly. The woman had on robes and she was buying clothes for winter when it was so hot outside. Even the cashier looked at her with an odd look on her face that turned to surprise when the witch threw down the money and left, without asking for her change. The woman rushed into the public bathroom and changed into one of her outfits quickly since she loathed the smell. She walked out and made sure she still had her clothes that she had bought and a few other belongings she brought. She stopped and thought about whether or not to get rid of her robes, but she decided to keep them.

It was still afternoon. The witch decided to find some kind of place to stay for the time being, possibly leave the country as well. Her eyes never kept still, always darting around, as if they were trying to pin down something. She kept walking and was still walking even when she left the city and was in a quieter area. The houses were growing more and more abundant and each was brick houses. She decided to go down one of the streets that were a good distance away from the smoke-ridden city. She continued down the street and the quality of the houses slowly dwindled. She reached the end of the street where there was a lone house near a poor river that looked sick from all the pollution.

Her need for sleep took over her common sense and she entered the run down home, quickly opening the lock with a whispered spell. The interior was just as bad as the outside, it was dusty and everything was scattered around the small place. The witch didn't mind though because she found a soft couch and quickly sat upon it and rested her eyes.

Night had fallen upon the smoke covered community. The woman was sleeping until she was thrown on the cold, hard wooden floor.

"Who the hell are you?" yelled a deep male voice. The witch's eyes grew large and she quickly drew her wand out and stumbled upon her feet, keeping her eyes on the man. The man was taller than she was, but equally pale. His black hair was plastered to his face and his large hooked nose with sweat; he looked as though he had been doing hard manual work. His dark brown eyes were filled with an anger of finding a stranger taking his home, but also curiosity. He wanted to know why this woman had broken into his house; he proceeded to shout at her again, asking.

The woman still stood with her wand pointing at him and said lowly, "I just wanted a place to rest for a moment. If you move out of the way, I'll leave you in peace."

The man laughed scornfully. "You think that the little twig you're holding will stop me? You must be out of your mind."

Her eyes narrowed. She didn't know what to do, it was against the law to perform magic in front of a muggle, but then she remembered another wand she had taken rightfully from a duel. She threw down her wand and grabbed the other wand from her bag on the couch.

"Another twig?" The man said with a smile that ridiculed her, but he still kept his eyes on the woman.

The woman allowed herself a small, triumphant grin. "I'll say it again, just let me go and I'll leave you in peace."

The man's smile evaporated and he angrily said, "You think you have the power to tell me what to do? You are out of your mind, woman, if you think it's your place to tell a man what to do!"

Instead of telling him, the witch decided to give the muggle a demonstration. The ministry would send an owl to the wand's owner instead of her, so she was safe. With a flick of her wrist, she casted a nonverbal spell that turned the table in the corner into a butterfly that fluttered away. She turned from the butterfly to the man; his face was covered in surprise and wonder.

"H-how did you do that?" asked the man in a hushed whisper.

The witch quickly became more confident, the situation finally turned to her favor. "It's magic. So, move out of my way or I'll perform it on you next." Her voice began to rise with growing confidence.

The man stared at the woman without moving out of the way.

"Didn't you hear me, move or I'll hex you!" she shouted. Why wasn't the man moving? The witch was beginning to get scared, maybe the man was just putting on an act to be surprised and it was one of her relatives controlling the man with the Imperius Curse.

To the woman's surprised, the man lunged at her and pinned her down. He knocked the wand out of her hand and now her eyes were filled with complete fear. He had disarmed her and she was defenseless.

"Magic or not, you are just a woman. A weak one at that." he said. He had both of her skinny wrists in one of his large, callous hands and had both of her legs pinned down by his own. His free hand reached for the bag and pulled out her own wand. She was struggling very hard against him, but he was heavier than her skinny body. She kept yelling horrible things at him until he punched her face with the fist gripping her wand.

"Shut up, woman!" he yelled at her. Now she had stopped her struggling, her eyes began to water out of hopelessness. "Now," he said with a low voice, "your magic could come in handy. It'd be nice to have things just do it themselves." He waved her wand in her tear stricken face. "Now, stay with me and I won't snap your little magic twig in two."

The witch's eyes filled with hatred and anger towards the man. This muggle had the nerve to threaten her, a pure blood witch! He continued to wave her precious wand in front of her face, sneering as he did so. She didn't want him to snap her wand, if she wanted that she would've performed the magic with her own wand. Her wand was her only way of protection and without it she was no better than a pathetic muggle. With fear and hatred in her voice, she muttered a resentful "Fine".

The man's face broke out into a triumphant grin, as if he had one the biggest bet.

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A/N: In my mind, I took a more pessimistic view on Snape's childhood and how his parents got together.

Agree with me or not, reviews are welcomed from you lot!