Trip Down Knockturn Alley
Summary: You are kicked out of your home and society. A friend tells you to go down Knockturn Alley. You have no where to go. You take his advice and come across a site you never thought you would see again. Very hidden Snarry with a different feel.
A/N: I had an idea and wrote it out. Yes, it needs to be edited. I'll do it later or eventually. If it inspires you in any way be free to use it but please give me a message. I love to read new stories and I love to see what others do with any ideas I inspire. Have fun and enjoy. -Tastic
Take a trip down the dark place. A location where infamous is just a daily word. A place of nightmares for small children. Warned immediately when they visit Diagon Alley. Many think it is where there are dark wizards and illicit things. Little do they know that is just the façade. Dig deeper. Pull up your hood and pass by the brothels, illegal potion shops, scary salesman, swindlers, and under the table hires. You are now in the true Knockturn Alley. The muscle below the skin. The place of reverence. A small snapshot of how life used to be. Here "dark creatures" mingle with wizarding kind. Surprisingly, a few knowledgeable muggles pass by. Here is a picture of what many refer to the Magical Outcast Body (Mob). These individuals are outcast by choice, laws, or whatever reason the world throws. Not many know of this unless you are told or stumble upon it.
Here there is no law. But there is a Lord. A highly respected Lord. One obeyed by choice. This Lord earns his respect through many ways. Either by power or by mercy. The current Lord inherited it and rules through mercy and power. Unheard of in this age to find one so young. You can find him by going through the winding roads that all lead to the center of the small city. Pass by a few laughing elven children chasing a blood born werewolf child. Ignore the attractive Veela ladies gossiping in the corner. As you walk you reach the center where a large fountain is found. A simple one with a plaque that reads. "Travelers accepted. Dangers rejected. Love unparalleled. Save the unwanted." The city motto.
Looking forward you find a two story building. Nothing of splendor. It is coffee shop with tables and chairs outside with porch to hide the occupants from the sun. Green vines with beautiful purple flower with red centers crawl up the walls and around the open windows showing more sitting space. As you look closely there are glass displays of baked goods. A small swinging sign catches your attention. "Knockturn Cafe" in large scripted font with a small steaming cup next to it. Of course the steam is moving. The wooden plaque sways with the small breeze as you hear the trickle of water and peace vibrate around you. Much different from the dark Alley. Here the sun smiles at you and wraps you in her arms. You are home.
Drawn to the café you walk in. There is no line but no pays attention to you but the man in front. He seems so similar to you. You can't help but stare. The man behind the counter is a wizard without a doubt. He oozes power and commends respect. You tip your head in acknowledgement of the unspoken threat. The man beams with a bright smile. The gentle man reigned in his aura. You turn and notice everyone had stopped for that moment. Petrified as you had been before ignoring you respectfully with welcoming smiles and continue their activities.
You continue to stare. The man reminds you of someone. Someone long gone. Your heart is reminded of the failure you are. You ignore it and focus on the world before you. The man is wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks. The apron he dons is tied but the top half is bent forward. His collarbone visible due to the lack of button fabric and apron. It displays just the tip of scarred skin. His sleeves are rolled up displaying his flour covered hands and forearms. You travel upwards due to the counter not allowing you to discover how his lower body is. His neck show signs of surviving a life threatening cut across it. His long black hair is pulled back in a ponytail and his long face framing bangs are pulled up and back in a quick clip up. You then stare at his face and admire it. Respect floats from you without your approval. His feminine looks are assisted by broad cheekbones and soft thin lips, tiny upturned nose, and elfish ears. A giant jagged scar runs from his left hair line his face. Over his eyebrows and eye and into his cheek. Another scar adorns his cheek. His vibrant eyes trap you as they also hold an expression of recognition is there staring at you. The man smiles and the side of his eyes crinkle. You zoom in on the unhidden thunderbolt resembled faded scar upon his brow. Sticking out slightly due to his coppered skin, evidence of time spent in the sun.
You stand in shock as your muscle seize up. He walks around the counter and stands before you. You raise a shaken hand and touch his neck and move up to his face that you gentle pat in highly understated able and justified anger that fades as he continues to smile. Understanding is shown in the way he tilts his head into your hand and gives you a lopsided smile. You slowly put your arms around him and hug the man for the first time. You whisper apologies for your actions. The man pats your back and laughs out cheeky replies in hopes to get you to act as you once had. During all this time you feared not knowing anything as your werewolf friend had disappeared with his son into a MOB location near the child's grandmother. You had been left alone, but before you was hope.
The war was five years ago. You had survived through the bite of a vampire who seeked to repent the actions of his now dead master. He made you a half vampire. He gave you a new life free of masters and scars. Then a new law came and forced you to reveal your unknown nature after hiding it since the war. Fearing the worst a werewolf friend recommend he seek haven in the Mob locations throughout the world. You packed everything you own in three shrunken trunks in your pocket and left. You took his advice and seeked the Mob. Despite the outcastment you wished to stay close to places you know. So you fast paced through the dark skin of the underground world and arrived where you were tugged to meet the young man in your arms. You pull back and smile at the young man that had changed and was no longer the tortured, tormented, and dead you knew before. He was a scarred man that forced you to focus on his joyous personality and elven features.
"Welcome to Knockturn Alley, Mob sector Britain." He says with a ever present bright smile.
"A pleasure." You respond with the stern tone that is habit by now. The young man chuckles in pleasure.
"So. . . you survived by a uncompleted bite." He probes with a sad smile as he leads you to back. Not before summoning a 'busy' sign to place on the counter. Going through the back and through a door, you come outside onto an official looking desk that resides in a well taken care garden and with wolf curled up among the bushes framing the walls of buildings that close of the space. The walls of the buildings do not cut off the space but seem to preen with light.
"You survived through a late elven inheritance." You respond as he laughs in glee. He didn't think you would get it.
"More like I awakened it after disappearing from the hospital. I was so tired and worn. I hobbled into the Alley front and had to be rescued by the Lord of the British sector at the time. He happened to be traveling to the surface." He cackled in self demotion.
"Only you would be so foolish-"
"As to seek a way to escape the Wizarding Government? Even if it meant my death?" He interrupts, ignoring your glare. He sits behind the desk and conjures an armchair. You finally realize he is doing all this wandless, a given for magical creatures.
"Impudent brat." You sneer without heat. Habits tend to rule you today.
"Greasy git." He responds with a smile. You finally laugh at the old joke. You are no longer the man you were. Your hair smooth and tied completely back into a high ponytail that hold your shoulder length hair. You have the flawless skin of vampire, pale and certainly not oily. Your wrinkles smoothed out. Since your survival you had learned to smile and laugh again through the help of the werewolf you had come to admire since he had scented out your changes. He had taught you all that and even how to wear clothing that was completely black and formless. You instead humorously embrace your "vampire roots" and wear dress pants, vests, dress shirts, and your ever present long but formfitting cloaks.
"Does this new law forced you here, Severus?" He comments in seriousness. His eyes blazed for a small moment as his smile disappeared.
"The blood testing has cornered me. Luckily all my family properties are tied to my blood and will. Else they would be gone, Potter." You growl.
"Harry, please. We are no longer student and teacher. We are soon to be neighbors, coworkers, and Mob brothers." He smiles.
You twitch a lip back and nod. You relax into the chair he set before you and lounge into it comfortably. You sigh in relief as you realize you are safe from creature poachers and governmental taxers.
"What are you seeking? What do you want?" The young man pushes.
You rub your eyes and choose to answer truthfully. The man must have pull with the Lord of this Sector. That in itself is a blessing. He wouldn't be able to say the same for any other Sector, maybe the one where the werewolf resides.
"I seek the freedom I had before the law. A place to belong. I want a home that I don't have to fear a new law." You whisper as the former savior nods and smiles.
"Mob is the true Magical World. It is bigger and wider than anyone knows. It is ruled by the Council. The Council is made up by the Ruling individual or group of every creature still existing and the sector Lords." He informs you as he leans forward and clasps his hands together on the desk. You focus on him and nod for he to continue to inform you on your soon to be new world. Mob information cannot be found outside the Sectors unless from word of mouth.
"The Lords are different from the Rulers. They preside over mixed cultural Sectors. Much like having the Queen and a Mayor of Britain in the same room except they hold the same power. Lords represent the current state of affairs and Rulers the state of the individual creatures and culture. The council does not tell you what to do. It makes laws and creeds to balance the world. Here there is no evil and good. No light or dark. Grey only. Despite the different views it is always agreed the Council should exist. If not the world will collapse. So no Dark Lords here unless the rule a sector they themselves declare dark. If one Lord tries to conquer another, well let's just say we have six other Sectors and many other Rulers to stomp them down painfully." He continued. "Are you seeking to become a citizen of this Sector or a Drifter?" He asks.
You give him the well-known eyebrow.
"A Drifter is a member of Mob who does not belong to one particular Sector. They might have a favorite but they of course drift from one to another. Important due to the fact they carry news, goods, and sometimes messages. They can hold a partial citizenship. Granting them the protection of one Lord or Ruler." He leans back and waves his hand in the air through the explanation. You nod and think on it as you stare at the wolf that watches you from the bushes.
"A citizen. I desire a home, Po-Harry. I may 'drift' every once in a while but not regularly to require that title." You respond as you see the scarred man walk over to you. He stand before you, hands in his pocket.
"Where do you want it?" He replies.
"Want what?" Puzzled, you are taken back as he smiles gently at you with a mirthful expression.
"When you become are a Mob resident you are given a tattoo. It shows who you are." He laughs softly at your eyebrow as he begins to unbutton and untuck his dress shirt. He snags the right side away and shows his tattoos.
They are almost like a brand but beautiful and artistic. The first is directly over a portion of his shoulder is a wolf midstride surrounded by a circle of the same veins hanging around the café. It is a simple chocolate brown color. Next to it is faded dark green depiction of an Elven Plumeria flower that seemed to be a cross of a cherry blossom and plumeria flower. Around it were runes of ancient meaning in a circle. The third showed a dark blue circle with three scratches through it. The last one was the most prominent. It had the most vibrant shade of gold on the spiked and simple golden crown in the middle of a circle of dots. It caught the eye when you noticed it.
"You have four. . . " You simply say. "Wait, why are you asking me where I want it?" You demand, cutting him off harshly. You cross your arms and lean further into the armchair.
He laughs as and smiles. He takes the shirt completely off. He places it on the desk and leans back on it. With a hand he points to the one on his shoulder.
"This is the crest of the British Sector. You would be receiving this same one." He points to the next one. "This is the Elven crest. I am well established as a wind elfling there. I have weight there you can say, else it would be brown." He moves on. "This is the Werebeings crest. I am respected there for several reasons so I hold weight due to the blue tint. I saved a few of their kind over the years." He moves onto the last on and sighs as if he expects you to freak out. You begin to become suspicious. "This is the Council crest. Specifically a Lords crest due to the crown. The dots represent a species or Lord seat. I am Lord of Knockturn. I rule this Sector. I received it when my friend passed of old age and gave it to me. I've held it for a year now." He finally answers.
You, of course, freak out but keep level headed. You begin to find out you have been sneering and jesting with a prominent figure of the society you want to join.
"So the Werebeings crest . . . you saved them."
"Yes. Many times when I traveled. Word got out about it and soon when I became Lord I saved many by offer jobs, housing, or safety. Now I've had it for three years and it has allowed me to hold weight as I informed of the Law. I now have a way to send many to safety." He responded.
You breathe in and out and sigh. You rub your eyes. You understand why this young man has survived yet you still question it.
"On my shoulder, much like you." You respond. It is convenient spot to hide as well as easy to display if needed.
The young man understands and nods. He waits as you take your coat, vest and dress shirt of. He looks away from your chest with a blush. You can't help but chuckle. He leans forward and touches your right shoulder. You flinch remembering the Dark Mark. He whispers the words that escape your ears before you feel the magic. Nothing like you remember when receive the Mark that mar your forearm but a blissful cool sensation before you felt anchored and centered. You felt the society around you. A hug of magic before it seeps into your bones. A magic so ancient you felt the knowledge of the town.
It was one of the original towns that was created to be a safe haven from the Government before it was added as the first Sector. You feel a smile so wide split your face as you focus on the dancing green eyes. Your home.
"Severus Tobias Snape of the Knockturn Sector of the Britain. Welcome home."
He extends a hand that you take and bow your head.
"My Lord, thank you."
"For you, Severus, it's always Harry. Come, let's show you your home." He pulls you and you walk into the Café and out the front.
End Notes: Hope you enjoyed it. It was a joy to write. Maybe I'll write more. Who knows I am very mellow about writing. I don't care for reviews. I just love writing and spreading ideas. BTW! Even if I do write a long story about this or further adventures, I always allow you to write your own. I encourage it!
Swift Pens! -Tastic