Brandon marched down the streets. Snape. Snape. Severus Snape. The name turned over in his mind again and again with every step. He was Severus Snape. But he was also Colonel Brandon. What had Elinor meant by prophecy? If he could just find out what that prophecy had been, maybe he could make sense of things. Perhaps this prophecy was responsible for his strange memories, memory lapses, and déjà vu?
Brandon stopped in his tracks. The snowglobe! What an idiot he was being! He needed that snowglobe! He marched back to the house where the Dashwoods were staying. Unfortunately the footman had taken up his position again at the door. Thinking quickly, Brandon said,
"I forgot my walking stick in the parlor."
The footman offered to get it, but Brandon insisted on getting it himself and shoved his way forward. Alone in the parlor he stuffed the snowglobe into his pocket. He realized belatedly he had no walking stick to take out with him. Like a flash he came up with another cunning lie.
"Miss Dashwood found my stick and already sent it on. Must have just missed the page," Brandon smiled to the footman.
The footman offered his condolences and hoped Brandon's stick would soon find its way back to him.
Brandon couldn't help feeling proud. Since when had he been so versed in the art of deception? And why did he feel proud for such an achievement? Maybe Severus Snape had the answer. Brandon felt the weight of the snowglobe in his pocket and was reassured.
As soon as he arrived at his own lodgings in London, and cloistered himself in his quarters, he snatched the globe from the folds of his coat. He set it carefully on his desk and stared at it. Nothing happened. He picked it up and held it close to his face, observing it like he was authenticating a rarity for auction. How had Elinor Dashwood set it off?
"Show me your secrets," he murmured.
It glimmered and showed the sallow, black haired man pointing a wand a piece of parchment. His words were garbled through the glass, but Brandon heard his own voice murmuring,
"Show me your secrets."
The parchment wrote upon itself, telling him that Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, think he should keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.
Brandon's eyebrows short toward his hairline. He ran his fingers over his aquiline nose. He crossed his eyes trying to look at it. Was it really that gargantuan? Was it his nose Marianne found unattractive?
"This is hardly helpful," Brandon said to the snowglobe. Though he knew, however offended he felt, it was helpful. It was memories –Snape's memories –his memories.
The globe went dim.
"No, no, come back!" Brandon begged. It was no use. It was a snowglobe, and nothing more, once again.
Brandon ran over the information in his mind. He knew his name, his other name, was Severus Snape. He knew Elinor Dashwood shared a past with him. He knew there was…magic involved. Yes, magic. What else could it be? He also knew that four someones, at the very least, did not like Severus Snape. Or his nose, at any rate.
But things did not come to a head until he met Umbridge...
TO BE CONTINUED...