Severus walked swiftly and silently across the cobblestone street, Crackwallis Avenue. He glanced quickly up at the City Hall clock, as he rounded onto Hogsmeade Boulevard. The time was now 7:25, leaving him with only thirty-five minutes to get to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Since Apparation could not be performed on Hogwarts ground, and since Severus's belongings were void of a broomstick, and since he had no great desire for a Muggle vehicle, (or car), his only way of transportation was walking. It was Christmas Eve at last, although for all Severus cared, it shouldn't even exist... the entire town of Hogsmeade always got so wound up over these holidays!

'Look at all these crazy loons!' thought Severus with a disgusting feel in his gut. 'Gallavanting around like a herd of newly-born Sugarplum Fairies! What's the big deal about this "Christmas" anyway? Why look here, "Three Broomsticks... come in for a hot butterbeer to warm the heart and soul!"- sickening! And there, "Hogsmeade Post-send some Christmas cheer to a loved one, singing greetings now available, red and green prints half-price..." filthy! Outrageous! Unbelieva—'

But his train of criticism had run out of fuel, as he was hit in the side of the arm by a young boy with bleach-blonde hair and big, round eyes, no older than ten or eleven.

"Oh, pardon me, sir... p-p-please forgive me; I shall be more careful..." sputtered the boy, clearly phased in shock by his innocent mistake. Although for Severus Snape, being bumped into by a careless young lad was much more than and 'innocent mistake' in his mind...

"You foolish imbosil!" snorted Snape. "Have you NO common courtesy?! Why, I ought to teach you not to mess around with Severus Snape, especially when I'm running late..." he raised a bony, cruel arm high above his head...

"S-s-s-s-sir, please don't! It-it-it-'s nearly Ch-ch-Christmas!" That had done it.

"CHRISTMAS!! HOW DARE YOU USE THAT LITTLE FOLLY-WINKLE HOLIDAY OF YOURS AS AN EXCUSE TO MAKE UP FOR---"

"SIR, WHAT IN THE NAME OF BLAZES DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!", came the voice of a plump, stout man in a bowlers' hat. It was Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. He hurried over to the scene and immediately began struggling with Severus, pulling him away from the young boy.

"Mister Snape! In all my--- I just don't see how you could--- this poor boy, off to the pharmacy to get some help for his dear, sickly brother..." he began. He then turned to the boy, and stated with a nod,

"So sorry, Colin... run along now lad, and be sure you send my best to young Dennis." As Colin raced along without a backwards glance, Fudge rounded on Snape.

"Severus, you have got to start acting more respectable towards people... unless you want your name in this town to be trashed and tethered..."

"Minister, indeed you are blind to the obvious. My name already is trashed and tethered in this town! But why would I care? I don't need any of these people, and I certainly don't need you correcting me..." Severus briskly strutted forward and off along the road... until a question camet to his mind. He turned around and questioned the minister,

"What, by the way, are you doing here?"

"Well, if it was any of your concern, which by the way you made very clear to me it wasn't, you would know that dear Dennis Creevey has taken quite sick in the leg. They say..." he lowered his voice and then continued on, "they say he hasn't got much more time. The lad you just encountered, his brother, was off to get him some of his medication. Although the symptoms just get worse and worse..." his voice trailed off. "And anyway, I was here to see if I could be of any comfort to the family." Severus snorted.

"Ill?! No one these days knows the meaning of ill! Why, back in my time, if you'd get a disease in the leg, it'd be clean off before you knew it, no worries. My great-uncle Arnold, bastard though he was, got it in the arms and legs, as well, and one day he..."

"Yes, well... you just try to... behave yourself in public, and I shall be going." came the Minister. Severus snorted once again, louder than before, and as he journeyed on, nearly at the school now, he cursed himself for getting into one of his old family speeches... especially about his blasted abusive uncle, whom he loathed... the only happy memory he had of this man, who was also his only living family member which he knew at the time, was the day he died. The lady at the orphanage he was made to go to after that day was strict, but not in the nearest as bad as old Uncle Arnold. The lady would ask him where he had gotten the scars from, all the burn marks and bruises, and after years of lying to everyone about the truth, he finally told her. Sharing, he found immediately after, was in fact a mistake. From that time forward, he had drawn away, deep hate welling in his heart, detesting them for knowing secrets he would rather have repressed. Transforming into that bitter son-of-a-bitch he had ultimately become, he lived out his days in that Muggle orphanage; until the day his letter arrived...announcing his acceptance into Hogwarts. He had thought then, if even for a short time, that his life would take a turn for the better, though a constant stream of attitude and character met the same response there, if not far worse…

…he shook off these memories as he swung open the large stone door to Hogwarts.