They did go to Diagon Alley on Saturday. Eileen had managed to jigger her work schedule to get a half-day off, so she roused Severus at the ungodly hour of five o'clock, ignoring his grumbled complaints. "Is anything even open this early in the morning?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes. He kept his volume low because his father was upstairs sleeping off yet another hangover.
"Gringotts is open at all hours of the day," Eileen replied, attacking her son's collar and trying to make it lie as it was supposed to. They were both dressed in their nicer clothes, which meant only that they fit approximately to their bodies and had a conspicuous absence of mending. "That visit will take about an hour, and the rest of the shops open at seven. We'll want to get in and get out as quickly as possible."
There were many things that Severus could have said in response to that. He could have asked if his mother was ashamed to be seen with her half-blood son, if she was ashamed to be seen herself by the members of the society that she had fallen from. He even could have asked if she was all right, because he'd heard yelling late last night, and this morning she had a patch of concealer carefully applied around her eye. But he didn't, because he knew what she would say. Of course I'm not ashamed of you, Severus. Of course I don't care what they think. Of course I'm all right. Your father just gets too excited sometimes, that's all.
Severus was no fool. He knew that she was trying to protect him from reality. But he heard her crying in her bedroom when she thought he was asleep. He had noticed her give her food to him in the times when his father had been accumulating debts of the sort that they couldn't buy groceries. Two years ago, when they were so far behind on the mortgage that they were going to lose the house, Eileen had come home with wide, dry eyes, a bare spot on her finger where her ring had been, a gift from her father before things had soured between them. Severus saw it but didn't comment, because he knew his mother worked so very hard to keep him oblivious, and if she knew she had failed it would be no fault but his own.
These were heavy thoughts for an eleven-year-old, so he thrust them away and followed his mother to the fireplace. In the earliest year of her marriage, before things went to an alcohol-flavored hell, one of Eileen's stipulations had been a connection to the Floo network, as most wizarding families had. It had been her most decisive victory in her entire marriage. She dug in a drawer and found the powder, tossing a pinch on the fire and gesturing Severus forward. He took a breath and made sure to enunciate clearly as he spoke. Floo accidents were few and far-between, but people who mumbled were disproportionately victims of unintended destinations. Severus did not want to start his day like that if he could help it. The flames turned green and he stepped through.
Moments later and miles away, he was quite proud that he didn't crumple to his knees and vomit like he wanted to. Instead he staggered away from the mantle unsteadily, clutching at his stomach. In the next instance his mother was at his side, steadying him, laying a cool, callused hand at the back of his neck. Until their magic matured, children tended to experience side effects when traveling by Floo, and Severus was no exception.
After a few heartbeats, Severus was able to straighten up and look around. The Leaky Cauldron was not terribly impressive, as first impressions go. The only person there other than themselves was the man behind the counter, polishing some glasses with a dishcloth.
"'Lo, Tom," Eileen called over her shoulder, steering Severus towards the door. Tom nodded back silently, not looking up from his work. Outside, Diagon Alley was lit mainly by streetlight and by the individual lanterns mounted beside shops' doorways, though there was the odd window already lit from within, a rectangle of warmth spilling onto the sidewalk. Eileen walked with purpose, turning corners without hesitation. Severus trailed behind her, wondering what the Alley looked like normally, filled with people and parcels. They passed by a used bookstore, and he worked hard not to salivate too visibly. His mother had told him about the four Houses of Hogwarts, though she hadn't gone into the specifics of the Sorting Ceremony. She had been a Slytherin, but she suspected Severus would be a Ravenclaw on account of his love for books. Severus hadn't bothered to correct her. He recognized that knowledge was useful only when applied correctly—Slytherin to the core.
Then he remembered a dream he had had, venomous accusations from a puffy-haired bespectacled boy passing through his mind. He fought off a shiver and ran to catch up with his mother. They climbed the stairs together, passing by the goblin at the doors. Inside Gringotts, which was almost as empty as the Leaky Cauldron had been, his mother had a quiet discussion with the teller and turned to him. "Wait here."
"Can't I come with you?" he asked, stung, and then he realized. His mother didn't want him to see how little she had in her vault. "I'll wait."
He saw the tension in her shoulders decease significantly. "I shouldn't be too long. Keep out of trouble. Don't move from that bench, and keep quiet." She disappeared into another corridor at the heels of yet another goblin.
Boredom and Severus did not go well together, and fifteen minutes of sitting on an uncushioned wooden bench staring at the ceiling proved to be too much. He debated asking the teller for some sort of reading material, like a blank contract. He'd never had the chance to dissect legalese, much less that of the Goblin variety, and if he didn't do something soon, his brain was going to liquefy and dribble out his ears. He held on for five more minutes, and gave in.
The teller looked at him skeptically. "Why would you wish to read a contract?"
Severus shrugged. "Practice. I'm only eleven, so I can't fill out anything and have it be binding, but I thought it might be a good idea to get used to the formatting and the language of the documents."
The goblin looked approving, if a goblin ever looked approvingly at a human. "Indeed," he said, passing an inch of papers bound with gold thread over the counter. "Return this to me before you leave."
Severus almost staggered under the weight of the papers, but made it back to his seat. He began dissecting the contract, which had something to do with the acquisition of goods gained from conquest from a wizard fighting on behalf of a warlord sometime in the twelfth century. At first, the contract seemed as though it heavily favored the wizard, but, while reading the fine print, Severus discovered a multitude of requirements that made his head spin. The warlord received a tenth of the flat bounty from any job, but then he also received jewels that reflected purple light (but only on Tuesdays), goblets with a circumference of no greater than 14 inches (but only if they had three handles), bracelets that had some sort of owl emblem (but only if they did not have a clasp)…the list of technicalities went on for pages and pages. But the very last thing that the warlock demanded was the entire haul of enchanted artefacts, with no exceptions.
It was all very cleverly, densely worded, but Severus thought that it must have been successful through length alone; few people would want to wade through pages upon pages of nonsensical requirements. He stood and returned the contract to the teller just before his mother returned, pale and resolute. He barely managed to nod his thanks before she hustled him out the door. "Are you all right?" he asked cautiously.
She grimaced. "It's those carts the goblins use. I've never gotten used to them."
Severus did not regret missing the cart ride. Among other things, such as his unfortunate nose and his long, spidery hands, he had inherited his mother's propensity for motion sickness. "Where are we going?" he asked.
She pointed ahead. "Ollivanders. I thought we might get your wand first."
Severus wanted to protest. Wands were expensive, and wands from Ollivanders even more so. Eileen saw his look. "Severus, don't fight me on this. You need a good wand if you want to be successful at all. We can compromise on the quality of other things, but not on this." She spoke in a whisper; Diagon Alley was slowly coming to life. Shopkeepers were throwing open their doors, sweeping off their slivers of sidewalk, setting up some of their wares outside. There was beginning to be foot traffic.
Severus wanted to argue, but he looked at the lines around his mother's mouth, the circles around her eyes, the bruise that Muggle concealer couldn't fully hide. So instead he nodded, and they entered Ollivanders together. At first the shop appeared empty, but suddenly a man whom Severus presumed to be Ollivander sprang out from behind the shelves.
"Good day, good day," he said to Severus, speaking very rapidly. "Here to be fitted for a wand, are you?" He seemed to notice Eileen for the first time. "Eileen Prince, if I remember correctly. Yes, that's right. Black walnut and unicorn hair, ten and three-quarter inches. Rather bendy, I recall. Well-attuned to inner conflict."
Eileen smiled tightly at Ollivander. "That's right, but I'm Eileen Snape now. We're here for a wand for Severus."
"Indeed, indeed," Ollivander murmured, scrutinizing Severus carefully. He plucked a box from the pile behind him and thrust it at Severus. "Elm and unicorn hair, nine inches. Give it a wave."
As soon as Severus took it out, Ollivander snatched it back. "No good, no good." He dug out another box. "Dogwood and phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches." Severus had barely gotten the box open before Ollivander wanted him to try another.
Soon it seemed as though he would have to try every wand in the store. Strangely, Ollivander seemed to become more cheerful as more wands rejected him. "You're a strange one, aren't you? Very good, very good. Most people only try two or three boxes—try this." He passed Severus a wand of cypress and dragon heartstring. Rejection.
Finally, Ollivander stopped and gazed thoughtfully at Severus. "I think I know what you need," he said, and disappeared into the back of the store. He reappeared holding yet another box. "I made this years ago. Birch and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches even. Birch wands are very particular about who they pair with, you see, so I only have three of them in stock. Good for spellwork of all types, but particularly things that require precision." He offered the wand to Severus.
Severus closed his fingers over the smooth, cool wood and immediately felt a tingle that he hadn't with any of the other wands. He waved it, and he felt his magic responding, traveling down his arms and through his fingertips. The wand's tip exploded in sparks.
Ollivander practically beamed. "As I thought." He grew more serious. "Few carry birch wands," he said, "but those who do are stubborn. They often have strong personalities and care little for the opinions of others. They are very selective with their loyalty, but once it is earned it is kept unto death." He caught Severus' free hand and stared into his face. "Remember that, child, and be careful to whom you give your heart."
Severus had goosebumps, and not only because there was a draft. He remembered his dream, of staring into emerald eyes as the dark overtook him, and shivered while the adults discussed payment over his head. Be careful to whom you give your heart.
A/N—Hello, my ducklings. I just wanted to clear a few things up. First, some of you might have noticed that I mentioned 'miles' when talking about distance. My headcanon is that the British wizarding world uses the Imperial System instead of the Metric System because the Imperial System is far less consistent and makes a lot less sense. It's like their monetary system. Why use nice round numbers when you could simply confuse the hell out of everyone?
Also, the birch from Severus' wand is valued in Celtic mythology as bringing about new beginnings, purification, and service. According to the Harry Potter Wiki, dragon heartstring is the most powerful and also the easiest to turn to Dark Arts. It bonds very strongly with its owner.
I will admit, this was mostly a fluff chapter. Don't worry, things will pick up starting in the next one. Thanks for reading, and even greater thanks for my reviewers. You are my most favoritest people ever.
With love, to-Melanie
