Messiah: Overture, Pt. 2
Again, don't own 'em, don't sue me.
Okay, it's more little Severus 'cute-as-a-button' Snape - I confess I can't wait for him to get mean . . . . . to address a common thread in many of my reviews (by the way THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU, KEEP IT UP!!), I realize that in the book Snape is most likely a pureblood, I just thought this was a new idea worth exploring, so for all you skeptics out there, just go with it for now, I promise it will make more sense later. So, without further ado.....
* * *
Severus stared out the rather grimy window of the latest house into which his father had moved them, snow drifts rising like ghosts all around. Christmas Eve had come, and with it Severus' birthday, but he wasn't feeling particularly festive. He hated the cold - the only reason he was near the window in the first place was so that he could sit on the radiator.
Thinking of his birthday, though, he couldn't help but wonder if the letter from the magical school his father had mentioned would be coming. He was alternately excited and terrified at the thought of leaving home and training to be a wizard. Right now, he tended to be terrified; between the recent move and the prospect of leaving his father later that year, he was on edge, and consequently nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt movement about his legs.
Their extremely old, extremely evil cat, Lucifer, twinkled up at him malevolently. The ill-tempered feline clawed Severus every chance he got, ever since he had been a child. Severus contemplated, not for the first time, giving him a good swift kick to send him on his way, but was stopped by a notion that had intrigued him since the previous summer. When he had found out his mother had been a witch, he suspected that his heretofore merely annoying pet in fact had some magical quality about him. He had, after all, belonged to his mother.
At the moment, however, Lucifer was not looking particularly magical, leaning against the radiator, settling down for a nap. Severus, who never failed to feel uncomfortable in the animal's presence, reluctantly left the warmth his seat afforded and traipsed off down the hall to his father's study.
When he arrived, however, he found a note from his father that he had gone out to meet his partner on urgent business. This struck him as altogether strange, but then, nothing about his family was particularly normal. He was just about to go and settle down with one of the books his father had given him for his birthday (all having belonged to his mother and having something to do with wizardry; he was particularly keen to try out the book of spells) when he noticed another book on top of the wardrobe.
Severus knew from experience that this was where his father kept his mother's things. The book was bound in dark brown leather, the corner slightly off the edge. He stood on his father's chair and took it down, wondering why his father hadn't given it to him along with the others. He blew the dust from its cover and read:
Korelevsky's Book of Curses for Every Occasion
Dmitri R. Korelevsky, trans. Millicent Olbruck
Oh. Right.
His fingers trembling, he turned the pages, slowly. A curse to make hair fall out. A curse to make hair grow out of control. A curse to make your wand shoot slugs, or slime, or a live grizzly bear. Severus was vaguely aware of a silly grin beginning to spread across his face. He tore himself away from the book, raced to his room, grabbed one of the books his father had given him (a rather boring looking history of magic), and put it in place of the one he had just taken down. He raced back to the front room where he had left Lucifer earlier, shut the door, bolted it, and sat down with his back to it.
Lucifer opened one green eye, then shut it again. Severus opened the book to a random page. Crystalida. A Curse to Freeze Your Foes. He eyed the sleeping cat, growing more eager by the moment. Then, his face fell.
He would need a wand, which he most certainly did not have. But perhaps . . ..
With some difficulty he unbolted the door and ran for his father's study. He almost broke his neck hopping up onto the swivel chair and peering over to look for a dusty cigar box that he knew would still be there. He pulled it down and opened it.
It contained several pictures of his mother, which he paused to look at (and all of which, he noticed, seemed to be looking at him rather disapprovingly at the moment), several phials of evil smelling liquid, what looked like a small crystal top that began humming loudly as soon as he touched it, and, beneath it all, as he had hoped, a wand. It was about 12 inches long, made of some dark, highly polished wood. He touched the handle, thinking that his mother must have done the same, long ago. He snapped the box shut, put it back in its place, and ran back down the hall to where he had left the book.
Lucifer was no longer asleep, but was sniffing the book suspiciously when Severus returned. When Lucifer saw the wand and the not altogether wholesome glint in Severus' eye, he sat down and fixed the boy with a reproving glance, although Severus could swear he looked a little nervous.
He held the wand in his right hand, uncertain of how he was supposed to grip it, saying the curse over and over again in his head to get used to it. He took aim at the cat, took a breath, and said, "Crystalida."
The wand did a funny kind of jerk, and Severus could feel it grow cold in his grasp. Okay, let's try again.
"Crystalida!" he said again, with more force, and a jet of blue light shot from the wand, freezing in the air as it went, the force of it knocking him back against the door. Lucifer jumped away just in time and the ice hit the window, glazing it over like spun sugar. Severus looked at the wand in his hands, feeling a strange sense of power he never had before. Grinning, he flipped through the book.
* * *
By that afternoon he had learned not only Crystalida, but also a curse to drench your opponent (he spent a half an hour mopping up the floor), a curse to conjure moths (which he herded with some difficulty out the melted window), and a curse to temporarily blind your opponent (Lucifer stumbled about the room for several minutes, having finally been too slow). He was about to start on Rictusempra, the tickling curse, when he heard his father's car pull up through the howling winds. Severus hastily slammed the book shut and carried it and the wand up to his room, shoving them under his bed. He then walked as calmly as he could down the stairs to greet his father.
"Hey, Sev! Sorry I had to skip out like that but, you know, urgent business and all," his father winked, trying to conceal a large package behind his back.
"Right," said Severus confidentially, who had long since ceased to believe in Father Christmas, humoring his father.
"So what have you been doing with yourself this afternoon?"
Severus gulped.
"Bit of reading."
"Oh, good," his father said distractedly as he hauled the package into his study with some difficulty.
"I'll just continue on, shall I?"
"Right," came his father's muffled reply, followed by muted cursing as he dropped something large on his foot. Severus turned around and quietly mounted the stairs, trying to contain the impulse that would send him bounding back up.
* * *
Much later that night, after dinner and after his father had "gone to bed", suggesting he do the same, Severus lay flat on his stomach, under his bed, reading the book by flashlight, wrapped in a quilt. He noticed that, as the book went on, the more destructive the curses became. Curses like Rictusempra gave way to ones like Embalmata, which would mummify your opponent alive. He closed his eyes and imagined it. He felt like he could do any of these, right now, if he had to. This is so easy, he thought. I hope everything else is this easy. At this rate I'll be a great wizard in no time.
His happy reverie was interrupted by a loud rap on the window. He jumped, hitting his head on the underside of the bed. Great wizard indeed, he thought, rubbing his head. It was silly of course; there was a huge tree outside his window whose branches knocked against the window whenever there was a breeze. He went back to the book eagerly.
Several minutes later, however, the rapping returned, more purposeful this time. Severus unwound himself from the quilt and slid out from under the bed. He went to the window, pressed his face against the glass. A pair of huge, golden eyes stared back.
Severus jumped back in fright, backing towards the far wall. A large talon rapped the window again, followed by an impatient hoot. He approached the window slowly, regarding the enormous screech owl that was evidently waiting to be let in. It had a leather case strapped to its leg, which it shook meaningfully at him. Severus opened the window with some difficulty, and stood staring at the enormous bird. It stuck out its leg again, shook it impatiently, and looked at him with some displeasure. Severus bent down, carefully undoing the clasp of the case, drawing out a rolled piece of parchment. The owl hooted happily and jumped back out into the snowy night. Severus shut the window and sat down on his bed, unrolling the parchment.
24 December 1969
Dear Mr. Snape:
We have received notice that a magical event occurred at 3:17 PM in your place of residence this afternoon. Please note that underage wizards are forbidden from practicing magic without the supervision of certified wizards. Any further infraction may result in a fine. Happy Holidays.
Sincerely,
Cletus Brint
IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE
Ministry of Magic
Severus set the parchment aside, shaking. If his father had got wind of this. . . . he didn't want to think about it. All right, he thought, no more magic till school. He took the book from under the bed, and was about to shut it when he noticed an inscription on the copyright page. In harsh green script he could make out,
Dearest Bathsheba,
Enjoy! And remember to use wisely. I've circled a few useful little tricks. Happy Birthday!
Severus flipped through the pages, noting the circled numbers - some of the more gruesome curses, near the back of the book. He couldn't imagine his mother using these on anyone, even though his memory of her depended solely on his father's. He turned back to the inscriptions, trying to make out the signature, which reminded him of a doctor's scrawl. S. . . he read, Se . . .Sev. Severus.
He stared at the page, nonplussed. His name. But why?
He longed to run downstairs and ask his father, but to do so would be to admit he had taken the book. No, he thought. Maybe at school, someone will know. He would simply have to wait till then.
* * *
Ooh, I love a cliffhanger. Really though. Umm, I had to guess at Snape's age, I think it's okay . . . please review? Pretty please? I'll be your bestest friend . . . .
Again, don't own 'em, don't sue me.
Okay, it's more little Severus 'cute-as-a-button' Snape - I confess I can't wait for him to get mean . . . . . to address a common thread in many of my reviews (by the way THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU, KEEP IT UP!!), I realize that in the book Snape is most likely a pureblood, I just thought this was a new idea worth exploring, so for all you skeptics out there, just go with it for now, I promise it will make more sense later. So, without further ado.....
* * *
Severus stared out the rather grimy window of the latest house into which his father had moved them, snow drifts rising like ghosts all around. Christmas Eve had come, and with it Severus' birthday, but he wasn't feeling particularly festive. He hated the cold - the only reason he was near the window in the first place was so that he could sit on the radiator.
Thinking of his birthday, though, he couldn't help but wonder if the letter from the magical school his father had mentioned would be coming. He was alternately excited and terrified at the thought of leaving home and training to be a wizard. Right now, he tended to be terrified; between the recent move and the prospect of leaving his father later that year, he was on edge, and consequently nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt movement about his legs.
Their extremely old, extremely evil cat, Lucifer, twinkled up at him malevolently. The ill-tempered feline clawed Severus every chance he got, ever since he had been a child. Severus contemplated, not for the first time, giving him a good swift kick to send him on his way, but was stopped by a notion that had intrigued him since the previous summer. When he had found out his mother had been a witch, he suspected that his heretofore merely annoying pet in fact had some magical quality about him. He had, after all, belonged to his mother.
At the moment, however, Lucifer was not looking particularly magical, leaning against the radiator, settling down for a nap. Severus, who never failed to feel uncomfortable in the animal's presence, reluctantly left the warmth his seat afforded and traipsed off down the hall to his father's study.
When he arrived, however, he found a note from his father that he had gone out to meet his partner on urgent business. This struck him as altogether strange, but then, nothing about his family was particularly normal. He was just about to go and settle down with one of the books his father had given him for his birthday (all having belonged to his mother and having something to do with wizardry; he was particularly keen to try out the book of spells) when he noticed another book on top of the wardrobe.
Severus knew from experience that this was where his father kept his mother's things. The book was bound in dark brown leather, the corner slightly off the edge. He stood on his father's chair and took it down, wondering why his father hadn't given it to him along with the others. He blew the dust from its cover and read:
Korelevsky's Book of Curses for Every Occasion
Dmitri R. Korelevsky, trans. Millicent Olbruck
Oh. Right.
His fingers trembling, he turned the pages, slowly. A curse to make hair fall out. A curse to make hair grow out of control. A curse to make your wand shoot slugs, or slime, or a live grizzly bear. Severus was vaguely aware of a silly grin beginning to spread across his face. He tore himself away from the book, raced to his room, grabbed one of the books his father had given him (a rather boring looking history of magic), and put it in place of the one he had just taken down. He raced back to the front room where he had left Lucifer earlier, shut the door, bolted it, and sat down with his back to it.
Lucifer opened one green eye, then shut it again. Severus opened the book to a random page. Crystalida. A Curse to Freeze Your Foes. He eyed the sleeping cat, growing more eager by the moment. Then, his face fell.
He would need a wand, which he most certainly did not have. But perhaps . . ..
With some difficulty he unbolted the door and ran for his father's study. He almost broke his neck hopping up onto the swivel chair and peering over to look for a dusty cigar box that he knew would still be there. He pulled it down and opened it.
It contained several pictures of his mother, which he paused to look at (and all of which, he noticed, seemed to be looking at him rather disapprovingly at the moment), several phials of evil smelling liquid, what looked like a small crystal top that began humming loudly as soon as he touched it, and, beneath it all, as he had hoped, a wand. It was about 12 inches long, made of some dark, highly polished wood. He touched the handle, thinking that his mother must have done the same, long ago. He snapped the box shut, put it back in its place, and ran back down the hall to where he had left the book.
Lucifer was no longer asleep, but was sniffing the book suspiciously when Severus returned. When Lucifer saw the wand and the not altogether wholesome glint in Severus' eye, he sat down and fixed the boy with a reproving glance, although Severus could swear he looked a little nervous.
He held the wand in his right hand, uncertain of how he was supposed to grip it, saying the curse over and over again in his head to get used to it. He took aim at the cat, took a breath, and said, "Crystalida."
The wand did a funny kind of jerk, and Severus could feel it grow cold in his grasp. Okay, let's try again.
"Crystalida!" he said again, with more force, and a jet of blue light shot from the wand, freezing in the air as it went, the force of it knocking him back against the door. Lucifer jumped away just in time and the ice hit the window, glazing it over like spun sugar. Severus looked at the wand in his hands, feeling a strange sense of power he never had before. Grinning, he flipped through the book.
* * *
By that afternoon he had learned not only Crystalida, but also a curse to drench your opponent (he spent a half an hour mopping up the floor), a curse to conjure moths (which he herded with some difficulty out the melted window), and a curse to temporarily blind your opponent (Lucifer stumbled about the room for several minutes, having finally been too slow). He was about to start on Rictusempra, the tickling curse, when he heard his father's car pull up through the howling winds. Severus hastily slammed the book shut and carried it and the wand up to his room, shoving them under his bed. He then walked as calmly as he could down the stairs to greet his father.
"Hey, Sev! Sorry I had to skip out like that but, you know, urgent business and all," his father winked, trying to conceal a large package behind his back.
"Right," said Severus confidentially, who had long since ceased to believe in Father Christmas, humoring his father.
"So what have you been doing with yourself this afternoon?"
Severus gulped.
"Bit of reading."
"Oh, good," his father said distractedly as he hauled the package into his study with some difficulty.
"I'll just continue on, shall I?"
"Right," came his father's muffled reply, followed by muted cursing as he dropped something large on his foot. Severus turned around and quietly mounted the stairs, trying to contain the impulse that would send him bounding back up.
* * *
Much later that night, after dinner and after his father had "gone to bed", suggesting he do the same, Severus lay flat on his stomach, under his bed, reading the book by flashlight, wrapped in a quilt. He noticed that, as the book went on, the more destructive the curses became. Curses like Rictusempra gave way to ones like Embalmata, which would mummify your opponent alive. He closed his eyes and imagined it. He felt like he could do any of these, right now, if he had to. This is so easy, he thought. I hope everything else is this easy. At this rate I'll be a great wizard in no time.
His happy reverie was interrupted by a loud rap on the window. He jumped, hitting his head on the underside of the bed. Great wizard indeed, he thought, rubbing his head. It was silly of course; there was a huge tree outside his window whose branches knocked against the window whenever there was a breeze. He went back to the book eagerly.
Several minutes later, however, the rapping returned, more purposeful this time. Severus unwound himself from the quilt and slid out from under the bed. He went to the window, pressed his face against the glass. A pair of huge, golden eyes stared back.
Severus jumped back in fright, backing towards the far wall. A large talon rapped the window again, followed by an impatient hoot. He approached the window slowly, regarding the enormous screech owl that was evidently waiting to be let in. It had a leather case strapped to its leg, which it shook meaningfully at him. Severus opened the window with some difficulty, and stood staring at the enormous bird. It stuck out its leg again, shook it impatiently, and looked at him with some displeasure. Severus bent down, carefully undoing the clasp of the case, drawing out a rolled piece of parchment. The owl hooted happily and jumped back out into the snowy night. Severus shut the window and sat down on his bed, unrolling the parchment.
24 December 1969
Dear Mr. Snape:
We have received notice that a magical event occurred at 3:17 PM in your place of residence this afternoon. Please note that underage wizards are forbidden from practicing magic without the supervision of certified wizards. Any further infraction may result in a fine. Happy Holidays.
Sincerely,
Cletus Brint
IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE
Ministry of Magic
Severus set the parchment aside, shaking. If his father had got wind of this. . . . he didn't want to think about it. All right, he thought, no more magic till school. He took the book from under the bed, and was about to shut it when he noticed an inscription on the copyright page. In harsh green script he could make out,
Dearest Bathsheba,
Enjoy! And remember to use wisely. I've circled a few useful little tricks. Happy Birthday!
Severus flipped through the pages, noting the circled numbers - some of the more gruesome curses, near the back of the book. He couldn't imagine his mother using these on anyone, even though his memory of her depended solely on his father's. He turned back to the inscriptions, trying to make out the signature, which reminded him of a doctor's scrawl. S. . . he read, Se . . .Sev. Severus.
He stared at the page, nonplussed. His name. But why?
He longed to run downstairs and ask his father, but to do so would be to admit he had taken the book. No, he thought. Maybe at school, someone will know. He would simply have to wait till then.
* * *
Ooh, I love a cliffhanger. Really though. Umm, I had to guess at Snape's age, I think it's okay . . . please review? Pretty please? I'll be your bestest friend . . . .