Hello everyone yet again.
So.... you do not appreciate teasers, hmm? Alright, then here you go. First chapter, and already it will smell of trouble, just because you like it.
Bonus!: In this story, Lily Potter's narrative intertwines with that of Snape's. After all, it is not normal for Snape to always be in the middle of everything.
As for my reviewers:
Tabitha: I'll try to give you more than just a few paragraphs then. But you know, my writing is analogous to my reviews. What can I say? It's in my Slytherin nature to demand a reward. hehe.
Angel Baby: Info on Harry's career will have to be issued shortly anyway. Stay tuned.
Rickman's Girl: Some things are bound to be predictable-- it would not make sense for the daughter of Harry Potter, who raised a girl with all the Gryffindor standards, coming from a line of all gryffindors, not to end up in gryffindor. Just like it is not normal for Snape to become Headmaster, not just yet at least, I think.
Lady Lunar Phoenix: I am afraid that that is all that is flowing abundantly, dear.
Rhianna: Ask and ye shall receive.
SPECIAL REQUEST: I have lots of things on my mind lately, and so I might not be able to think too much on the plot (though this one too has a beginning, middle and end already). If you want to help me, please leave extensive comments on what you would like to see described. It helps me a lot think up twists and turns. So if you could... I'd be indebted.
Now on with the story
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~~~~ Severus Snape ~~~~
Monday, Double Potions, 1rst years Gryffindors and Slytherins. Honestly. Doesn't Minerva ever -think-?? Although inter-house rivalry is considerably less than in Potter's time, it is still quite alive and well, like red hot coals of a dwindling fire, still scorching and capable of damage. All that is needed is a spark to make the flames rise up again.
That woman is so unintelligent at times.
I open the doors by slamming them-- a habit I never will shake off really. I don't feel like trying. Slamming doors is dramatic enough for entering the dungeons and silencing the chatter. I am an old dog really. I like my old tricks.
As I walk up to my desk I start my usual first-year introduction.
"There will be no inane wand flicking in this class. There will be no incessant chatter, and if you value your hair, skin, eyes and general appendages you will respect both me and your cauldron. I do not expect you to excel in this class-- it holds no impressive lightning, flamboyant sparkles or instant rewards for your efforts. Those few that will have the perseverence and brains to do well though, shall have a gift that only I can teach you. I can teach you to brew life, bottle fame, even put a stopper to death-- " I pause for a while for effect, and looks around me somberly, towering as much as possible over the little girls and boys that hold life's true potential in them. Most of them are looking at me wide eyed and slack jawed.
I look especially at Lily Potter-- Harry's child. She is looking at me with a slight smile playing at her lips, her blue-green eyes sparkling with excitement. Of course she is not intimidated. How could she be, after all, with all the history I and her father have? Even if that was not true, how can you be intimidated by a guy that sends you special prank potions for your birthday?
I knew that sending the Million Colour Polka Dot Skin potion had been a mistake the moment I sent that owl off. I continue with my speech.
"-- yet as with all great gifts, you have to pay a price. In your case, the price is 7 years with me. Keep in mind that I have nothing personal against you, nor am I particularly interested in traumatising you for life-- but if you survive me unscathed, then there will be little in this world and others that you won't be able to face."
They are still looking at me like owls in sudden bright lights. Some of them grin. Most of the Slytherins puff out their chests in pride. The past decade I have been working hard to try and restore to Slytherin House the honour and prestige it once had. So far, there has been satisfactory progress.
I turn and write the very first potion they will learn to brew on the board. I smile to myself. Let the games begin.
~~~~ Lily Potter ~~~~
I can't believe that I am finally here! After all the stories Mom and Dad keep telling me, I am finally sitting in the same desks they were sitting, and I am being taught by the same professors that they were taught by! Merlin's beard, I could fly right now!
I am most curious about Professor Snape. I barely know the man, although he diligently keeps sending me birthday presents. I always anticipate his gifts. They are so unpredictable! They are always some kind of Potion, too. I am already in love with Potions. When I grow up I want to be a Potions Mistress. Then I'll brew tons of Iridescent Hair Potions, or Polka Dot Potions and slip it in the dog's food. Or in daddy's soup.
I am especially glad that I got Double Potions first thing on Monday. I keep fidgeting in class, anticipating the tall towering man. I can't forget how he looked at me at the Sorting. And his nose was so big, and hooked like some bird of prey's! I wasn't certain if he was glad or irritated to see me there. However his gaze wasn't chilling, as daddy said it used to be when dad was a student. And he is so -tall-. I feel like a midget already.
He enters with the slamming of the doors that everyone keeps talking about, and glides through in a flurry of swishy pitch black robes. He talks in a slightly lazy voice, drawing out the s', savouring every word. The class falls silent as he turns to face the class from his place beside his desk, looming like a tall black spectre. His eyes take in everything as he speaks. That is slightly uncanny. Can he really see everything, understand everything that is going on?
"... even put a stopper to death--" he stops his mesmerising speech abruptly, and his glance becomes even more piercing and appraising. It falls on each and every one of us. And every one of us fidgets under his relentless appraising glare. When my eyes meet his, my whole skin crawls. He expects more from me. It is only obvious. I smile a little nervously. But I am glad to take up the challenge.
My dad always takes up the challenge. And so I do as well.
His eyes release me and sweep over the classroom again, as he finishes his talk. Although I know there is no reason to fear him, I am uncomfortable. I know that he expects more from me. Perhaps because I am Lily Potter. Perhaps because he expects me to have my mother's affinity to Herbology and Potions. Or just because the name Potter is emotionally charged, as Uncle Remus always says.
He writes wickedly fast! I strain to keep up. He doesn't wait for everyone to be finished to erase the board, although there is no reason to do it-- he doesn't need to write more. He sneers at those who groan.
"Those that dilly dallied, will have to do without the much-needed notes. Of course, should those students not brew a perfect draft, they will not receive acceptable marks."
Now I know why Uncle Ron still calls him a git in private.
We get out cauldrons and start to brew a simple tonic potion. There are less than 6 ingredients, but they all need to be cut up and quartered perfectly. Professor Snape starts to waft between the desks, examining our progress.
~~~~ Severus Snape ~~~~
The little Potter flashes me an irked glance, as she hurries to slice up her roots in neat, paper thin round slices. She is already annoyed at me. Brilliant. I watch her as I walk past her desk. Her hand is sure and unwavering, the knife neatly arraying the thready pieces of the root. She then proceeds to grind the next ingredient to a fine dust. She will grow to be an excellent brewer if she intends to be this meticulous in everything. Of course, she doesn't have to know that yet.
"Miss Potter, I would pay the same amount of attention to my cauldron as I do to the preparation of my ingredients. You are not supposed to let the water boil. Such frivolity could in more dangerous potions cost you your cauldron or your lab. 5 points from Gryffindor." I tell her, allowing my voice to be reprimanding. She flushes and mutters something resembling a 'yes, professor' and lowers the fire under the cauldron.
I then hurry to the Slytherin section of the class.
"Mr. Pisders, you cannot possibly call this hack job a decent slicing. 5 points from Slytherin for the mess. Now retrieve a new root and start over." I snap at the marroon haired boy that splutters an apology and hurries along to do as I say.
It feels great to be in Potions.
~~~~ Lily Potter ~~~~
"Bottle your potions and label them. We shall test them in the next class. Dismissed." Professor Snape says indifferently and watches us file past. The class was not entirely cheerful I have to admit. But it was so demanding I had no time to feel distressed. I am amazed that once out the dungeon door, I feel my heart beating strongly.
I got an adrenaline rush while brewing a crummy tonic.
Weird. But interesting.
"Hi! You are the Boy-Who-Lived's daughter, right?"
I turn around.
"Well he is hardly a boy now, but he does live." I say, quoting my mum's reply to some pestering reporter wizard. I realise I am speaking to an older girl, that is grinning in delight.
"I'm pleased to meet you!" she thrusts her hand at me, and I have to shake. "I am Nelly Fudge! My dad's the Minister of Magic!" she adds with excessive gusto.
"Um... pleasure's all mine, I guess." I say rather uncertain. She is far too bouncy. "Erh... you are not a first year, are you?"
"Oh my no! I am a third year. Got sorted into Hufflepuff, so that's why I didn't have a chance to meet you earlier. We got Potions with the git now." she grins at first and makes a face at the mention of the 'git'. I am slightly irritated. Okay, he is not the easiest professor in class, but I got excited in it. That means that the class is good.
However, my dad's stories about Draco Malfoy and his family have taught me not to voice my opinion about stuff immediately. Nelly chatters on.
"I hope to see you at some break or at study time. I am sure I can help you with all sorts of lessons. I am really good at them!"
"I bet you study a lot." I smile at her. She nodded excitedly.
"I do. I'll see you soon, eh, what is your name?"
"It's Lily, Nelly." I say dryly. It sucks when people talk to you so excitedly and don't even care to know your first name. Like 'Potter' is all that is needed. I turn to go, but she holds me by the arm.
"So what is your favourite subject? I bet it's DADA, like your dad's." she chirps. I sigh dejectedly. Is there noone to rescue me from this chatterbox? I am ready to bust her bubble.
"Actually, Nelly, no, I think my favourite lesson is P.."
"There you are Lily! Come, we will be late for DADA!"
Thank Merlin. My rescue. It comes in the form of Nigel Veris, a Ravenclaw friend I made on the train. He is the son of the Divination professor, Pythia Veris, and an all around easygoing fellow. I grin at him.
"You're right, Nigel! Bye Nelly and sorry I can't stick around!" I toss over my shoulder at the brown haired Hufflepuff that is staring at me with a slight scowl. I bet she isn't used to being cut off when she talks. Perhaps because she's the Minister's daughter. Oh well. Tough luck there.
As I run along with Nigel, I hear Professor Snape's irritated voice:
"Well, Miss Fudge, important as you may think you are because of your lineage, I shall not tolerate tardiness. 10 points from Hufflepuff for chatting inanely when class has already come in session.
I smirked gleefully.
~~~~ Severus Snape ~~~~
I have been making conscious effort never to single out any particular child to terrorise or belittle again. I shall not repeat Longbottom's mistake and turn anyone into some category of Death Eater unwittingly. But it is bloody hard with Nelly Fudge. She has acquired all her father's drawbacks and multiplied his frivolity and narrowmindedness.
And she's dreadful in potions. Thankfully she is not like Neville. She only melts one per week.
After the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw third years rush out of my classroom as fast as possible (40 points lower for Ravenclaw and 35 for Hufflepuff), I retire to my office. I positively refused to perch up in a tower like the Deputy Headmaster should. I do not like heights. Actually I have had an irritating fear of heights ever since I was a child. I like good, solid earth and the dungeons have always been the epitome of safety and warmth for me, ironic as that may sound... but not irrational: Safely burrowed in the earth, there is no wind of malice that can move me or threaten me, there is no way I can fall.
I settle down behind my desk and light a fire-- after my last adventure when Harry Potter was still a student there, I tend to be susceptible to cold, and I need to have a good fire in my quarters so as not to shiver. I try to focus on my class schedule, and contemplate doing so over a glass of good red wine, when Minerva's head pops through the flames.
"Severus, come quickly. Remus found something... disturbing."
I sigh and abandon all thoughts for a quiet night. I stand up and go to the fireplace.
"Stand aside."
I find myself in Minerva's office. After 10 years, it still has traces of Albus, but it is starting to be more Minerva than Albus, if that makes sense. I see Lupin there, holding an open box and looking at it with alarm and sadness. I feel a creeping apprehension, an instict that hadn't been triggered the last decade...
Something foul this way comes. I approach reluctantly to the box and question Lupin with my eyes.
"I was out in the forbidden forest to catch some pixies for DADA..." he is saying without any emotion in his voice, with eyes deep with memories and dread. I look into the box.
It contains dead pixies.
Dead pixies with their wings clipped off at the shoulders.
This is worse than I thought.
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there! Long chapter, Setting of first line of trouble. Opinions, reviews. I need them. I fuel my creativity with them. So fuel me, please.