Chapter 5: Cats and owls
Harry rummaged his pockets for a handkerchief. When he found one, crumpled but unused, he offered it to Hermione who accepted it gratefully. None of them dared to utter a sound. When he looked back into the hallway he saw that Mrs. Weasley had sat down, pale in the face, leaning against her husband much like her daughter on the stairs was leaning against her brother. In another chair sat Lupin, nibbling nervously at the skin beside the nail of his left index finger. He looked decidedly anxious.
Inside the bubble short, clip-like scenes flashed by. The old Snape trying to drag his screaming son into the library. Fights in an immaculately clean kitchen, during which the father shouted a lot at both, wife and son. A change of location. Something that looked like a dark cellar – or a dungeon. Things slowed down and voices became discernible again.
Many of the books had obviously been moved from the room upstairs into the cellar, as well as a table and two chairs. In the right corner of the room a cauldron simmered over a fireplace and all kinds of jars and tins lined the shelves there. The boy was older now, at least six, but still surprisingly small. His hair had grown and kept falling into his face. With an impatient wave he swiped it back behind his ears while dissecting something that looked disturbingly like a kitten. His father sat at the other end of the table, writing labels and putting them on freshly filled jars.
"Father?" The voice was so quiet that it was almost inaudible. "Sir?"
The old Snape raised his head and fixed his cold eyes on his son. "What? Are you feeling nauseous again? Do you want to take another break?" He hadn't said it, but there was a definite threat that this should better not be the reason for the interruption.
"No, I'm fine. And I'm almost done", the boy added hastily, holding up a blood-dripping organ and daring to show a proud little smile. His father nodded and bent back over the labels again.
"What is it, then?"
"I was wondering, sir … I'm almost seven by now and …." His voiced trailed off and the little courage he had been able to muster obviously threatened to leave him. Quickly he drew a deep breath and said "I was wondering when I would be starting school, sir."
Without looking up his father replied "What do you think this is, son? And you have started already two years ago."
The small blade stopped slicing muscles and sinews, even though the boy's head stayed bent over the dead kitten.
"I always assumed I would attend the normal school, like the other children. At least for the first few years, before going off to …."
"Your mother and I have decided that it's better for you not to mix with muggle children, even though other wizarding families don't seem to mind."
He stood up, strode over to the shelve, placed the labelled jar on an empty spot and then turned to ruffle his son's hair.
"You have shown the first signs of magical talent so early, Severus, it would be a crime not to focus on that."
For the first time his voice seemed to hold something like pride and he even found an encouraging smile for the boy who was just carefully readjusting his dishevelled shock of unkempt hair.
"Besides, what do you want to learn in a muggle school? Reading? Writing? Calculations? You could most likely lecture those dim-witted muggle-teachers."
The man chuckled silently to himself as if he had just made an exceedingly funny joke.
"But Susanna went to school when she was …"
The boy had no chance to finish the sentence for his father had already grabbed him by the collar of his well-worn and untidy little robes. Their faces only inches away from each other the man whispered in a deadly voice "I told you never to mention her name again. And I'm pretty sure I told you more than once. Does your memory need refreshing?"
Without waiting for an answer he took the boy's right hand and dunked it into the cauldron's simmering contents. The child bit his lip to keep from screaming out loud. A little whimpering sound escaped him nevertheless.
"You will finish with this one and prepare the next. Then you may come up and let your mother have a look at your hand."
With that his father marched out of the dungeons, leaving the door open and whistling silently to himself while climbing up the stairs.
Biting back the tears that clearly were threatening to overcome him young Snape put the attained cat-organs into empty jars, filled them up with liquid, wrote the labels and placed them carefully on the edge of the table. Then he walked over to a basket in the corner near the fireplace, opened the lid with his burnt right hand and reached inside with his left. Without watching he pulled out another kitten, set it on the tabletop and pointed his father's spare wand at it.
"Avada Kedavra", he said with a slightly cracked voice. The kitten fell over without a sound. Still biting his lip he turned the tiny body tenderly on its back, took up the blade again and started cutting.
Harry heard a retching sound coming from the direction where he presumed Tonks was leaning against the wall. There was no time, however, to watch the others' reactions too closely, because new images were already forming, and this time Harry recognized the scenery. This was Diagon Alley.
A presumably eleven-year-old Severus Snape was walking along the street at his mother's hand. His father was nowhere to be seen, which might have been the reason for the boy's relaxed posture and the big smile on his face. His features were different somehow, and not just because he had grown quite a bit. It seemed that his nose had been broken at least once and nobody had cared to fix it properly. Right now he was desperately trying to pull his mother towards Eyelops Owl Emporium. She, however, seemed to have other plans.
"No, Severus, first things first. We will buy your books now and while I stock up on your father's potions supplies you will stay at Ollivanders, choosing your wand."
"Do I have to go alone, mother?"
The boy seemed to be absolutely horrified by that idea, yet his mother was too determined to give in to his big frightened eyes and the hand that grabbed hers tightly.
"Yes, you have to, and no discussion. Come on, Severus, you are a big boy by now. You will be leaving for your first year in Hogwarts in a couple of weeks and there you'll have to find your way on your own as well."
She pulled her scowling child after her and into Flourish and Blotts. Once inside she handed a familiar looking list over to the man behind the counter and then turned around, walking through the shop slowly, scanning the titles of the books closest to her. Suddenly she gave a happy little shriek, dashed into a dark corner of the shop and returned with a triumphant smile, cradling an enormous volume in her arms.
"Your father has been looking for this for ages", she explained breathlessly as she showed the cover to her son. He gave the book a half-hearted glance, his mind presumably still torn between the highly frightening prospect of having to face Mr. Ollivander alone and the highly enjoyable prospect of buying an owl. His mother added her precious catch to the pile of books on the counter, paid, packed up and left the store. Hurriedly he followed her.
Their next stop was in front of the shabby-looking place that sold the best wands in all of England – Ollivanders.
"Here you go; you shouldn't need more than that." With that his mother pressed a few golden shimmering coins into the boy's hand.
"I will pick you up here when I'm done. Wait for me inside or out here, I don't mind, but don't go anywhere else. Is that clear, Severus?"
The boy nodded, gazing longingly after his mother as she strode up the street again, her hair shining in the sun, her curls dancing with every step. He sighed, put his hand on the door handle, sighed once more and entered the shop.
A tinkling bell sounded and nearly made him jump out of his skin. Guardedly he looked around the tiny room, stuffed with narrow boxes and filled with a strange dusty smell. From behind one of the huge piles he heard a soft voice.
"Young Severus Snape, I presume?"
A white-haired head with pale, almost colourless eyes appeared around the corner of the towering boxes, followed by a small and thin yet upright body.
"I am happy to see that, even though your father is using a Gregorovitch creation himself by now, he decided for you to buy your wand here. Very happy indeed."
The constant smile on Mr. Ollivander's face seemed to unnerve the young boy, because he started fidgeting from one foot to the other. The old wizard had noticed, because he said "Ah, well, well, there's no need to become nervous. All young wizards have to be chosen by their wands and until now everyone has survived."
He blinked with one of those misty eyes and tempted the anxious boy into a smile. Together they went into the process of measuring the future wand-owner from head to toe and after a while a long-fingered hand gestured towards a specific pile of boxes. A green container shot towards them, landing precisely on Mr. Ollivander's outstretched hand. After opening it with a dramatical gesture the shop owner said "I should be very much mistaken, if this isn't the perfect choice for you."
Since he was looking at the wand rather than the boy it wasn't exactly clear who the comment referred to.
"Oak and deer heartstring, eleven inches, very subtle and flexible, however, not that easy to direct. Give it a wave."
He took a few cautious steps behind the counter, seemingly ready to dodge, in case the wand decided differently than its creator. He had chosen well, however, for a little shower of silvery sparks erupted from the wand's tip, bathing the boy, who wore a big joyful smile now, in its light. Six gold Galleons and a wrapped-up package were just being exchanged when Snape's mother entered the shop. Mr. Ollivander's smile seemed to freeze as they exchanged the usual pleasantries and he stared after the couple thoughtfully for a while after they had left his shop.
Once outside the young boy dutifully relieved his mother of some of her many packages and started skipping along the street beside her, talking excitedly.
"It was not bad at all, mother, just like you said. He was really nice, that man, and I have the greatest wand ever! Do you want to see? It's made of oak and …."
"Severus, we don't have time for that now. Your father will be already waiting for us and I really want to give him the book that I found", his mother interrupted him, starting to walk faster, now that she didn't carry the main load anymore. There was an expectant smile on her face and she hardly looked at her son.
"But, mother, what about the owl?" He had stopped dead in his tracks, because she had just stormed past the shop with the many beautiful birds in the window, sleeping in their cages or peeping at him from under their wings with one eye.
"I'm sorry, Severus, but after buying that extraordinary book there's just not enough money left for an owl. Maybe we'll do it some other time."
She had finally noticed that he wasn't following her anymore and turned around impatiently.
"For the beginning you can just use one of the school owls to send messages to us, and when you come to visit us for Christmas we'll talk about it again, all right? Besides, be glad that we bought a wand for you. In my opinion you could just as well have kept on using your father's old one."
She wasn't even looking at him but kept fondling the book in her am with a loving hand. Judging from the look on his face there was a silent discussion going on inside the boy's head. In the end he trotted up towards his mother and followed her without another word, his head hanging down, while she smiled happily, completely lost in thought.
Thanks to all of you who read and reviewed; I promise I will try to take many of your comments on board.
Since I will be away until Wednesday and will probably have no access to a computer *shriek*, this will most likely be the last update for the next week. I'll keep on writing, though, using the old-fashioned pen-and-paper-method. By now I am curious myself where this story is going to take me.
Happy Halloween to all of you!