Disclaimer: Alas, Severus Snape does not belong to me. Nor do his father or mother; the entire Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling. I do however, own Alana and Sardelle, and Alana's parents, but that's about it.
I am really really really enjoying writing this. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a Snape/Prince devotee, well, Severus has a cousin, a sister, nephew and niece...
enjoy :)
edited after HPB changing Alana from Snape to Prince.
The dark street was ablaze with color.
Shots of red, yellow, green and purple whizzed everywhere; the auror's long, sleek blade reflecting each color as it flew around her, protecting her from harsh physical contact with her faceless enemies. The cold steel bit sharply into anything it brushed and was very quickly stained in crimson while her wand felled those who were far out of reach. Her long blonde hair had started to escape from its tie and strands whipped around her head as she lunged and spun. Her long blue cloak lay discarded at the other end of the street, leaving her dressed in plain white robes now stained with red; just another casualty of today's battle.
A small part of her wondered just who she was fighting against, no doubt she probably knew a good few of them personally. A childhood friend? An old acquaintance? Or perhaps even ... her cousin? She knew so many that had turned, but now it didn't matter. To survive tonight, others had to die by her blade and her wand. The auror only hoped that it was no one that she would forever regret the loss of...
Alana Prince reclined lightly in a plush armchair looking out over her modest home in the Northern New England countryside. Despite so many ties in Europe, the middle aged woman had opted to retire to America - far from any family, any obligations, or any of her history; or rather, her family's history.
Back in Europe, she was one of them. A pureblood and member of a family known for supporting Voldemort. Yes, Voldemort. Not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, not You-Know-Who, and especially not even the Dark Lord. Voldemort. Alana was the only member of her family - alive or not - that had ever been able to speak the forbidden name.
Of course, this had caused great resentment of her within the family. Anger for her "brashness", embarrassment for her "insubordination", guilt in case he ever found out, and jealousy from those who could not bring themselves to push the syllables past their lips. Her own father was so terrified that she used the name that he took it out in anger on both Alana and her mother. Only Alana's cousin, Sardelle Snape, seemed sympathetic to her, but given that both Sardelle's father and brother were agents of Voldemort, there was never any safe way for her to express this to her until she had left for America where Sardelle had sent money for her to live off of.
For, ultimately, Alana had been disowned. Her grandfather, being the eldest man in the family at the time, had made the decision when she came of age. Upon his word, Alana was written out of every will, erased from the family tree and forbidden to ever claim any tie to the family in any way. All she was left with was an empty name - a symbol of bitterness and what she viewed as a worthless heritage.
And so, renouncing her family, Alana became an auror. She fought fiercely against Voldemort, focusing all of her blame and hatred towards that one man, if he could even be called a man. Countless Death Eaters fell to her blade, countless more broke under her wand. The only auror to use a non magical weapon, she became famous within her own ranks and those of her enemies. The sword itself became her only trusted friend. Working closely with Alastor Moody, Alana was ultimately co-responsible for the destruction, persecution and imprisonment of dozens of Voldemort's followers. Only one case had she ever felt any shape or form of sympathy, much to the disappointment of Moody.
Rows of benches lined the walls of the court chamber. Witches and Wizards filled every available space, making the room smaller and closterphobic. The air was thick and the silence even thicker. Anxiety within Alana was almost to the bursting point as the door at the far end of the room swung open and three figures slid towards a lone chair in the center. Alana went cold. The dementors were terrible creatures; she could never even being to imagine what life inside Azkaban was like, yet any and all servants of Voldemort deserved such a life, right? Alastor, who was sitting next to Alana to her right, certainly thought this way, as she herself had thought at every other trial she had ever been to. In fact, it was her testimony or argument that many times landed the accused inside that terrible place for the rest of their lives. Why should this time be different?
A glance down to the other side of the chamber was her first answer. In the front row on the side of the room facing the door sat a slender, pale figure. Soft black hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, down blue and black robes, and framing an ashen white face with dulled blue eyes. Outwardly, Alana's cousin remained composed, just as any pureblood woman had been taught from childhood, showing no emotion or opinion of the situation. Inwardly, however, Alana knew that Sardelle was being torn violently apart.
Alana shifted her acute gaze painfully back to the prisoner now being bound to the chair. He had sat only after sharing a short, heartfelt glance with his sister, perhaps their last. A small quiver from Sardelle was all that betrayed her immense grief and sorrow to those around them, but Alana knew her cousin better than most everyone else present.
As the golden snakes tied him in place, the accused turned an empty gaze from Sardelle, to Alana. This was not a warm, reassuring gaze like the one reserved for his sister, but one of hatred and angry passion. He glared at her from under a lanky mess of shoulder length greasy black hair, his eyes seeming to be the only bit of him that was still alive. She could meet this with only an empty look from her numb eyes. Part of her hoped beyond all else that today's presence of Albus Dumbledore could make this trial any different from the many others that she had been present at.
"Severus Snape," came the curt voice of Barty Crouch, "you have been brought here, before the Council of Magical Law, so that we may pass judgment on you for the crime of being a Death Eater, and for the numerous crimes that you have committed in the name of your "Dark Lord", the worst including the murders of..."
The years had been kind to Alana. Like any other member of any other ancient noble family, she was extremely pale and delicately shaped. One of the few in her own family to be draped in soft blonde hair, Alana did not suffer the look of extreme pallidness that others of her complexion bared with the contrast of ebony hair. Vivid blue eyes perched over high, well defined cheek bones didn't shine as much as they used to, but they had a much more relaxed expression now that her days of violence were over. A slender nose, inherited from her mother, was, like her blonde hair, yet another characteristic setting Alana apart from the other Snapes.
Physically, Alana was built like all the other women in the family. Tall, slender, elegant and graceful; yet years of training and fighting had toned her body and shaped her muscles so she was not quite as thin as her dear cousin Sardelle.
Alana's residence was rather modest by a typical pureblood family's standards. She owned a handful of square kilometers of land (mainly woods) in Maine near the coast of the Atlantic, with a clearing in the middle three acres large where she had bought an old comfortable home to turn into her castle. Sardelle had sent her money in the form of valuables to sell or pawn after Alana had gone away; had she sent actual money someone would have been sure to notice and reprimand Sardelle for aiding her outcast cousin.
The two women were indeed very close, as their bonds went deeper than sustaining one another monetarily. Only four years separated them. They spent their entire lives together as sisters, as their two fathers were such close brothers. Playing together with dolls or on swings, riding through the English countryside on miniature horses, traveling through the Scottish Highlands, playing pranks on Sardelle's younger brother, life had been good back then. Even when their fathers or went into rages and beat and yelled at their mothers, the two girls were there to comfort each other; and yes, even Sardelle's brother would spend such dark nights huddled together with the two girls wishing the yelling would stop and taking refuge in each other's strength. They had all been so close once.
But then something changed. Lucius Malfoy, an older Slytherin in Sardelle's year, befriended Severus and coaxed him farther and farther towards a life of servitude to Voldemort, something both of their fathers had in common. Sardelle was forced into an arranged marriage with the Count Ian Campbell of Glasgow and sent off to him just after the completion of her last year at Hogwarts. Alana was left to watch the destruction of her cousin without Sardelle, but in a way, she was glad Sardelle wasn't there to see it herself. It was during this time that Alana learned to say Voldemort's name, and it was during this time, in her fifth year, that she told her head of house, Professor Flitwick, that she wanted to be an auror. Partially fearing for her existence, Alana had confided this to the Headmaster too after her grandfather had renounced her. Sardelle was the only other person that was informed of her intentions.
"I must say, Alana, that you have surprised both Professor Flitwick and myself with your decision to become an auror. Especially given the current status of both your family and yourself." Dumbledore said softly. His blue eyes peered at her innocent face over his half-moon spectacles, worry etched in his wise features. "I would suggest that you keep this decision mainly to yourself over the next few years. At least until you are ready to apply to the Ministry. It could be very dangerous for you otherwise."
"Yes, Professor." She managed. Keep it a secret? From whom? Severus was more than well aware of her intentions, and if he knew, then Voldemort himself would probably find out sooner or later. She had already sent her owl to Sardelle telling her that she was abandoning those who had abandoned her and that she would fight in the upcoming war. What else was there to hide? And from whom?
One thing puzzled Alana though. It was obvious that Dumbledore knew about the Death Eaters in her family. How could he not, with Severus right under his nose? He would probably know about Malfoy too, and that Bellatrix Black that always hung around them was more blatant than both Lucius and Severus put together. Why did he not do anything? Dumbledore could stop them all from joining. He could stop them in their tracks. Why didn't he? He had the chance, but he didn't act. Alana promised herself that she would never let herself sit back and watch something ever again. She would choose to act, and if she couldn't act, then she would die trying. She would fight.
She would fight.
