Chapter Seven

The summer after his third year was a special kind of hell which, through its unending pain, led to Severus's greatest discovery.

His mother was alone when she picked him up at King's Cross. She was sporting a lurid bruise on her cheek. He looked at her for the first time in almost a year and felt something wavering between pity and shame. He didn't even know if she owned a wand any more.

They said little during the car ride home. When they arrived Severus took his suitcase straight up to his bedroom and stayed there, staring at the ceiling.

The first time he went downstairs was out of necessity. He had skipped dinner for two days in a row and knew that it couldn't carry on. He walked quietly into their tiny little kitchen-dinette and saw his father again.

The man's beard was longer and stragglier than Severus remembered, but his eyes were as bloodshot, his clothes as unkempt, and he looked as angry as ever. Later, Severus wasn't even sure was had prompted the fight. He was just finishing his mashed potato, not listening, when his father stood up. His mother stood up too, and there was a frozen moment where they both stood – his fists balled by his sides, her holding her arms out. As if to reach for her husband.

Before Severus knew it he was on the floor, feeling exactly as he had when he was ten, eight, six years old. Both parents screaming. His father raised a fist, and Severus closed his eyes. Blocked his mind from the world until he couldn't hear them, see them, feel them... until they weren't there.

After a time he opened his eyes and found the kitchen empty, as he had known he would. His mashed potatoes had been cleared away in his 'absence'. The only thing that made this scene different from his younger days was that his eyes were dry. He didn't have any thoughts about that. The next night, his father elected to go to the pub instead.

Severus was stretched out on his back in the dim light of his room, duvet scrunched up underneath him. He had no sense of what time it could be and little desire to find out.

It was unbearable.

To go from Hogwarts to this squalor. From four-posters to lumpy mattresses. From whatever wary respect he had earned to being the dirt on someone's shoes. Even if he was still bullied and teased by Gryffindors, and still had no friends, he had something. And he was building it, and it would grow. But here... here he was a nothing.

A moth was orbiting the bare lightbulb. Going plink with every collision.

And what was worse was that he could no longer write to Lucius. Only the owl knew how to find him, and it was at Hogwarts. Here Severus was entirely, totally, miserably alone.

Plink, plink. Plink.

"Idiot," murmured Severus, raising his hand to squish it.

The creature was completely mindless, with no concept of the size of the world, or what Severus was, or its impending doom. It was acting on a deep-rooted instinct, one clearly inappropriate for the modern world. It just had no idea. Something about this gave Severus pause. He shooed it out the window instead.

He sat back down on the bed and pulled his bookbag out from under it. He clutched the Dark books to his chest like the talismans that they were. He had learned such a great deal from them. In fact the majority of the work he had been assigned last year had seemed laughably easy with the aid of the knowledge from these illicit texts. From these books he had mined true gems.

He wanted away from this place. Away from the constraints of dismal, muggle reality and back into the world of magic that he loved. He lay down and allowed his mind to drift in the eddies of of his understanding. Pools of knowledge into which he dipped, leaping out again when the requisite fact was obtained... The way potions were built up from their constituent parts. The way the words you spoke channelled your magic in the way that you willed.

He twirled his wand in his hand and considered this. The words you said contained the magic, but only because you chose for them to do so, and only because you had magic. Without the intent and without the magic, the words meant nothing and did nothing.

But the words did have power, because power was ascribed to them. Human minds were built on language, and worked on language. Not just any words would do for a particular spell, irrespective of the will behind them.

His eyes widened a little.

But if you found the words that would work, you could invent an entirely new type of spell.

Severus sat up and pulled another few books out of his bag. The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four. He pored over the pages of spells, at the words of the spells, at what they did, at the meanings of them, and realised. He could do this. Why couldn't he do it? Each year the Ministry published a list of new, officially sanctioned spells. They had to come from somewhere.

He wracked his brains for an idea to try. He looked down at the Dark books and remembered when he had originally stolen them. What a long time ago that seemed now. But the memory gave him the germ of an idea.

Wingardium Leviosa. The spell he had cast when the books had tumbled to floor. Such a clunky, imprecise spell. It was designed to make objects float, of course, but being a catchall charm it was often not very effective. A spell specific to books would have worked much better. Book, fly. Raise books. Why just books? You could make to make anything float – a quill, a suitcase, even a person...

He scritched in the margin of his Potions book as ideas came to him. He muttered the words, trying out their sounds and meanings.

He raised his wand and tried a few, then set it down after each failed result. He wasn't afraid of casting magic here. Though the Trace was still on him, there was after all a registered witch living at this address. She would be expected to control any magic he performed. What a joke.

"Libri Levi!"

No, no, no...

"Levilibri."

He only muttered it under his breath, didn't even have his wand in hand, but he felt the book twitch under his hand.

His heart quickened just a little as he picked up his wand and uttered more clearly: "Levilibri."

The book rose gracefully into the air, then dropped as Severus's surprise made him lose concentration.

One more time.

"Levilibri!"

The books flew into the air, easily and perfectly. Severus found himself grinning wide, happier than he could have imagined being all Summer.

He couldn't wait to tell Lucius.