It was nearly midnight, and Albus Dumbledore returned to his family house in Godric's Hollow with a sigh. He unlocked the door with a wave of his hand and entered the rather derelict place, staring at the stairs with tears in his ice blue eyes.
To this day, he still regretted his sister's death over a squabble with his old friend, Gellert Grindelwald.
Taking his seat at the armchair nearby the fireplace, Albus pondered on what he had gathered so far about the Lions' recent graduates. When Sirius Black was Sorted into Gryffindor, Albus was more than happy since the boy had been the first to break his family's tradition. He even thought it was a good sign, especially with the rumors that the Blacks were a powerful lot and many wizarding families were related to them in a way.
And so, despite everything that had happened just before the N.E.W.Ts, he was still suspicious of the circumstances regarding Sirius' murder. Oh, he had no doubts that Remus Lupin had been the culprit, but as his godson James Potter had howled many times; why would Sirius go to the Shrieking Shack?
"Sirius… h- he was so eager to find the Chamber of Secrets," James sobbed out after one of the Order's meetings. "S- Said that he would be the hero the Blacks had never had. I mean… I could see why he wanted to do it. H- He might be a blood traitor to his family, but he told me… He told me that he still missed his parents' adoring looks of approval and such. That incident with the Muggles really ruined him."
Albus narrowed his eyes. Could his plan to uncover the location of Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets be the reason why Sirius was killed? Had the boy actually found where the hidden place was? But who had showed it to him? Was it, in a way, a plot of revenge or to prevent from anyone else to locate the Chamber? What of?
Could it be…?
Albus quickly pushed the notion away. Severus Snape might be a strange boy and perhaps a bit too vengeful (with good reasons, the man thought sadly), but even he had known the possibility of Snape being connected to Tom Riddle was nearly zero. The once great headmaster of Hogwarts thought Snape's relationship with Lily Evans was wonderful until it turned sour on both sides. Besides, for all those years he heard tales from his godson, Snape never showed an ability to talk to snakes.
As he made himself comfortable in his armchair, he couldn't help but to wonder why Snape of all people, was connected to most, if not all, scuffles and fights with James Potter and his friends in Hogwarts. Was it merely schoolboy rivalry or there was something else hidden beneath those skirmishes?
Albus still thought the werewolf 'prank' Sirius had played on Snape was dangerous and could tarnish everything he had built after Grindelwald's defeat into dirt; imagine the scornful looks the parents would give him upon knowing their savior allowed such dangerous being into the school!
The wizened warlock fell into a fitful sleep.
Eileen Snape sighed as she looked inside of the house she and her husband lived in while reading a book to pass the time.
Spinner's End used to be rather lively back when she first set her foot there, with the mill being the main working place. Her husband, Tobias had worked hard to support her in spite she didn't know much about the Muggle world, and when Severus came along, they were a modest happy family.
Until Severus' magical ability manifested itself and Tobias beat them both as if to drive the demonic power away from them. Now, the house was somewhat permanently covered with soot despite the mill had stopped operating and her best effort to sweep over the place in a regular basis.
How she wished she possessed her son's determination to get out of the gloomy neighborhood, even thinking he was the real strength the Prince family needed instead of her. Though as it was, her loyalty and marriage bonds bound her to the man she (still) loved and unless he died first, Eileen had no guarantee she would live long afterward.
Three knocks on the wooden door brought Eileen out of her trance and she looked at the mirror to make herself look presentable to whoever it was outside. When she opened the door, her onyx eyes widened in utmost surprise.
"…Professor Dumbledore," she greeted with a raised eyebrow.
The great old wizard briefly tipped his orange hat, "Good day, Mrs. Snape. If I may enquire, is Severus around?"
She blinked. "Severus…? N- No, he doesn't live here anymore."
"He moved out?"
Eileen almost pursed her lips in annoyance but stopped herself; why couldn't the old man leave already? Still, the haughtiness of her household upbringing made her hide her disdain under fake politeness, "Yes. Is there anything I can help you with, though?"
Dumbledore stroked his long silver beard with furrowed brows. "Has Mr. Snape sent any letters to you over the past few weeks, or months?"
"No, but that's more of my decision than his," Eileen muttered with a sigh, "We… had agreed to not contact each other unless necessary. I mean, I can understand why he ran out from here. I… I haven't been the best mother a child could have, but I still wish him all the best wherever he was."
The old coot nodded somberly. "Thank you for your time then, Mrs. Snape. …If your son comes over, do tell I wish him well." He then Disapparated with a miniscule crack, and Eileen took out the Prince family pendant Severus had given her, tracing the coat of arms with narrowed onyx eyes.
Should she visit her son in Prince Manor and told him about Dumbledore's visit? What did the man want to do with Severus in the first place? Though, perhaps it could wait for another time; her son usually would come over even for ten minutes.
Heaving out a sigh, Eileen went to prepare some food for dinner.
Lord Voldemort was almost finished with his Animagus training.
Being a feared, tremendously powerful Dark Lord in recent history, he easily breezed through the meditation stage though having a mandrake leaf inside his mouth for a month was a bit uncomfortable. All the while, Nagini had her beady black eyes on him, listening attentively to every word of his progress.
The thing was, he didn't know whether to like his supposed animal form or not. He could faintly see it was rather small, perhaps with a broad chest but nothing more than that. His cherished brown snake told him it would be very ironic that he turned out to be anything but a serpent, seeing that he was the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin, the great Parselmouth himself.
Of course, Lord Voldemort had read that no one could simply choose their animal counterpart; it was ingrained within them on what beast they would have similarities with.
He and his faithful companion had gone to a secluded place to catch the rays of the full moon for his potion. The morning dews were a bit hard to collect (for a brief moment, he wondered how wizards in the olden days achieved in getting them), but the moth chrysalis was an easy one due to his connections with the Death Eaters. On this particular night, it had been a month since he first began his training.
Putting Nagini in a protective bubble charm, Lord Voldemort then summoned a cloud of electrical storm and waited for the lightning to appear. When a bright flash of light broke into the sky, the two quickly entered a nearby shack and the Dark Lord muttered, "Amato Animo Animato Animagus," for the final time before consuming the potion.
Nagini observed closely as her owner seemingly shrank down and tilted her head in utmost puzzlement before her mouth gave into a smile upon seeing his animal form.
She only hoped Severus Prince would appreciate the Dark Lord's effort to be with him as inconspicuously as possible.
July arrived without any major events, and Severus was glad of it.
He had begun to acquaint with Prince Manor's house-elves, who all greeted him with utmost kindness and respect wherever Septimus took him out for a stroll in the gardens or visiting the kitchens. He was curious about the magic used by the house-elves, and wondered if he could learn them in a way or another.
Whenever the weekend rolled by, Severus would make his medication potions in the laboratory and though he enjoyed doing such mundane chores of cutting ingredients and stirring, he couldn't help but to wonder how long he have to keep up with such acts. Sure, he had killed Sirius Black for all the grief the damned boy had inflicted on him, but was it worthwhile?
He quickly shook his head to banish such thought. Oh, Severus Snape – Severus Septimus Prince - could be remorseful, yes; it's just Sirius Black didn't deserve such forgiveness from him. He certainly couldn't let himself being weak and exposing his vulnerability to other people, fearing to lose control just like with the horrible Boggart incident.
Turning off the fire, Severus then waited for the completed potions to cool down and with a sigh, he took out the spider necklace Francesca Zabini had given him nearly a year ago and ran his fingers over the purple item and the ring next to it.
He had managed to separate his halved soul into seven equal pieces thanks to the Elder Wand's otherworldly power, and had put two of them into the amethyst spider gemstone and the golden ring band of the Resurrection Stone. Though oozing with faint traces of Dark Magic, both trinkets were pulsing with life under his fingertips, and Severus had put some intermediate protective charms to prevent anyone else from getting their hands on the valuable placeholders of his severed soul.
After about fifteen minutes, Severus took out his hazel wand and transferred each of the potions into their respective vials and jars before carefully putting them into his satchel. He then adjusted and moved his wheelchair to the entrance of the room, swung the door open and headed to his room.
A sudden force from behind almost made Severus jump out of his seat and gripping the wheels to stop himself from going any further, he turned to see the basilisk shirked down, bashfully averting his gaze. "I'd appreciate it if you give me some warning first," he admonished lightly.
The great serpent's yellow eyes drooped as if asking for his forgiveness. "You look tired," it said and Severus rolled his eyes good-naturedly; spending nearly three hours in the laboratory simply to make sure he had enough stocks to last for the week was energy-draining to say the least. With a weak smile and a nod, he allowed Salazar to push his wheelchair forward at a considerate pace and simply let it to open the door with its tail.
The basilisk stopped short at his bed and Severus put his numerous potions into the drawer and left some next to the table lamp for his consumption later that day. Barely concealing his yawn, he made a move to grab one of the books on his desk to fight off his drowsiness when Salazar hissed, "You need some rest, Master."
"Just call me Severus, though I won't stop you from calling me 'Master'," he muttered and taking his cane, he hobbled to his bed and landed on his back onto the soft mattress with a relieved sigh. Beckoning the basilisk over to his side, Severus then caressed its scaly head softly as he listened to the great serpent's purrs of contentment.
Before long, both of them fell into a quiet slumber.
Severus woke up a few hours later only to find the space next to him was empty; Salazar must have woken up earlier and went out. Yawning, he then reached for the book he wanted to read and briefly raised his eyebrows upon seeing it was the Secrets of the Darkest Arts.
He was fascinated with Dark Magic, alright; but even then he couldn't help wondering why the ancient tome seemed to make itself prominent these days. It was as if the book was luring him with all the knowledge it had inside, reeling him in like a forbidden fruit.
Knowledge is power, indeed.
Severus absent-mindedly flicked through the yellowing pages, though his eyes caught onto one rather interesting chapter after the Horcruxes' and intrigued, he went to read the description:
TAKING SPELL (BLOOD RITUALS NEEDED)
This spell was now forbidden in modern age, though it was immensely popular amongst wizards and witches back in the early emergence of Magic. Any man could use this spell to take or replace what they initially lacked of with another person and it had no limited range to be used onto. Many accounts were written that some wizards would fight one another and the victor would take the losing party's magical cores so that he would become more powerful.
Eyes now opened wide, Severus went to glance at his injured left leg and gulped. He had come to terms that he wouldn't manage to walk normally again; even considering getting a prosthetic leg (no, he didn't really trust the Healers to simply put on a wooden leg to replace his broken limb) but this spell… It was alluring in many ways.
Severus longingly wished to be able to stand by himself again, needing no help to move around and such. He had relied heavily onto every of his senses since he was a child living in Spinner's End, and to lose an important part of him… well, he might make second thoughts about the amputation business.
Blinking hard, he then continued reading; his sharp mind took in every detail of the rituals the ancient wizards had done all in name of gaining power to themselves.
He barely held himself together after finishing the chapter within an hour. Swallowing his fears away, Severus subconsciously splayed his left hand over his chest, feeling the area was slightly hot. Grimacing, he downed the cooling potion and gripped the empty vial tightly as he narrowed his orange eyes at the hauntingly terrifying chapter.
All the while, Death was looming over him from the shadows.