-Cum Grano Salis- (The vilest measure of poison)

A letter! Addressed to him, on the side table, by the tea set. Raptures! But who, indeed, would write to him? His grandparents would not, convinced by his paternoster that he grieved still for his brother. Threats to ensure his subdued behavior before them. And he did, but not ever in public– only the silence of his eternally half-empty bedchamber. A reminder.

With a crackle, the paper opened, tea poured and prepared, the way his mother and father preferred. No Snape was impatient. "Read, Severus. What does it say?" Cool indifference marked the tone directed at him, interest solely contained by the letters contents. "Dear Mr. Snape....etc. Etc..."

HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY