Chapter 7: The Snape Family Lineage

Chapter 7

The Snape Family Lineage

Sage managed to make it back to Gryffindor that night laden with much headache potion and dreamless sleep potion in his pockets. Apparently, his uncle had gone on a mad brewing fit all afternoon and well into the evening. Sage had not seen him all day, nor had he been concerned about it either. His uncle was in the habit of disappearing like that for hours on end, especially at those sorts of times. The man had managed to hand him the bottles when he returned, bark at him that he was fine now, and tell him to take the book with him back to his own room. Sage wondered what had caused the change in temper in his uncle, but in the end he just settled on the notion that it was Snape's nature. Distancing. Really, it was his nature as well.

The second the words were out of his uncle's mouth, that this might very well kill him, Sage had been uncomfortable sitting there with the man. The emotional tension was so tight, it could have snapped on its own. His own instincts had made him want to be far away. He had no other idea but to shut himself up like Professor Snape would and try to shut out the thoughts as well.

When Sage walked into the common room, everyone blatantly stared at him. He glared back at them, especially the red-headed twins, and headed straight for the stairs to his room. He suddenly wasn't feeling too well. Although that shouldn't be surprising considering he hadn't walked so far since he had the attack. It was a long way from the dungeons to the tower.

Now that he was not occupied in the book, thoughts flew freely into his mind. Thoughts he really did not care to have. You will die, horribly. In pain. He remembered terrible images from one of his visions. The visions of his father's death. Sage finished his uncle's statement for him… You will die, horribly. In Pain. Like your father did. He sat down on the bed as his mind took him back to those haunting images.

The house doors blown open, a figure clad in hooded black, his mother screaming in fear, his father aghast. His mother had known what was coming, he knew his father had too. He knew that his father, like many Snapes, had suffered from prophetic dreams. His mother pleaded. "He is my husband, please don't do this." The figure continued to advance on them. He heard his own cries as a baby coming from a room nearby. The figure spoke, "He is a Potter." His mother grabbed the figure's arms as if she knew who it was, as if she was safe and his father was not. "He is a Snape! Surely you would not kill a Snape. His father, his half-brother, have all been loyal." The figure shook off her hands. "Precisely, my dear, he is a Snape who has made it clear he has no desire to serve. He is a Snape with the tainted blood of a Potter." She tried in vain one last time. "He had nothing to do with anything that filth of a Potter did, half-brother or not, he had nothing to do with it." The figure raised his wand and the word resounded through Sage's head. CRUCIO. His mother was safe, she was a Malfoy. But his father, a man who had been standing tall and proud, knowing that there was nothing he could do, was writhing on the ground. The gasping for breath, the near silent moaning, the redness of his face, the contortion of his features, drove his mother to her knees in horror. Again and again and again the curse was cast on his father, for being suspect, for being a pureblooded Slytherin who had not joined the Dark Lord, for reasons Sage did not understand. Then, after an hour of what Sage knew to be pure hell, his father's life ended with two words. Sage knew, from first hand experience, that his father's last breath in this world was drawn in the most excruciating pain imaginable, or unimaginable for those who had never felt it. Death was a coveted prize at that point, after one minute the average person was wishing for death. After an hour of torture, death had to be the only thought.

Sage closed his eyes and let the images fade before they could get even worse. What happened after that, he had only spoken of once, to his uncle. He had only been a year and a half old and for what had been done to him there was no forgiveness. Those were images he fought back from his consciousness only to wonder if he would die in the same pain as his father. He grabbed the bottle on his dresser and took a quick slug from it so that he could escape his thoughts and fall into dreamless sleep.

Sage had managed to stay locked up in his room the entire rest of the weekend, which was really just all day on Sunday. He had gone through the book he had gotten from Professor Snape and had jotted down notes on the more useful spells and curses that he did not yet know. That had passed the time quite enjoyably for him.

Being alone was something that he always found silent comfort in and after what had happened the last few days, he did not want any interaction with other students. He didn't want to hear about how he was the Potions master's nephew and how he must be a big greasy git just like Professor Snape merely because they were related. He did not want people to stare. He did not want people to ask him about the attacks. He did not want Hermione Granger to ask him, well, anything. The girl really was nosy. Or just annoying. He merely wanted to be left alone, a shadow.

He did not want to feel like he was on display. All he wanted was to exist without any relative annoyance. He did not want to "betray his emotions" as his uncle would say. He did not want others to know he was angry, or worried, or empty. Some parts of him also did not want to bottle those and take them out on others like Professor Snape did. You could tell when Professor Snape was in a foul mood, he had a temper with a hairline trigger. Unfortunately, Sage had a very similar temper, but did not want to direct it towards anyone.

He was happy with just bottling his anger and frustration and all his feelings for that matter and not ever releasing them. Unlike his uncle, Sage could not release all of his aggression on other students anyway, even if he did want to. The Potions master could do that because he was a professor. Sage had to live with these people. Although, he was not so sure he could keep himself in control with what had occurred since Thursday.

Transfiguration class had gone by easily enough on Monday, just because he had been the last person into the room, sat in the back, and was the first person to leave. Nobody had a chance to ask him questions. They stared a bit and whispered to each other. No doubt about how mean he must be because he is a Snape. He did catch a funny glance from that bushy-haired Granger girl, and he wasn't sure what that was for. He certainly wasn't going to waste his time analyzing it.

Potions was also going as well. That was simply because nobody really dared to talk in any of Snape's classes. Also, nobody could harrass him about being a Snape in front of Professor Snape…that would have been a death wish. It also seemed as if some students were starting to be afraid of him just because he was a Snape. He found that both annoying, that people would judge so ridiculously, and beneficial, people pretty much left him alone.

It was not until the middle of class when their potions had to sit and simmer for about fifteen minutes, that things started to go awry. Since nobody was meticulously chopping and adding ingredients, they had nothing to do other than to talk amongst themselves. Sage started to catch snippets of conversations and began to notice how many glances were heading his direction. He sat with his arms across his chest in silent annoyance.

"Draco, did you know that he was Professor Snape's nephew?" Pansy asked.

Draco, in all his Malfoy glory, puffed out his chest. "Of course I knew. He's my cousin after all. Professor Snape asked me to keep it a secret. You know, he didn't want just anyone knowing that Sage is his nephew or that my aunt was married to his brother."

Sage rolled his eyes as he overheard this. Malfoy was turning his miniscule knowledge about Sage's life into something to brag about. That kid could turn anything into something to brag about.

"I can't believe he's a Snape. I can't believe he's related to you somehow, Harry. I mean, does this mean you're related to Snape too, because I just don't think I could handle that," the Weasley kid said.

"Ron! Of course I'm not related to that greasy git. I mean, he hates me. He can't be related to me. I mean it's Snape."

Harry must have said the last two sentences a little too loud, because Snape perked his head up a little bit and had a sudden interest in the classroom banter.

"Do you know what happened last week. He hasn't been in classes or the hospital wing. Do you think it has something to do with Dark Arts that he was falling around on the floor like that?"

"I dunno, but you know Snape and Dark Arts. I mean he's a Snape, right? Probably is just the same. Snape might have even done it to him. I saw him convulsing or something. Maybe he cursed his own nephew."

"ENOUGH!" Snape's voice came booming through the classroom.

Everybody stared up front instantaneously as Professor Snape stood up in front of the class with his eyes piercing every face within a few seconds.

"Since you are all acting like the idiotic children that you are, even some of you from my own house, we will now deal with this issue once and for all. After this, we will hear no more of it. Understood?"

Everybody nodded silently and mechanically.

"As you all heard last Thursday, Sage is my nephew. So, as you have all brilliantly deduced, he bears my same surname as his father was my half-brother. Although the rest of his lineage is nothing of your concern, since you will whisper incessantly making up stories, he truly is also cousin to Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter. The next person to say one word in speculation of the truth will have a week worth of detention, do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Everybody nodded once again.

"Now, twenty points from Gryffindor for saying that I cursed a student, once Thursday and once today."

The Slytherins chuckled.

"And since all of you should also know better," he said looking at his own charges, "I am taking ten points from my own house for not having more sense than the Gryffindor's."

Mouths dropped open.

Sage slid down in his chair.

"What happened on Thursday is the product of Sage's sight, he has visions, and I do not mean the kind that extremely infrequent ones Professor Trelawney has. True sight always has a painful effect on the wizard and as he is so young, has a horrible effect on him. That is why he fell over. And if anyone has any notions that I am going to show any favoritism towards him or any leniency because he is my nephew, you will soon find out that you are very wrong. The fact is, I expect more and better from him than I do from you, because he is much more capable than you dolts, so if anything he is going to enjoy my disfavor in the classroom."

Professor Snape looked pointedly at Sage, "That said, you will be staying after class to discuss some seven days of detention that you owe me too, visions or no visions."

Sage slid down more in his chair. He suddenly had new visions of disemboweling frogs again and separating eyeballs from the sockets of dead animals. Not to mention scrubbing the floors of the damned classroom again.

Sage sat slumped in his chair with a blank expression on his face as the rest of the students clamored out of the classroom. He really was not all too shocked that he would have to serve out the rest of the detention he had earned with his stupidity. Attack or no attack, he knew that Snape would want to make a point that he could not be talked to that way, even by his own nephew.

A few minutes after everyone had left, Professor Snape finally decided to stalk over to him and look down at him.

The Potion's master put his hands down on the table in front of Sage and stared right at his face. "Now that you are recovered, I fully expect that you will be here after dinner so we can resume your tutoring. I won't have you digressing. My expectations for you are great, and you have not yet been meeting them here. Which is why you can get your seven more days of detention that you earned. I will not have you acting like an improper, disrespectful Gryffindor dolt."

Sage was used to this. Some days Professor Snape would be concerned, some days he would be tolerable, and some days he would be outright cold. Sometimes he seemed like an uncle but most of the time he did not.

"Certainly, sir," Sage answered with a slight bitterness in his voice.

Professor Snape, of course, picked up on it but decided to let it go. He wouldn't coddle his nephew, but he certainly wouldn't jump down his throat for that little bitterness. Even Severus Snape was reasonable with his own blood. He wanted students to fear and loathe him, so that they wouldn't give him any problems; Sage did not generally give him problems because he respected him, as both an uncle and a teacher.

Sage had only crossed that border a few times and knew that any disrespect earned him a swift and usually severe punishment. Severus had no desire for the boy to begin to forget that.