Chapter Four Part One

The Girl on the Steps

Snape hurried to the end of the street, his hand on his wand as it rested loosely inside his jacket pocket. The Street was dark and dimly lit, most of the street lamps being broken and many of the houses either extremely run down or not lived in at all. The abandoned mill nearby meant that many of the terraced houses were deserted, as their occupants no longer needed them when they had lost their jobs. For most of the year, Snape's house too was not lived in, as he resided at Hogwarts during the term time. But most summers he returned to Cokeworth, to Spinner's End where he had grown up as a child. His small brick house had formerly belonged to his parents, and when they had died he had inherited it. To Snape it was not a home, but simply a place to live when it was not practical to reside at Hogwarts. He had been about to go into his house when he had seen a curious flash of light at the end of the street, and was almost positive that someone had performed magic of some sort. There could be any number of explanations, but if it was someone or something connected to him, it would not have occurred at the opposite end of the street. Anyone who needed to contact him in Cokeworth knew that he lived at the other end of the street, and so this flash of light was necessary to investigate. Slowing down as he reached the last few houses on Spinner's End, he narrowed his eyes, squinting in the dark. The one street lamp that did work usually was now flickering overhead, illuminating for seconds at a time the small house directly underneath it. He kept to the shadows, trying to use the light of the broken lamp to see what was going on in the house. It was one of the only houses at this end of the street that was actually lived in, and he often heard shouting and unpleasantries when he walked past it. He had never seen anyone go into it or come out, but it was evident from the noise that it was occupied. Looking to the step outside the front door, he crept forward and squinted harder in the dark. He could just about make out a figure sitting there, and could hear that it was a girl- she was crying softly. The girl pulled her sleeve across her hand and wiped it across her face, sniffing quietly as she continued to cry. Suddenly, the door flew open and Snape stepped back into the shadows as light flooded the area around the house. It was coming from the hallway, where a tall, beefy looking woman stood, towering over the girl on the steps.

"You get back in here right now," she shouted, her voice menacing. "You get in here and fix what you have done!"

The girl flinched as the woman above her shouted, and seemed to shrink away from her on the steps.

"I didn't do anything," she cried, sounding petrified. "I swear! It wasn't me!"

The woman in the front door way strode forward, and Snape could not see her face. She stooped, grabbed the girl by the collar and hauled her to her feet roughly.

"I am not asking," she said darkly, her teeth gritted. "I am telling you, to get back inside NOW."

The girl wriggled and fought, but was much smaller than the woman holding her.

"No!" she shouted. "I didn't do anything, you can't keep doing this!" Dodging the woman's hand as she tried to slap her, she struggled free as a second violent flash of light lit up the doorstep and propelled her backwards. Falling down the steps she landed on the pavement outside the house, lying on her back. Scrabbling to her feet, she backed away from the advancing woman quickly and swung around. She began to run, and the woman stopped in her tracks, obviously tired of pursuing already.

"You'll be back," she shouted after the girl. "You have nowhere else to go! And when you come back..." she trailed off, her face full of unpleasant satisfaction. Snape frowned and stayed where he was, watching the woman go back inside. He had been right- magic had been used, and before his eyes in this case. He knew he should probably find her, out of duty to the world that he lived in. She had broken several rules doing what she had just done, and he'd had no idea that a witch lived on the street with him. The door of the house closed, and he was about to turn and look for the girl when something solid and fast moving collided with him. Stumbling backwards, he hit the wall and grabbed whatever it was that had hit him, fumbling for his wand with the other hand.

"Lumos maxima," he said quickly, the end of his wand lighting up so that he could better see in the alley way. With his other hand he gripped whatever it was that had hit him, and as he got his balance back he held his wand out to get a better look at whatever or whoever it was.

"Let me go!" It was the girl from the steps. She had obviously changed direction to fool the woman in the house, and had run into him in the shadows of the other side of the street.

"Ow, let me go!" She struggled, trying to wrench her arm out of his hand, but when he showed no sign of relenting she stopped wriggling so hard. Her dark hair covered her face, so he couldn't see her even in the light his wand was giving off.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "And why are you doing magic in front of muggles?" She started to struggle again, seeming more panicky this time.

"Let me go you crackpot," she said desperately, sounding like she was going to cry again.

"Where's your wand?" he persisted, searching what he could see of her with his eyes to look for her wand so he could disarm her.

"What? My wand? You're crazy!" she said, trying to push him backwards. He stood firm and wrenched her forwards dulling his wand and using the tip of it to move her hair off of her face. When she finally looked up at him, he was caught off guard. Her eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen before. She was older than he had first thought, and looked thoroughly petrified. Her face was smeared with dirt and tears, and her left cheek was beginning to rise in a smarting, angry bruise. Seemingly unable to look away from her eyes he went to dull the light from his wand, but remembered that it was already dull. Her eyes were bright and piercing without anything to illuminate them- even the streetlamp overhead had stopped flickering and had gone black.

"Why won't you let me go?" she said, starting to cry again. "Please, if they come out and find me..."

Looking at her carefully, he wondered what to do. She seemed to have no idea what he was talking about- but she couldn't be a muggle, she had done magic right in front of him.

"You're hiding?" he demanded. She nodded, looking at him desperately. He looked away. It was the only thing he could think of to do, even if it did not entirely make sense. "Then come with me."

Turning, he half dragged her a few metres along the street before she started to run to keep up with him, looking over her shoulder to check that she wasn't being followed.

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"Why do you keep talking about magic?" the girl asked wearily, looking around Snape's living room. "You're talking nonsense. Why am I here?"

He walked past her to the fireplace, dropping a blanket into her lap roughly. Going to the fireplace, he took the iron stoker off of the wall and poked the fire, causing it to flare. The girl flinched at the noise and stared at the blanket in her lap, still looking very unsure.

"Forgive me," he said dryly, still looking into the fire. "But you did not seem to be facing any other more appealing options."

She looked at his back, shivering.

"I assume you know what a blanket is for," he added, not turning around. She looked a little alarmed, and after a few minutes in silence, she gingerly unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Who are you?" she half whispered, sounding weary and tired. "Some kind of magician?" Snape could not help but laugh softly, and turning around he looked at her curiously. He could not tell her the exact truth when she didn't even believe in magic, and he still had to get to the bottom of the fact that she had herself performed magic in front of her.

"You first. What is your name?" he sat down heavily in front of her in the arm chair by the fire, having made sure that she sat closest to the flames in an effort to keep her from going into some sort of shock.

She looked around the room again silently, her odd and beautiful eyes darting from corner to corner cautiously.

"Anna," she said quietly. "Anna Sylvari." He had not heard the name before, but it was in a strange way familiar. Snape wracked his brains as to whether her name was one he had ever come across in the wizarding world, but 'Sylvari' was not a common name, and he could think of no link anywhere.

"Have you lived on this street for long?" he pressed.

"Yes, my whole life. Why are you asking me questions? Why won't you let me go?" she looked very agitated and worried. He sighed and stood up slowly, walking to the window. Gesturing to the door, he looked at her blankly.

"If you want to go, then go. I'm sure you have somewhere much warmer and more inviting than this just calling your name, Anna Sylvari." He smirked slightly, knowing full well that she would not move. She looked down into her lap where her hands were clasped together, suddenly looking very small and ashamed.

"I didn't think so." Walking behind her, he fought to choose only the most important and immediately necessary questions from the thousands he wanted to ask her.

"What is your age?" he asked, his voice low and even. She looked up, her face pale.

"Are you a policeman or something?" she said, fear gripping her. "If they think I called you they'll kill me..."

"I am not a policeman," he cut her off. "How old are you?"

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes haunting. She opened her mouth and closed it again, still silent.

"The truth," Snape added. She sighed quietly.

"Eighteen."

He had thought she would be older- he supposed that the weight of the world upon her shoulders had aged her beyond that. She had revealed already that she knew nothing about magic- either that or she was a very convincing actress. He knew liars when he saw them, and she was no simple liar. If she was acting, she was not telling petty lies for the sake of it.

"Tell me Miss Sylvari," he said, leaning against the mantelpiece and pronouncing her name slowly and clearly.

"Do strange things happen around you when you get angry?" he watched her carefully, especially when her head shot up at his question. Her long hair hung limply around her face, which was full of shock and questioning. Snape smirked. That would do for a yes.

"That's what happened tonight," he said, making a statement rather than asking a question. She said nothing, but stared at him with wide, enthralling eyes.

"You are blamed for it," he continued. "As if you can control it." She looked down, the nails of one of her hands digging into the flesh of the other.

"How do you know it's me?" she asked suddenly, staring at him. "It could be them. They get just as angry as me."

Snape continued to smirk. She really had no idea- either that, or she was trying to throw him off. He knew instinctively which was right.

"It is not them, Miss Sylvari," he said smoothly. "And you know it." She looked down, her hair falling across her face once more, and was very still and quiet for a few minutes. He sat there, letting her think and doing so himself.

"What is your name?" she whispered suddenly, looking up. Her hair stuck to her face where her tears fell, and for a moment Snape's heart and mind wandered back to his own early youth. She obviously was uncared for and neglected.

"Professor Snape," he said, deciding to give her his title rather than his first name. For now, anyway.

"Professor Snape," she repeated, her voice barely audible. "What's wrong with me?" she looked at him for a moment, her eyes big and desperate, as if she were reaching out to him for help like he was the only one left alive to give it. Her eyes were the kind that would inspire joy in the hearts of all those that met them, should they contain any themselves. They were big and wide, and full of pain and confusion and suffering. She needed help, and she wanted him to save her. What could he say to her? This was not his field- rescuing confused, damaged people with no idea about magic. She had been living on his street for eighteen years- how could he not have noticed a witch so close by? Did this make her his responsibility?

"You are a witch," he said blankly. She blinked, staring at him.

"Thanks," she said, shaking her head as if all hope was now completely lost. "You don't even know me," she cried, starting to sob. "How can you insult me like that when you don't even know me?"

Snape closed his eyes, cursing himself. Where was a sap like Lupin or Hagrid when one was needed? 'Witch,' he remembered, was an insult in the muggle world.

"You, Miss Sylvari, are a genuine witch, and the reason you cause damage and destruction when you are angry or upset is because you are capable of performing magic."

He frowned. Having said that, she did not have a wand. She must be like him- capable of doing magic without a wand. There weren't many that could, and if she was one of them then she really was an extraordinary find. Seeing her face, he sighed. It was going to be a long evening of explanation and attempts to convince her that he was telling the truth. He could only hope that she was doing the same.

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Waking up with a start, Snape took a deep breath and looked around his room. He half expected her to be there with him, so real had the dream been. Why was he dreaming about her? She was on his mind enough during the day, so why was she invading it at night too? The day he had found her was one he often thought of whilst awake, and which replayed in his mind even more often when he was not. That day had changed his life, and he had never been the same since. Without her as a part of his life, he felt he would no longer be complete.