Chapter Five: Of Severus Snape and Sirius, (Separately)
Severus Snape did not enjoy Potions. They held too many memories that were either painful or alluring, and almost all better forgotten. He had had that choice, but sacrificing the lessons he had learnt, even those learnt the hard way, was not something the Slytherin could do. So he kept his shadows, and never loved Potions, though he was brilliant at them. He did, however derive a great deal of satisfaction from a job perfectly completed. That, for now, would suffice.
Even so, holidays were the worst.
Often when people are asked a simple question such as 'how are you?' they will give an equally simple answer. 'Fine,' for example, has the benefit of being both a satisfactory answer, and completely untrue.
Severus Snape was fine. In his case, 'fine' meant 'if you do not drown yourself and rid the world of your disgusting existence, I will be forced to do so for you. And I will enjoy it.' The word had enough potential sullen menace embedded in it to induce people to seriously consider his suggestion. It was fortunate, therefore, that nobody had the necessary idiocy it would have taken for them to ask after the Potions Master's health.
He didn't like holidays. Without the unending distractions the students provided, there wasn't much to do to stop him from thinking. Not that there weren't plenty of things he should get done, there were. They just weren't a challenge to him.
At the present moment, Snape was holed up in his quarters, there having been little enough reason for him to be bothered leaving them. The potions master's rooms looked precisely like most of the school unconsciously assumed them to look like, down to the dark stone and equally dark green decor, and assorted implements of torture.
The fact that the vast majority of this was an illusion was irrelevant. The professor could see through it effortlessly if he wished to. At the moment, he didn't.
The black owl and the letter it carried blended seamlessly into the false background. Severus' instincts acknowledged and dismissed both bird and mail as non threatening long before the spy bothered to give them his full attention.
Professor Severus Snape,
You are hereby invited, along with two others, to fill the position of Defence
Against the Dark Arts, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Should you
choose to accept, the Hogwarts express will be leaving from Domino Station,
platform 3½, every Tuesday at 12:00 noon. Please send a reply with the owl that
delivered this letter, informing us of your decision, and/or date of arrival.
We await your owl.
P.S. If Dumbledore has been paying such insufficient attention that he doesn't realise you are the third Defence teacher, that's his problem, don't you think?
Snape's mood lightened a few degrees as he scanned the letter, just enough to allow a genuine smile to appear on his face - sadistic and sardonic, perhaps, but still a smile. He could
catch the signature twist to the writing that indicated the sorting hat had created it. The
headmaster would not even have read it.
This owl looked identical to his own Vader, except where Vader's wing feathers were edged in silver, this one's were edged in gold. And she was female. "I think," he said, in a low tone that carried as far as the owl and no further, "I will call you Sidious." He caressed her chest feathers ever so lightly as he spoke.
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Somewhere in the Realm of Shadows, a figure knelt, arms wrapped around himself in a futile attempt to ward off the darkness. Once-bright blue eyes held a resigned expression amidst the pain and fear, almost as if this - or something akin to this - had happened to him before.
At the touch of a hand on his arm, he flinched violently, springing to his feet in a posture that screamed mistrust. Shadi's blank gaze met his own and held him motionless. "You should not be here," the guardian stated tonelessly. "Come."
Sirius Black followed.
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