Like The Sky at Dusk
Chapter One:
Diagon Alley was nothing new to Severus; he'd been there countless times with his father. And yet, there was something very different about being there to buy school supplies.
Finally - no more endless succession of tutors until he was of age for hogwarts. No more Mrs. Millian, with her pintched nose and crooked glasses banging her cane ordering him to recite in Latin. Finally, a school, with other people his age. It was his ultimate chance to make his father proud.
Severus had taken a particular liking to Potions and The Dark Arts. Potions because it was the very art of magic as far as he was concerned. It was the personal touch in it, the need of refined skill and delicasy.
The only thing he could ever compare it to was a text. Spell casting was like reading a text: a story already written, the reader mearly relives it. But brewing a potion was like writing a text. The text is basicaly the same as all texts, accept each person refines, ajusts and personalizes it. This is Potions to Severus.
The Dark Arts had always fasinated him for two main reasons: The first being the fact Dark Arts were generaly forbidden, which always heald his intrest. The second was the vastness of the subject.
Arithmacy, Herbology, everyone knew about those things. Only the most skilled and educated perople knew the full extent of The Dark Arts, and he intended to unearth all the Dark Secrets of wizardry.
Of course, at the tender age of eleven, he never had any intention of using any of them, it was mearly to sadisfy his thirst for knowlage, to know that he knew them was enough.
He peered in through the window of Ollivander's Wand Shop. A wand. Oh he'd held wands before, his mothers when she'd let him, but to finally have his own wand was...
"Come along Severus", his father said, opening the door. His father was a tall man with a bushy black mustash and a large nose. His father was half French, though raised in England.
His father's father was English and had gone against tradition and married a French witch, a bit of a scandal at the time, but everyone was soon very accepting of her once they discoved her good liniage and wealth.
Severus' father often spoke to him as an equal, along with allowing him to assist with his magical workings from time to time. Holding things, acting as a second set of hands, another pair of eyes to check for mistakes, standing here, saying this and that. He knew his father concidered him a partner at all times until he made a mistake.
Severus quickly learned a single mistake could raise his father's temper like the wrath of Hell, which came down swift and hard. And thus, Severus never made the same mistake twice. His father expected perfection, and Severus delived no less.
The bell tinkled softly as they enterd the store. Severus noticed it was lined wall-to-wall with wands, leaving little space for movement. Mr. Olivander emerged from the back of the room, still in his days of youth.
His hair was dark and his eyes looked dead to Severus, lifeless, glazed almost. Average children might have been frightened, but it took a great deal more to bother Severus in the least.
Olivander came forward and shook his father's hand "Armand, a pleasure" he said. "Good day" his father counterd, not sounding very sinsear. "Your boy?" he asked, gesturing to Severus. "Oh no, I just thought i might take in a few beggar childern for the hell of it" He said.
Usually, Armand Snape was more sociable, but the daay had worn on far too long and he was in no mood for social casualties.
"Let's just get him a wand and be done with it" he said, rubbing his temples.
Olivander stood close to Severus, studing him. "He resembles you" he said at last.
"I should hope so, he is suppose to be my son" he said gritting his teeth. He needed to be calm, but he wanted this done with, he wanted to get home, ease the headache that was comming on.
As far as Severus could see, he looked nothing like his father accept for the same black hair, which Severus work cut short, at the nape of his neck, while his father's hung a bit farther, just beginning to wave. He also had his father's too-big-nose, but his father wore it better than he.
"Let's get to it, shall we?" he addressed Severus and handed him a wand.
Chapter One:
Diagon Alley was nothing new to Severus; he'd been there countless times with his father. And yet, there was something very different about being there to buy school supplies.
Finally - no more endless succession of tutors until he was of age for hogwarts. No more Mrs. Millian, with her pintched nose and crooked glasses banging her cane ordering him to recite in Latin. Finally, a school, with other people his age. It was his ultimate chance to make his father proud.
Severus had taken a particular liking to Potions and The Dark Arts. Potions because it was the very art of magic as far as he was concerned. It was the personal touch in it, the need of refined skill and delicasy.
The only thing he could ever compare it to was a text. Spell casting was like reading a text: a story already written, the reader mearly relives it. But brewing a potion was like writing a text. The text is basicaly the same as all texts, accept each person refines, ajusts and personalizes it. This is Potions to Severus.
The Dark Arts had always fasinated him for two main reasons: The first being the fact Dark Arts were generaly forbidden, which always heald his intrest. The second was the vastness of the subject.
Arithmacy, Herbology, everyone knew about those things. Only the most skilled and educated perople knew the full extent of The Dark Arts, and he intended to unearth all the Dark Secrets of wizardry.
Of course, at the tender age of eleven, he never had any intention of using any of them, it was mearly to sadisfy his thirst for knowlage, to know that he knew them was enough.
He peered in through the window of Ollivander's Wand Shop. A wand. Oh he'd held wands before, his mothers when she'd let him, but to finally have his own wand was...
"Come along Severus", his father said, opening the door. His father was a tall man with a bushy black mustash and a large nose. His father was half French, though raised in England.
His father's father was English and had gone against tradition and married a French witch, a bit of a scandal at the time, but everyone was soon very accepting of her once they discoved her good liniage and wealth.
Severus' father often spoke to him as an equal, along with allowing him to assist with his magical workings from time to time. Holding things, acting as a second set of hands, another pair of eyes to check for mistakes, standing here, saying this and that. He knew his father concidered him a partner at all times until he made a mistake.
Severus quickly learned a single mistake could raise his father's temper like the wrath of Hell, which came down swift and hard. And thus, Severus never made the same mistake twice. His father expected perfection, and Severus delived no less.
The bell tinkled softly as they enterd the store. Severus noticed it was lined wall-to-wall with wands, leaving little space for movement. Mr. Olivander emerged from the back of the room, still in his days of youth.
His hair was dark and his eyes looked dead to Severus, lifeless, glazed almost. Average children might have been frightened, but it took a great deal more to bother Severus in the least.
Olivander came forward and shook his father's hand "Armand, a pleasure" he said. "Good day" his father counterd, not sounding very sinsear. "Your boy?" he asked, gesturing to Severus. "Oh no, I just thought i might take in a few beggar childern for the hell of it" He said.
Usually, Armand Snape was more sociable, but the daay had worn on far too long and he was in no mood for social casualties.
"Let's just get him a wand and be done with it" he said, rubbing his temples.
Olivander stood close to Severus, studing him. "He resembles you" he said at last.
"I should hope so, he is suppose to be my son" he said gritting his teeth. He needed to be calm, but he wanted this done with, he wanted to get home, ease the headache that was comming on.
As far as Severus could see, he looked nothing like his father accept for the same black hair, which Severus work cut short, at the nape of his neck, while his father's hung a bit farther, just beginning to wave. He also had his father's too-big-nose, but his father wore it better than he.
"Let's get to it, shall we?" he addressed Severus and handed him a wand.