Warning of torture and brief child abuse this chapter. A villain must always have a backstory. Please be wary :)

Chapter 12: A Villian Made and Changed

"Get out of your room now!" shouted his father from the top of the stairwell. Hunched over, he made his way out of his basement sanctuary and slowly made his way up the stairs to face his father. It always happened faster than he could process.

A shout. A hit. Blood pouring from his nose.

It was the repeated routine that was set in place by his drunken father. All he could do is hope and pray that his dad forgot he existed. His mother would get most of the brute, shielding him from his father's angry blows, directing them on herself. Multiple times, he caught his mother weeping and gasping about how it was her fault she couldn't please her husband, digging her way down emotionally.

The smallest things, like a dish left in the sink, were enough to set the brute off. It merely depended on what was in his reach that decided if his or his mother's death was sealed. At least he had school to keep him occupied, succeeding in the sciences. With this knowledge, he sketched out many outlandish weapons that he imagined would protect him and his mother.

On some occasions, they would go to a family function or a party. His mother always covered her arms and legs with a sweater and long pants, even in the summer to cover the bruises. His father smiled and put on the regular mask that he wore in public. To the rest of their family and friends, they were perfect and normal.

Everyone was fooled, except his aunt.

She lived alone. The rest of the family always referred to her as that crazy cat lady. She was his mother's sister and they were not very close but the way she talked to her nephew really showed her kindness.

At one of these get-togethers, his father dragged him aside away from the rest of the family, into a spare room. He accidentally told his cousin the truth about where he got the scar on his left arm, saying his father did it. The cousin told his dad who approached his father. The brute played it off smoothly, saying it was an accidental incident. Now alone, he showed his true colours. Shaking his son, he whispered aggressively through his teeth.

"I would love to punch your face in right now, but I can't do that in front of them." His father kicked him roughly in the knee and he collapsed on the ground. He didn't cry or scream out so he resorted to biting his lip to draw blood. To avoid more beatings, he played dead. Out of the corner of his eye, someone came into the room. It was his aunt.

His father yelled and his aunt scowled in disbelief and repulsion. At one point, his aunt shut the door behind her and pulled out what looked to be a small stick. His father raised his fist to pummel the old woman.

She mumbled what seemed to be gibberish and his father fell to the ground in a heap. Staring at his fallen father in disbelief, he watched as his aunt continued to mumble gibberish. The tip of her stick glowed a faint blue.

Not daring to move, he watched as his father got up. The everlasting anger that always blazed in his eyes was gone. Deciding to continue to play dead, he felt his father pick him up gently and carry him out of the house towards the car. Behind him, he heard his aunt telling the family that his father was taking him home because he was feeling sick.

After that incident, his father never hit him. He was, however, very sluggish. He never did a thing but watched football. His mother got a bit happier with not having to be beaten on a regular basis.

How could a frail old lady defeat a brute like him? Thought the nine-year-old.

"William! Dinner is getting cold!" called his mother. He was pulled from his thoughts.

"Coming!" William called up the stairs.

Curiosity turned to obsession. Over the last decade and a half, William held four PHDs, all in the scientific field. He also took a liking to American football, which he played every other Thursday. His main focus stayed in school. The thing that drove him was the memory of his aunt from long ago. No matter how much he researched, there was no sign of anything similar to what he witnessed that day.

One day, his aunt passed away from old age. At the funeral, a bunch of people he never saw before showed up, most of them wearing strange clothing. During the viewing, William saw that the same stick was inside her casket beside her.

At the reception, William meet one of the strange people. His name was John Frill and he claimed he knew his aunt from a book club. He also found out that John was going to be taking the majority of her belongings since he owned a large part of her will.

William did some research on the man and found he worked as an editor for a news company. He was married and fathered two young girls. Strangely, he was in no way related to Willaims aunt.

After a few months of talking, William became good friends with John. Since William worked at a lab nearby John's work, they went for coffee almost every day. They talked about theories and wild stories that John usually provided. Once, William was in John's office, fetching him for coffee, then he saw it. On John's desk was a stick encased by glass that was very similar to his aunt's.

"What is the decoration?" asked William. John glanced at his stick.

"It's a rare piece of carved wood I acquired from a trip to Korea. The locals say it is quite valuable although I beg to differ." William saw John's eyes dart back to his desk. He was lying.

Later that evening, William stayed late in his office and ran multiple tests on an electromagnetic sensor that he was working on. Looking out the window, he gazed at the dark office building outside it. Picking up a stick he acquired later that day, he carved it to resemble John's stick the best he could.

Satisfied with the result. He put it and his sensors in his bag and headed out the door, grabbing an electric lock pick on his way out.

William easily broke into the office building. It was too early for the security guard to come in so he had roughly an hour to get out. Entering John's office, the stick lay in front of him. Taking off the glass case, William lifted the light piece of wood and scanned it with his scanner.

A shrill round of beeping sounds came from the stick. There was power within it that measured enough to light up the whole building if it could be accessed. William smiled in glee.

Putting the wand in his bag, he replaced it with the fake stick. John would probably know of the switch in a few days.

He left as quickly as he came.

Moving around often, his following grew as he studied more into the world of this newfound power. Questions like what physical capabilities does it have? How does one wield it? Over that time, he was approached by a lady who called herself Dolores Umbridge and she introduced him to the concept of wizards, witches, and magic. She demonstrated her power by using her own wand.

Intrigued, he started to research into what makes a wizard magically capable. He found it was genetic. By taking a DNA sample from Umbridge, he saw that extra DNA strands caused this magical ability. He then tested it with certain frequencies of electromagnetics and found that those DNA stands could be 'shut down'.

Over that time, he tested his own DNA for the magical strands, yet none showed up. Having a strong value of justice, William found it unfair that these magical people could be gifted with such power. He introduced this information to the rest of the scientific community as well as the government. Everything was top secret.

Seeing this power as a threat. The government thought it best if the magically capable could make themselves known so that they could live in peace. William, taking his advice from Umbridge, shut down the idea and told them that the wizards could attack anytime so they should act before that happens.

They agreed. The production of William's designed weapons and armour went quickly underway. The wizards had no idea, mostly because Umbridge was shielding the ministry of magic from knowing the preparations.

The only motivation in Williams' head consisted of understanding the magical world to the fullest. Even if he had to tear up it's roots to reveal it's secrets.

After a long afternoon of settling the soldiers in, they finally were fed and taken care of. Dumbledore walked over to Sharp, who was sitting on a cot comforting another soldier who had an arm missing. Seeing Dumbledore, Sharp got up.

"Uh, hey. Is there any sort of spell that could regenerate some of my men's ligaments?" asked Sharp. Dumbledore shook his head.

"We can accelerate healing and grow back anything that would heal itself over time. Unfortunately, severed limbs don't really grow back." Bending down to look at the man's injury, Dumbledore saw fear in the young boy's eyes. He winced at the injury and stood back up, repulsed at the damage that was done to the poor muggle. He got up and addressed Sharp.

"Would you like to come to my office for a talk? I would like to answer any question or fears you might have about us or this place." Dumbledore gestured towards the door. Sharp nodded.

Entering into the large office. The two sat down on either side of the desk. Sharp cleared his throat.

"First off. I want to know if the wizards had or have any intention of taking over us 'muggles'. I was told by my superiors that it would be inevitable for you to attack. That is the reason we started arresting wizards."

Dumbledore pushed the bowl of lemon drops in his direction, and to his delight, Sharp took a few. "Us wizards never had any intention to take over the muggle world. The ones who have those ideals are locked up in our own prison, Azkaban we call it. This is off topic but may I ask who your superior is?"

"His name is Dr. Hansen. Over the last few months, he called the military in to annihilate a threat put on our nation. The threat being you guys." He took another lemon drop. Dumbledore also took one.

"Ah. William Hansen. I would have guessed." sighed Dumbledore as Sharp sat upright at the first name.

"You know of him?" asked Sharp with surprise. Dumbledore nodded.

"Around two months ago, a wizard named John Frill came to me, telling me his wand was taken by a close muggle friend of his. Mr. Frill was more part of the muggle community at the time but still held his status as an Auror. He never kept his wand close to him, quite forgetful he was. The man dreamed of being a muggle." Dumbledore took another lemon drop. "His friend was named William Hansen."

Sharp sat back in his chair. "Why didn't you go after him then?"

"I was busy with the school so I sent a message to the ministry to find William and erase his memories of wizards. However, the ministry is slow to those types of things, so it was never done on time." Dumbledore shook his head. "The muggles were too quick with their preparation."

Sharp listened while running a hand through his graying hair. The thought of this unknown society keeping themselves hidden for centuries ran a shiver down his spine. It was true that normal humans would act scared even if the wizards showed themselves voluntarily and peacefully. However, humans don't like change, wizards and muggles alike.

"I see" Sharp finally said. "Your side only acted out of defence in our attack." He took a deep breath inwards and let out an unstable breath. "Then tell me why… why were my men stuck down dead when they could have easily been stunned by your magic?"

Dumbledore talked about how the armour they were given didn't affect them so there was no way to use any spells other than the killing spell. Sharp glared at the floor.

"It was Hansen. He gave us the armour fully knowing that it could only take a few hits then…" He trailed off, lost in his own memory.

The snow flying everywhere. Green light exploding around him. His comrades falling dead. Yet, deep down, Sharp knew. Knew how wrong it was. How it was their fault. His fault.

Looking up at Dumbledore, who was observing him quietly, Sharp sighed. "I can't change the past, but I hope that we can work this out peacefully."

"As do I." agreed Dumbledore with a soft smile on his face. They were interrupted by shouts coming from the hallway outside.

"Help! The soldiers! In the hall!" Shouted from what was heard to be a young student. Dumbledore glanced at Sharp who looked as concerned and both hurried to the door.

Bursting into the hall, Dumbledore and Sharp halted at the sight before them. In the middle of the room, a circle of five soldiers were pointing their weapons in every direction. The rest of the soldiers were against the side walls, watching uncertainty. The children cowered at the front of the hall. The tallest of the five men laughed at the sight of his leader and the rest of the wizards.

"Any of you pull a wand and we open fire on the kids!" The man grinned manically, his men smirked in agreement. Sharp was furious.

"Soldiers! Put your weapons down! That's an order!" Sharp shouted as he stepped in front of Dumbledore just in case they fired. If anything, the bullets wouldn't affect him. All the soldier did was scoff.

"Sorry, sir. I see you unfit for this mission due to your lack of better judgment." He gave him an evil smile. "Now then, time to start this. Join me if you see a future in humanity!" He shouted to the soldiers who stood along the wall, clearly none of them snuck in weapons like the five.

Pointing his weapon at Draco, he sneered, "Let's start with this troublesome brat, shall we?" He pulled the trigger. Two shots fired at the same time, one just a bit earlier than the other. Draco gave a weak gasp, clutching his side, and crumpled to the ground. The group of kids around him grabbed him and dragged him to the back of the crowd of students. Neville bravely stood at the front and tried to shield as many kids as possible. All of them had tears in their eyes, some more than others.

As this was all happening, a scream was heard from the middle of the room. The soldier who shot Draco was on the ground, rolling back and forth, clutching his knee in pain. Sharp walked towards the group of five and pointed a small revolver at them, smoke rising from the barrel. The other four dropped their weapons. Sharp kicked the wounded soldier in the knee, making him howl.

"You filth!" He spat at his soldier. "You just shot a child and you call yourself human?"

All the man could do was clutch his leg, regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry sergeant, I didn't mean…"

"It's too late! We will need to detain you and those four until we get back to camp." Sharp looked back at Dumbledore, who was telling the other wizards who had arrived to lower their wands. Instead, they rushed towards the children. At that moment Harry and his friends arrived. Hermione looked scared, not a trace of the usual 'I told you so' smirk. Ron stared wide-eyed at Sharp and more importantly, the revolver in his hand.

Dumbledore walked up to Sharp, huffing. "Our only requirement was that you leave your weapons out of the school."

Sharp opened his bolt action. "I didn't know what to expect. Who knew I'd be using it on my own men?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Well, I'll let this one pass," he said as they watched Mrs. Pomfrey tend to Draco. "But I can't have this happen again. Your men are to stay in the hall and I will relocate my students. It was daft of me to room them together in the hall. We will detain those five in the dungeons."

Sharp handed Dumbledore his gun, "I will not be needing this anymore. Also, you have dungeons? In a school!?"

For what felt like ages, Snape sat in the far corner. His breaths were shallow as he sat with his arms around his knees, anticipating for something to happen. It must have been nearing 6 o'clock since it had been at least a few hours since handing off the portkey.

I could have escaped if I kept it. A thought arose from the inner part of his head. He shut it down quickly, knowing only thinking about it would make him miserable; not that he was already. He turned his attention to his ankle, which didn't stop throbbing since the scramble to Flitwick. The shock he was given didn't help it's condition.

Wincing, Snape pulled back his trousers that covered the ankle. The cut was fully clogged but a large blue bruise was growing around it. Putting the fabric back over it, he let his head rest against the wall. The pain forced him to stay awake.

If only I could get a moment of peace. At least give me sleep for a few hours. He glared at the light that just didn't stop shining. It was as if the light had a personality and was mocking him from its high place above him. Snape hated it with a passion. He missed the dungeon from which he lived most of the time. The darkness was comforting to him.

As if Snape had enough trouble with falling asleep, a loud alarm started to whine from the outside. He stood up and heard guards running down the hallway. The light in his cell turned red. It was a bit darker than the white fluorescent beams. Snape gave a weak grin to the slightly darkened light.

The medal window to his cell slid open and William's red face glared at him with rage. Unlocking the door, which took a few seconds, he stormed in, taking Snape by surprise. It was up until then that Snape realized how big the man was.

William was almost a head taller than Snape standing at roughly 6'5''. William was also very built for a scientist, who would be thought to slave away at books for the majority of his life. Rather, he was either gifted with strength or found time to go to the gym on a daily basis. Snape, however, lacked these qualities. Being the book fanatic with no athletic build at all resulted in his slim, lanky form. He was no match for the raging beast in front of him.

Shoving Snape face-first against the wall, William took hold of his hands and brought them behind his back. Pinning both the hands with one large hand, he grabbed Snape's dark hair and pulled his head back. The headband caused Snape's head to spin.

"What did you DO!?" growled William as his grip tightened on the last word. Not answering, Snape tried to keep his face from showing any emotion. He knew full well what the scientist was talking about.

So they escaped. Thought Snape. They are back safely to Hogwarts. My chance has gone.

He was pulled back to reality when his head smashed against the concrete wall. William was not getting away without an answer.

"All the wizards are gone!" William paused, "Except you." The last part he said almost gently, which scared Snape more than anything. "Did they forget you? Or were you the reason they all disappeared with the incident earlier today?"

Snape kept his mouth shut. He wasn't going to tell the monster anything. William pulled his head back further so that Snape could feel his breath against his face.

"If you don't tell me everything you know, I have no use for you." Snape felt his knees start to give out from the pain in his ankle. William stopped him from falling further by pressing him harder against the wall. "I could benefit from a dissection. There would be use for you in that department."

Snape was roughly thrown to the floor and kicked by the scientist. Lying curled on the floor once again, Snape could do nothing as William pulled out a medal attachment and hooked it onto his headband. The world started to blast him with high frequencies of pain that Snape never knew he could feel. The worst part was that it was almost impossible to become unconscious.

Using an old technique, Snape retreated into his mind. The pain was still there, sending wave after wave of attacks into his mental barrier. As if it couldn't get any worse, a dark presence appeared in front of him. It was his master. It was Voldemort.

Unable to put his shields up in time, Snape felt the dark lord scan his mind, seeing everything. After a few seconds, the deathly voice spoke.

"Who is doing this to you, Severus?"

Snape winced, "The muggles, my lord. The wizards are losing this fight. We are in desperate need of backup."

"Are you asking me for help?"

Snape thought of this. If they could get Voldemort on their side, they might have a strong chance of surviving at least. "Yes, I am."

"I know you are a traitor to me, Severus. This will be punished after I give aid to our kind. You know this?"

Snape nodded.

"I also want to use Harry Potter as my messenger. Accept this or there is no deal."

Snape winced as another wave of pain smashed around in his mind space. "Dumbeldore would be wary. But as for me, I give you permission to contact him."

Voldemort smiled and glancing down at the withering Snape, "Oh don't worry, I already contacted him. Just wanted to see how willing and desperate you were." He turned to leave.

"Take care Severus." Snape felt the shadowed presence of the dark lord leave him. He missed it. The darkness was comforting.