A New Year's Beginning

Contrary to common belief, even in the wizarding world it did not necessarily snow during Christmas week. Not all the time, at least. And this year, not once. Instead, it had been raining cats and dogs for days. Today there had even been a couple of flashes and some distant thunder, which seemed to be approaching then slowly, but steadily. It was the last evening of the old year and Severus was sitting in the living-room with his father, drinking some hot pumpkin juice, peppered with... well... pepper. The famous 'Honeydukes Salt 'n' Pepper', to be exact. A substance, said to be a mixture of sal ammoniac, rum, and a good bit of magic belonging in the general area of potion brewing, making the drink bubbly, sparkling and changing its taste according to the drinker's current mood.

Severus's father had settled in with a pint of butterbeer and his newspaper and was scanning the Quidditch timetables, obviously not dissatisfied with this week's results. He had come home for New Year's Eve to evade the hustle and bustle of the soldiers' camp down in M'bwa and not to have to expel too many of the youngsters for unauthorised drinking and jinxing superior officers - according to his own description. There were some things one just could not change. And, after all, most of the soldiers down at the camp were recruits or constables. Young, inexperienced, but extremely ambitious - 364 days of the year, Severus's father had told him with a trace of a smirk on his face.

For now, both, father and son had settled over their lecture - Severus had grabbed one of the books on the living-room shelves entitled "Healing Potions A - Z", whereas his father, having finished with his newspaper, had seized a couple of official-looking letters from the table and was scanning them now, bearing almost an amused expression on his face.

Severus looked up every now and then, but his father seemed thoroughly emerged in his letters, so he returned to his lecture after a while, reading a passage about psychopharmacological drugs with interest, wondering what was worse - an illness of the kind described here, or the suggested cure against it. He also started wondering whether this was the kind of treatment the doctors of St Mungo's used on their long-time patients, when they were not treating the occasional, light cases like his mother's fits or, say, an injured Quidditch player.

'What!?'

Severus awoke from his daydreaming at an instant, clearing his face of all thoughts that might be displayed on them and shifted slightly in his chair.

'Hm?'

'What are you looking at?'

'Uhm... I was... lost in thoughts, father.'

'Ah.'

The soldier returned to his letters with an unmoved expression on his face, but looked up again after a short while.

'You haven't been drinking your pumpkin juice, boy.'

Severus side-glanced at the jar in his hand, nodded, and started sipping while his eyes were still fixed on his father's face, carefully looking for traces of displeasure. The soldier, however, watched him with a rare expression of calm and content, laying his letters aside after a short while, and put one leg over the other.

'The celebration was rather enjoyable, wasn't it?' he said, obviously referring to the Christmas dinner at Grimmauld Place. 'It seemed far more quiet than usual. More reasonable, too. The general conversation, I mean.'

Severus nodded simply, surprised about his father's sudden inclination of discussing family matters with him.

'And did you notice anything unusual about Mercurius's daughter?' enquired his father. 'She seemed rather... upset.'

'I believe she has a different idea of... politics than her parents have,' said Severus shyly. 'And she seemed annoyed that people weren't listening to her.'

'Oh, but I was listening,' said his father grimly. 'I found most of her ideas quite interesting, to tell the truth. Do you know what becomes of people developing such ideas, Severus? Do you know what becomes of people who question authority and try to wind people up with ideas of rebellion?'

'Yes,' whispered Severus, thinking of his father's office and the blank, never-changing surface of his desk. 'I do.'

'That's because you are educated in the right way,' mumbled his father. 'Other people, on the other hand...' He sighed. 'It is a shame what children of the best families turn out to be at times. Bellatrix is an admirable young woman on the whole, of course, but...' He hesitated, just for a second. 'Well, I know revolutionists when I see them. Meaning, I am afraid I shall have to keep an eye on her. You know - the burden of a twenty-four-hour duty.'

'I thought you said London wasn't your area of responsibility any longer?' said Severus uneasily. His father gave him a side-glance and a brief smile.

'That is true,' he muttered. 'But it is still my duty to prevent crime when it is dancing in front of my nose. As, of course, accounts for everyone,' he said, rather sharply all of a sudden, surveying his son closely along his hooked nose. 'Meaning that, should you come across any interesting news at school you will, of course, tell me about it,' he said sternly. 'Can't have that kind of unduly behaviour start when they are still at Hogwarts, after all.'

Severus nodded. Carefully, his concentration permanently fixed on his father's facial expression, he said, 'But... couldn't I also just tell a teacher?'

'That depends on your choice,' said his father gloomily. 'You can always tell Corp-... Professor Robertson, of course. He is of the trustworthy kind. So, up to a certain degree, is Professor McGonagall.' His expression changed for a short moment, then he had gathered himself again. 'But I advise you not to talk to Professor Dumbledore about such things. He does not understand... certain matters as we do. You have gathered as much from your great-uncle's elucidations, I trust. It does not do to talk to the likes of Dumbledore, or Professor Sprout, or...' He thought for another while. 'Well, I expect Professor Vector might be a good choice,' he said. 'But I seem to know she will have to take a year off due to family matters soon. So it depends on who is going to be the next head of Slytherin.'

Severus was surprised to say the least, but nodded again, very simply, to indicate that he understood. There was a long silence in which his father leaned back, closed his eyes for a while, then opened them again, still looking as if nothing in the world could upset him tonight. A kind of general positive feeling spread throughout the room and Severus started feeling better than he had in years while being in this room - given that he was sitting about six feet away from the feared balcony door.

After some time, he came to be aware of a black-haired figure sitting next to him. Skein still had his freckles, but his appearance seemed to have changed just slightly - perhaps because he was angry, or, Severus thought, bored. In any case, why he had to turn up at this specific moment Severus could only guess. He gave Skein a curious look, but refrained from speaking, knowing instinctively that his father would fail to notice whom he was talking to.

Skein gave him a broad grin and positioned himself on the armchair closest to Severus, surveying his father's expression with an air of interest and cheek around him. Severus closed his eyes briefly, realising that he was getting genuinely worried by the mere presence of his friend. His... not-quite-so-freckled-as-last-time-friend, now he got to have a closer look.

'Why do you look like me?' he thought, and to his great surprise, Skein turned, grinned mischievously, and tied his hair in a ponytail, now looking almost exactly like the image Severus had the pleasure of encountering in the mirror every morning. Only that, as opposed to Severus, Skein looked somewhat smooth and superior. In fact, Severus realised with some disgust, he looked more like Black - only that he was not quite as big, and certainly not as ugly.

'Why, thank you,' said Skein with a scowl, reading Severus's thoughts like a book. 'I appreciate your openness. What are you doing here, hu?'

'Enjoying a quiet evening without trouble,' thought Severus, hoping that Skein would catch the drift without being offended. 'Can you read my mind?' he added as an afterthought.

Skein grinned again. 'You could try it,' he said. 'It's easy. Remember that book you nicked from the library in first year?'

Severus frowned. 'I didn't nick it!' he snapped, forgetting to think instead of speaking aloud. His father looked up from his lecture again, frowned slightly, and shook his head.

'Pardon?'

Severus bit his lip. 'Nothing, sir. I'm sorry.'

His father frowned some more, shook his head once more (disapprovingly this time), and went back to his letters. 'Talking nonsense, are you?' he said without looking up again. 'Ah well, it is getting late, of course. Perhaps you are too young after all to stay up and see the fireworks?'

Severus was puzzled. 'Fireworks?'

'Muggles tend to welcome the new year via fireworks,' said his father. 'They can be quite inventive in terms of shape and colour, depending where and when you look for them. I thought you might want to stay up and watch them this year.'

Severus was very puzzled. 'You mean like Bonfire Night?' he said.

His father nodded vaguely. 'Similar, yes.'

'When will it start?' said Severus curiously.

'At midnight,' replied his father sternly. 'What do you expect? At the beginning of the new year, of course.'

Fighting a jolt of excitement, Severus put his book away and looked out of the balcony door, instinctively expecting something to happen every minute now. 'And I can really stay up and see them? Like - stay down here? All the time until it's over?'

His father gave him an odd glance, just for a second, then his face went back to displaying his usual severity. 'Yes, but no longer.'

'Thank you,' whispered Severus, taming his temper with every effort he could muster, refraining from jumping up and doing something similarly stupid. Then, against every instinct, he did get up, took a few steps towards the balcony door and pressed his nose against the glass, staring into the pitch black sky, where the thunder was still rolling, but a couple of stars had appeared between the thick layers of clouds. It was an odd night, he thought. Full of magical silence.

Suddenly (he had been staring into the pitch darkness for quite a while already) he felt something on his shoulder, realising that it was his father's hand, who was now standing behind him, watching the night sky and the movement of the clouds just as Severus had done, his expression one of absent calm and deep emotional involvement. Severus needed some time before he could tear himself from the sight of his father's unusual expression and needed to remind himself to keep looking into the darkness, as to not draw the big man's awareness to the fact that he was being watched.

There was a long, pleasant silence, in which father and son were staring into the darkness outside, not talking, the former's hand permanently placed on the latter's shoulder, as if to reassure him from the gaping abyss in front of the balcony. Or perhaps he was steadying himself, Severus found himself thinking, but dismissed this thought at once. His father, on the other hand, chose this particular moment to place his other hand on Severus's shoulder as well and press it, just slightly, before clearing his throat and stating in a voice that sounded far, far away, 'Sometimes, you know, people start thinking about the future when the new year starts. It is a habit, more than anything. They do, because one thing comes to an end and a fresh one starts.'

Severus nodded. It seemed wrong to reply, so he just kept staring into the darkness, trying not to break this rare moment of peace - even though his father was in such an unusual mood... or maybe because of this very fact. The following silence did not last long.

'I understand that what happened on Christmas morning cannot happen again,' said the soldier eventually, his hands not moving from Severus's shoulder. 'You have learned your lesson, I take it?'

'Yes, father,' said Severus, healthy cautiousness flaming up in the back of his mind again.

'We do not want mother to collapse again, do we?' said his father.

'No, sir,' whispered Severus, and then, reluctantly, 'What did happen to her that night?'

His father hesitated for a moment. 'Well, you know what she is like. Always making too much of a fuss about things, as witches tend to. She doesn't like fighting. I suspect that is what made her collapse. You talking back or shouting is the last thing she needs, being in that fragile state of hers. Meaning it will not happen again. Is that clear?'

'But I wasn't -' began Severus, but stopped at both, his father's expression and his own apprehension. 'Sorry,' he muttered quickly. His father nodded curtly.

'That is what I mean. You realise. Your mother's health is at a worrying state and all you can think of it answer back. But you are not a child any longer. You need to grow up and start doing what you are told. Otherwise the family will break apart. I cannot allow you to endanger her health by fooling around like a ten-year-old. Do you remember what I said about rules back at Grimmauld Place?'

Severus nodded.

'Good. That is the way. Bear them in mind. I have been trying to make our life as simple and straightforward as possible, out of consideration for your mother. Because she will always be the first to suffer from your foolishness if you fail to adapt to the given situation. You know the rules. Obey them and everything will be fine. Understood?'

Severus nodded again. Because what else was there to do? His father pressed his shoulder shortly, approvingly, and then let go very abruptly. Severus heard him retreat and resume his seat in the darker armchair. He did not turn.

'By the way,' said his father brusquely. 'That was an interesting observation about the Dumbledores only ever being defeated by other Dumbledores.'

Severus held his breath.

'An appropriate statement at the appropriate time,' continued his father, holding his hand lazily out towards the bookshelf, causing one of the books to zoom towards him and land in his outstretched hand. 'I was going to state something very similar.' He smiled. Briefly.

Severus hesitated, then nodded again. The tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly and his breathing became more even. 'Yes, sir,' he said happily, realising that this was the long awaited support for putting his thoughts into words during the Christmas Dinner. Somehow, he noticed, he had been waiting for it ever since his father had returned from Africa this time, feeling that something could not be right if he did not have it.

A few minutes later loud banging and shouting appeared from outside and the dark sky was lit with first signs of the new year's first fireworks.


Author's Notes: I am going to have to take another little break again. Not an overly long one, but for the following events I would like a little headstart, just to make sure they are going all right. :) Thanks for your interest. I appreciate that for this story I am getting very intelligent reviews almost exclusively. It proves to me that I am writing for the right audience. g

Risi, your observations on the Fidelius Charm are spot-on and your questions are going into exactly the right direction. Unfortunately, though, I cannot answer them right now as it would give away too much, but I promise there is a theory behind it all. And, in fact, a full plotline.