Author's Note:

Well, now I know that one chapter per week is a bit on the ambitious side. Writing is the easiest thing to do. Typing the stuff that I micro-write during economics and anatomy takes forever and ever and ever. Sadly, my beta-reader is grounded from her computer till the New Years. I will continue to handwrite this, but I will not post until she betas it. I have been challenged several times in the past weeks to do some "short" fics. I will be writing and posting those between now and the liberation of my beta. Well, enjoy!

Ashes of Knowledge

In the dungeons of my father's manor, I was taught from the time I could speak until I left for Hogwarts. From early morning til late night my father would impart valuable knowledge to me.

"You are a Snape. No Snape has ever been bested," he would always say. Each time, I resolved that I would live up to his expectation of a good son, but I never knew what he meant until I grew much older.

~~*~~

On occasion, Lucius Malfoy would come to my manor to receive instruction in the Dark Arts from my father. My father told me to never gloat, brag, or do anything of the sort in front of a Malfoy. They like to capitalize on your weakness while destroying your strengths. While I silently worked, Lucius bragged about the mice that he had tortured and killed using various implements-some magical, others not.

I noticed my father's subtle partiality towards me. He tried to protect me from what I was to become. Lucius never learned potions from my father. Truly, my father taught me to ensnare the senses, brew fame and glory, and stop death. Lucius never learned the darkest of the dark arts from which the unforgivable curses are derived.

One day, soon after my mother's death, Lucius was over for a dueling lesson. When he heard that I received my Hogwarts letter, he felt it necessary to inform me all about his letter.

"Oh Severus, I got mine last week." He gloated. I half expected him to begin making comments on his family's influence in the magic world, but I was wrong. "It seems that they have their priorities in order, don't they? The more important wizarding families are informed before the rest. Which house will you be in? I will be in Slytherin, of course. All truly powerful wizards are connected in some way from Salazaar Slytherin himself, one of the four founders of the school." He could be very animated when he spoke. I was in more danger of getting my eye poked out with his wand (which he was waving carelessly around as he spoke) than being hexed. Normally, he did not talk unless he was boasting. I looked to my father who in turn studied my puzzled features.

"You will be either in Ravenclaw, like your mother, or Slytherin, like myself. Your mother was a direct descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw. You will be removed from Hogwarts if I hear that you are a Griffyndor and sent to Durmstrang. If you turn out to be a Hufflepuff, may God have mercy on your damned soul." I could sense him joking, for he was proud of my accomplishments.

Malfoy sneered, "My father says that we are related to Salazaar Slytherin."

My father just shrugged. Malfoy left. I saw him show great restraint, almost as if he was trying to prevent himself from saying something, and then I realized that I was the reason that my father was the man he was. He honored my mother by not killing Lucius; that was the first time that I ever saw my father show pride in my mother. ~~*~~

Later that night after dinner.

"Come with me to the library, Severus."

I followed my father to the library located on the third floor.

After dinner, we ascended the stairs. All my life I thought that I had known the whole of the library, right down to each individual volume. Some books, I read, others I memorized. My father strode up to the fireplace and muttered something under his breath. A door appeared from out of nowhere. I did some quick thinking. 'I am a wizard who lives in an old manor. Secret passages are perfectly natural in a house like this.' I saw my father remove from his pocket an old rusted key, which he inserted in the lock of the door. The door creaked open slowly. We walked inside. The musty smell penetrated my nose. Dust rose from the ground with each step. "Lumos" my father said as the tip of his wand illuminated the room. As the dust cleared, I saw a small collection of ancient books.

"These ancient books have been handed down through many generations of the Ravenclaw family." My father gestured to the newer looking books and said "These belonged to your mother and myself. It is the Ravenclaw tradition to never forget the magic of the old and forgotten times. Tell no one of this, except for your heirs. Many would go to any extremes to learn the content of these volumes."

He continued, "Remember that black-bound book with blank pages?"

I nodded yes.

"Go quickly and retrieve it. Tonight, important tasks must be accomplished."

I ran back to my room. Down the steps, through several dark corridors I finally arrived in my room. I could feel the magic in the book, mysterious and uniquely familiar. I quickly returned to the secret room where my father was waiting for me. He was reading one of the newer books, a purple leather with gold gilding. He immediately placed it back on the shelf when he saw me. With an unusual amount of urgency in his voice, he began to five me instructions.

"Scribe Verbatim." He continued as if something was about to happen imminently. "That is the charm that you will need to use. It will automatically copy the writing from the old books into yours. You need to do all of the books tonight."

He demonstrated the charm. He said the incantation tapped the old book and then tapped my book with his wand.

"That is all that there is to do. When you finish, come and tell me for there is more that has yet to be done." With that, he quickly left the room, robes swiftly flowing behind.

I was left alone. It was already past midnight. I stared down at my little book and then at the many shelves of massive books. Mine, clearly, was the smallest, a diary among monstrous volumes. 'Oh well' I thought 'If I don't try, I'll be in trouble. There is nothing to lose!" I walked to the end of a shelf. I figured that I had better find an organized method to accomplish my late night task. With book in hand, I removed what looked to be the oldest book that I have ever laid eyes on in my whole life. I tapped the cover, said, "Scribe Verbatim." I could feel the magic leave my body. A faint light flashed between the pages of my book. I opened my book-it was blank. Nothing seemed to happen. I sighed and thought to myself 'Am I a squib?!?!' Slowly, unusual script began to appear on the page. I blinked hard at the writing. The writing clearly described in detail the charm that my father had taught me. Whichever ancestor had written this book had also invented the 'scribe verbatim' charm. My confidence soared. I set to work copying each volume of the writings of my ancestors. It had been late night when I began to work. When I came to the last book, the great clock chimed three. I listened for a moment as the bells sounded their heavy sound. I looked at the last book in my hand- it was my mother's book. Red Dragon-hide with gold embellishments. I opened the cover to the first page. Her neat, clear handwriting filled all the pages. I began to read. Healing spells, counter-curses, and what seemed to be her very thoughts and dreams filled the pages. I copied the book. By this time, I realized that the book read my thoughts and found the answers that I was seeking. I, being finished, closed my book and slipped it in my robes. I returned my mother's book to the shelf. I ran to my father's study to tell him that I was finished. I found him waiting for me, staring in to the fire that was slowly burning out in the fireplace.

"Done?" he asked slowly.

"Yes, Father."

"Very well then, let's begins." He turned away and walked back to the library quickly. When we arrived he said, "Light a fire Severus."

I pointed my wand at the grate in the massive fireplace. Three poufs were heard as three fireballs emerged from the end of my wand. My father started to hand me books. Puzzled, I looked back to him. He immediately saw my confusion.

"Severus, we need to destroy them. Ask your book to show you what your mother saw regarding the books."

My confusion had now become anger. I opened my book. Mother's handwriting appeared on the pages. ".The DARK LORD will find knowledge long forgotten.innocence, lost.defenseless, murdered." Then I understood. Replacing my anger with resolve, my book back in its pocket, I took the ancient books that my father had handed me, and I cast them into the flames. The flames danced brightly as the pages curled black. He continued handing me books until only one was left unburned. He handed me my mother's book. I took it. I tried to release it to the flames, but I could not. I heard the clock chime four. The four long tolls rang in my ears, in my mind, in my heart, in my soul, each more heavy than the last.

"Severus, my son, I know you loved her very dearly. She wanted you to have the book that now lies in your pocket. She will live on in your memories. She would have you cast her book in the fire."

Reluctantly, I released the book. In the distance, I could have sworn I heard a rooster crow three times. The flames seemed to tease me, mocking my loss. They made quick work of a book that seemed to have taken years of careful work. In the space under one hour, all my ancestor's work had become a small pile of grey ashes.



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