The Snape Legacy, Chapter 2
The moment Sarah flopped backwards onto the bed she knew she would not be able to sleep. She could hardly believe what had just happened! If she had spoken like that to her father she probably wouldn't have seen daylight for weeks. But instead of getting furious with her, or blasting her where she stood with his wand (as she had secretly feared), he had agreed with her, and even let her in the house. And now she was laying in the first real bed she had ever touched, full of that soothing tea he had poured, and watched over by the one person in all of Europe that her father would never challenge. Finally, she was safe.
She awoke the next morning as the smell of fried eggs wafted into her room. Sitting up, she felt disoriented for a moment, and then, as she began to remember the last 24 hours, she stood quickly and threw her old jeans on before venturing out of her new room.
The sun hit the settee as it faced the east windows and Sarah saw at an angle how very dusty the furniture was. Wandering into the kitchen, she watched in awe for a moment as a bespelled pan seemed to fry eggs all on it's own before she grabbed a rag from the counter and began to straighten and dust around the parlour.
Her uncle swept into the room moments later, pausing to observe her as she briskly cleared away several inches of dust from a nearby light fixture. "You are not a house elf," he said suddenly in what she was coming to understand were his usual irate tones.
"What is a house elf?" she asked curiously, still cleaning.
"They are small magical servants who do such menial chores as you now are doing," he explained evenly.
"Well, you obviously don't have one, Uncle," she replied waspishly, "or I would have no need to do this."
He was silent for a long moment, and Sarah was forcibly reminded again of the infamous Snape legacy-- a hot temper.
"If you are to live here," he said finally, in a biting tone, "you will learn the proper way to address me."
"And what is that?" she asked, pretending to be unimpressed. She had come from one bullying family, and wasn't about to be pushed around by another!
"You will call me Snape. Professor Snape, while we are at Hogwarts,"
"But my surname is Snape also," she replied sensibly, "we can't go around forever calling each other 'Snape this', 'Snape that'."
"What about Uncle Severus?" she asked thoughtfully. Then, seeing his face she amended quickly, "Or just Uncle. And not at school."
He regarded her for one moment with a sneer on his face that reminded her far too well of her mother's face when she looked at Sarah. But then it softened minutely and he said, "I suppose it is too late to deny any familial attachment here. Very well, you may call me Uncle, but not in front of your classmates. Ever."
"Yes, Uncle," she replied obediently.
"Now finish the dusting. We have a long way to travel today, if we are to get to Diagon Alley without Apparating."
"Apparating?"
"It is a spell used to move instantaneously from one physical point to the next," her uncle said with a sigh of annoyance.
"Sorry, Uncle," she said, ducking her head.
"While we are there, we shall visit Flourish and Blott's and purchase your spell books for the year. From then on you will direct your questions to them." he said sternly, "I teach all year long, and have no wish to continue on holiday."
"Yes, sir," she said humbly. And turning, she swept the dust rag over the lamp one more time.
Their journey to Diagon Alley was uneventful. Although Sarah had never seen much of London, living as she did in Sussex, she kept her mouth shut as she surveyed the streets they passed through. But when her uncle turned to step into a dark and dirty tavern between two shops, she did comment, "it doesn't look like anyone else can even see this place." She watched the eyes of the passersby as they seemed to slide right past the doorway in which she stood.
"They can't," her uncle said simply, "the Leaky Cauldron employs muggle-repelling charms."
"What's a muggle?" Sarah asked him, confused.
"Muggles are people who possess no magic."
"You have a word for that?" she asked, feeling indignant, "doesn't sound like a very nice word."
"It's not," Severus told her with a contemptuous sneer. Sarah was about to protest, when she thought, I don't know why I'm standing up for them. No muggle ever did me a good turn. And then she grinned-- already she was thinking with this new world, starting to use magical terms and think magical thoughts. I wonder if Flourish and Blott's will have any good books on the wizarding world in general.
When she entered the store her uncle had told her carried the texts she would need for the up-coming year, Sarah paused to stare about her in awe. Magical posters flashed pictures of flying broomsticks and balls with golden wings. To her right lay a stack of fliers piled higher than her head, all sporting a moving picture of a demented-looking man who might have been handsome if not for the straight-jacket he wore. But best of all were the shelves, covered from ceiling to floor with books. Sarah loved books, though she had never owned more than a few of her own before. Her bookishness had not endeared her to her family, but the escape that fairy tales and mysteries provided was always worth it.
"Wow," she breathed, taking in the enormous assortment of textbooks on every subject she had ever imagined and more.
Just then, she was jarred out of her revery by a sharp elbow in the back.
"Sorry,"
"Sorry!" her voice chorused with that of the boy who had bumped her. Turning, she found herself looking up into the eyes of a tall young man with bright orange hair. He smiled lopsidedly as a blush inched up from his collar to turn first his cheeks and then his ears pink.
"Didn't see you there," he said, ducking his head.
"Crowded, isn't it," she agreed with an easy smile, "I'm Sarah, Sarah Snape," she added.
"Ron," he replied, still not quite paying attention, "Ron Weas...Did you say Sarah Snape?" He asked suddenly. He stared intensely into her face as though looking for a smudge of dirt.
"Yeah, why?" she asked, confused at his rude manner.
"I..." he began and then trailed off as her uncle walked into Flourish and Blott's, "Professor!" he said, shocked.
"What are you doing, Sarah?" her uncle asked, ignoring the boy.
"Just looking for my school books, Uncle," she replied nervously. Dismayed, she watched as the nice boy backed up quickly and turned to disappear into the crowd.
"Then do it quickly," Severus said with a sour twist of his mouth, "I have no more wish to remain here very long than I wish to take a bubotuber puss bath."
"Yes, Uncle," she said quickly. Grabbing the book list that had come with her Hogwarts letter, she pushed forward through the crowd to find the storekeeper.
"Is he really your uncle?" The red-headed boy had returned.
"Yeah, why?" She asked, surprised again at his short manner.
"Wow, it's just," he paused and glanced sideways at her, "it's just that you seem so nice."
"He's not that bad once you get to know him," Sarah informed him.
"I've known him for 5 years," the boy named Ron said flatly, "and that's all I care to know him."
"Well," Sarah blushed, "actually, I've only known him for a few days, but he's been really kind to me."
"Kind?" the boy repeated incredulously, "what, did you live with giants before him, or something?"
Unconsciously, Sarah pulled at the sleeve covering her deepest scar, "I guess you could say that," she said in an almost-whisper.
"Sorry," the boy frowned down at her, "but I guess it must have been pretty bad, if you think Professor Snape is better."
"He's given me my own room, and he bought me an owl," she replied, suddenly feeling shy. This boy must be about 16, and she only 11! But he didn't seem to mind talking to her, "What did you say your name was again?" She asked.
"Ron, Ron Weasley,"
"Pleasure to meet you," she said with an extended hand.
He shook it, and then said, "Well, I guess I'll see you in September,"
"Right," she replied shyly.
"Good bye, Sarah Snape. Don't let your uncle curse you before end of holidays!" and with a friendly wave, he was gone.