Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.
Chapter 35
The Headmaster's office at Hogwarts School of wizardry and witchcraft had its own signature appeal. It was a seat of prestige and decorum that saw the rise of many of the stalwarts of magical folks, whose history was lauded and praised about in golden eternalized magical ink. Currently, this office guarded by its formidable gargoyle was in shambles.
It might no longer contain those million knick knacks that Albus Dumbledore loved to collect. But it had ancient books, texts, scrolls, tomes, periodicals and manuscripts that had the capacity to educate any mediocre portioner to perform magnificent feats in their singular trade. The office now belonged the most formidable wizard of the present time. And this wizard was standing shocked to the very core of his being. His office had paid the heavy price at the altar of the uncontrolled burst of his magical field.
Bookshelves had been ripped from the walls, portrait frames had crashed on the floor, exotic portions contained in a myriad of jars and decanters had spilled forth after their glass containers were reduced to dust. Loose parchments fluttered in the thick air of the room, like down feathers. Amidst the smoke, the vapors rising from mostly unaided mixing of potions, fluttering paper, the headmaster's ornate desk lay flattened on the floor, next to one wild Severus Snape. His hands were still trembling, the magical surge had unsettled his nerves. Within the fingers of his one hand, he still had that oddly familiar letter held on precariously, the very one Draco Malfoy had handed over, whispering in his ears,"Mother sends her compliments." No sooner had the young man arrived, Narcissa's owl had dropped that letter onto his son's lap. Draco had looked at it quizzically, then he had looked around, taking account of the many witches and wizards gathered in the office. Delivering the parchments to Snape directly, the godson had gone back to his seat.
Narcissa Malfoy had joined this godforsaken meeting and was shooting him apologetic glances all throughout. He staggered slightly on his feet. One of his boots touched the case Molly Weasley had handed him over. Again, the same oddly familiar sensation made him feel unsettled.
Snape desperately tried to form a word, tried to wet his parched throat, but he choked, his mouth as dry as a desert. A soft flutter of wings followed by the phoenix familiar, the trustworthy companion of Dumbledore flew over and sat in front of him. Fawkes peered at him. Compassion written in its very eyes. Slowly it started to sing a soft comforting and soothing tune, that could put babies to sleep perhaps. Severus began rocking on his feet, with the rhythm of the enticing tune. But was still unable to say a word.
Moved beyond rational explanation, he stood swaying to and for to the tune, his eyes burning with tears. It took a while for the first few broken words to come out of his mouth, "Herm…" "Lil". His hands automatically made their way up to his chest, and he clutched onto it. A slap landed on his buttoned-up waistcoat, then two and then his hand was raining blow after blow. He was beating his own chest, heaving and keening, as he continued to sway on his feet. His magic was still rampantly bouncing around the room.
A man could manage to have only this much of strength! Severus Snape had been through hell and back, and this was a roller-coaster trip around the whole universe if there was one, in a span of a handful of seconds. His knees could no longer hold on the weight of his severity, his pride in self-discipline and indomitable spirit. Finally he tipped out of balance. Swaying forward, he landed ungracefully on all his fours. Out of natural reflex, his hands braced for his fall. One hand touched the case and the other his fallen wand. Still, in shock he picked up both. In a trance-like state, he brought them closer…"
The case still carried her smell. He could clearly remember the day they both had walked hand in hand in to Olivander's wand shop. While the wand maker had looked at the gangly boy with an apprehensive look, he had beamed at the sweet girl with long red hair beside him.
To Lily he had informed," Just Yesterday, I sold its mate," handing her wand, a 10 ¼ willow, swishy piece of long wood. His friend had frowned at that. Turning to him, eyeing his ebony wand, she had all but countered, " But I thought my best friend should have the mate wand. Why does he have a different one?"
Tucking his tongue, the old wand maker had looked at Snape and explained," Miss Evans, the wizard or the witch selects a wand. The wand answers to their magic alone and not to their fancies or their wishes. Mr. Snape's wand is capable of doing great things. Both dangerous and exceptionally good. But definitely dangerous enough. I don't remember selling a single one of this kind. It is too simple, elusive, jade black, yet detailed at the hilt. Much like our mysterious mind. But one must always question the true intent of a silent mind. Silent men are like still waters of the ocean. They are deep…"
Snape couldn't quite tear his eyes off the old man while Lily had had enough of his riddles. Plucking his wand off his hand, she had given it a determined swish. The tip had immediately sparkled sending flashes across the dingy wand shop.
Smiling at the flabbergasted wand maker, she had replied airly," Now what are you going to say about that? My friend Severus is quiet but that does not make him dangerous. He is far intuitive but that does not make him viciously manipulative. He is kind and quite an avid reader. I am most certain Mr. Olivander, my friend here will one day become the brightest wizard you have had to honour to sell a wand. Even with his simple wand he will create wonders, mark my words."
Finally thanked him politely, she had pulled her friend out of the shop. Taking her friend's wand in her hand, she had vehemently pointed out," A wand is just a wand, Sev. It is what you wish to do with it, matters in the end. It's there in one of your books Sev. That's just an old man weaving fantastic tales. Trust me, Sev. you are too good to be dangerous, at times you are quiet, but that only makes you a good listener. Cheer up now. And let's go and find the apothecary you are talking about. Oh! Look, Mum and Tunie are back from Madam Malkins!"
Severus stared at his wand and thought about Yūkan'na sō's philosophical discourses and Griphooks' reference to Magical Affinities. All of them were trying to tell him something all this while. Feeling the texture of his wand he realised, if Lily was right so was his mother, Elieen Snape Prince.
A/N: Still around, still doing fine enough. sending prayers to all cross the globe, during these testing times. A bit of the past and a bit of the present, I have tried to weave together both to allow the reader a tiny peep into that magnificent palace of memories locked inside Severus Snape's mind. Drop a word, about what you think about the whole of it.