A/N: Written for IWSC 2020
School: Ilvermorny
Year: 4
Wc: 1656
Theme: Artefact Incidents: Magical Artefacts and how they are used or can affect the user or the victim.
Main Prompt: [Object] Cursed Necklace
Optional Prompts: [Quote] "It's not whether you get knocked down, it's whether you get up" - V Lompardi, [Emotion] Fear
Severus' eyes opened as he heard a loud crash.
It was a sound he was familiar with, that he had heard for as long as he could remember. He sat up and swung his legs over the rickety bed as he heard the voices grow louder. He walked towards the other room, already knowing what the sight that would greet him would be.
Peeking from the doorway into the dimly lit room, he saw his father, drunk and swaying on his feet, as always, looming over his terrified mother. The man's face was contorted with fury.
Severus backed away slightly, scared. This was worse than usual. His father was holding a broken glass bottle threateningly, and Severus was scared that it would further harm his already frail mother.
She had been getting sicker and sicker lately, and Severus knew it was because of the terrible mess that her life with Tobias Snape was. The latter, of course, hardly cared about this, as long as he had his wife to use as a punching bag and personal housemaid.
Severus wanted nothing more than to go and stand in front of his father defiantly to prevent him from hitting her and screaming at her further. He had done this several times before. But tonight, for whatever reason, he feared the raging fire that was his father.
Just as he was about to somewhat hesitantly call out to his father to stop, he saw his mother sway and fall to the ground in a heap. His father's eyes widened at the sight for a split second, but then the older man shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
Severus ran to his mother's side. She was unconscious, barely breathing. Tears fell from his eyes as he looked around for her wand, some water or anything, that might ease her pain. He could find none.
He looked around once again, unwilling to leave her side while her breathing grew fainter. He called out to her, again and again, hoping she would reply.
She never did.
When morning came, he was still there, clutching her hand which was still holding her prized ring.
As he watched Potter walk away, he felt the life leaving him. His throat was burning from the venom, and he could feel it sapping the strength from the rest of his body. He closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him. He deserved it, after all. And if he was lucky, then maybe...Lily...
Nonetheless, he felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. He was scared of death. He hadn't been this scared for a long time. Since the last time he had seen someone die, in fact. Images of his mother, images that he would rather not see, began to float in his vision.
The ring hanging from the chain around his neck grew warm as the poison spread. He was in too much pain to pay attention to the sensation, however. He was nearly drifting off.
Until a soft, vaguely familiar voice brought him back to the edge of consciousness. His vision was very blurry, but he saw something white in front of him.
When it brushed against him, he realised it was hair. A person. A person who had come back to see him. To laugh at him perhaps.
But then he felt something being forced down his throat. Something that cooled the fiery poison rushing through his body. When it got to his chest, however, close to his heart, he felt a force. Almost as if there was a struggle of power between the antivenin and the venom.
Then, all of a sudden, whatever it was that wanted him dead, came back with a vengeance and his world turned black.
The next thing he knew was the bright lights. He was blinded when he tried to open his eyes. As his senses returned and he gained some control over his body, he also felt a wave of dulled pain tide over his entire body. Even in his hazy state, he knew it was far less than the pain he should have felt. He vaguely remembered the walls and ceiling of the place he was in. Not enough to place it, but enough to realise he was still alive, and that the war had been won, for the Death Eaters would not have saved him.
If he had had the use of his voice, he would have screamed. He wanted nothing more to do with this world.
As the realisation sunk in, Severus grew fearful. He remembered how cruel the wizarding world was. He knew he would not be welcome in it. Not after the war, not after everything he had done. He would be an old relic of a time they did not want to remember.
Unable to move anything, not even his hands to even claw at his own arms as he often did at times like this, he felt helpless and unwanted. A tear rolled down his cheek as he lay there.
A figure came into the range of his vision. He recognised the pale hair.
"Professor," Luna said as she approached him.
Severus suddenly felt a strange anger towards her. It was her fault he was still here.
"Miss… Lovegood…" he managed to rasp out, before she stopped him.
"I followed the Nargles to where you were," she said, replying to his unasked question. "They would be disappointed if, after all they did, you lost your voice for talking too much."
That startled him. He realised she knew he was not happy about what she had done. He remained silent for a while. She was looking at him with empathy in her eyes. He had not asked for her empathy. He had asked for peace.
The girl walked up to the table beside him, the bland wooden ones that St Mungo's could afford to have for each bed, and bent down. When she stood back up, she was holding a small, familiar trinket.
His eyes narrowed as he realised the ring was now broken, its stone removed and the band bent out of shape. He felt fury and loss build up in him.
He was a child again, sitting by his mother. She would be gone soon. It would be his father's fault. No, it would be that man's fault. He would never call him father again. He would also never see her again. Not her smile, not her warm comforting eyes...how would he get by? How would he survive Hogwarts? How would he survive living with an alcoholic? Alone?
All he left was the ring, that she prized highly, one of her only relics from her old life. She had clutched it so hard; it had become warm, a cruel contrast to her cold, almost blue hands…
And now? Now she had ruined it. He had nothing left.
"It was cursed," said a voice from the other side of the room. He looked up slowly and saw a Healer walk towards him.
The words she said did not register at first, in his mind. Cursed?
"What do you mean?" he rasped. The Healer looked at him warmly and a little sadly.
"The owner is cursed to die early, according to the Cursebreakers we spoke to."
Severus shook his head as much as he could, refusing to believe what she was saying.
"So when the snake bit you, the curse amplified the effects of the poison, making sure you would die. That's why the antivenin Miss Lovegood gave you was also not as effective as it should have been. Perhaps you didn't realise it, but the necklace must have grown warm from the effects of the magic..." She paused.
Severus frowned, letting everything sink in. "Not possible," he muttered softly. But a part of him, somewhere, knew she was right.
"At any rate, the antivenin saved your life, and kept the poison under control for long enough, till you could be brought here."
Luna nodded.
Severus closed his eyes and hissed in pain and frustration. All he had wanted was a swift end, coinciding with the end of the war.
The Healer was murmuring a few other things, mostly to Luna Lovegood. He was distracted, but he caught a few words here and there. Something about permanent scarring, and the fact that he was stable now.
Stable. He could have laughed out loud. His life was anything but stable, and he was sure that would continue even now that the war was over.
He began to plan it out. After he left the hospital, he would have to disappear. Glamour his appearance, and change his name...maybe brew something for his voice…
He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't realise the Healer had already left. Lovegood was looking at him with those half-lost eyes of hers.
"It's not whether you get knocked down, Professor, it's whether you get up," she said.
Severus closed his eyes and let a breath escape him. He had done a lot of the getting knocked down a bit. In fact, it had been his everything.
He had spent a whole life being bitter.
First, at Tobias Snape, for the sake of his mother. He spent years planning his revenge, only to have his chance taken away by a drug overdose that the man inflicted on himself. Then, James Potter and Lily, and the regret that came after. This was the thing that drove him for twenty years: guilt, and misery. And he let it take over his life.
He had been so ready for all of it to end. No, he had been ready for it to change.
And he didn't need to die for that change.
"Thank you," he said to her, just as tiredness overtook him and he fell back into a deep sleep, a sleep that was peaceful for the first time in years.