A/N: One week left till the final movie, you guys… I don't think my heart can take it anymore!

Disclaimer: I don't own either series.

Chapter 3: Wammy's House of Horrors

Snape woke up to a raging headache. It felt like a herd of centaurs were stampeding through his brain. He gingerly touched the bump forming on his head and struggled to his feet, trying desperately to remember what he was doing half-conscious in a parking lot at nighttime.

Then it came rushing back to him.

"The Muggles," Snape growled, plunging his hands into his robes.

When his fingers met with air, he stiffened.

"Lumos," Snape called out.

The parking lot remained dark. There was not a wink of the telltale light that should've set his wand aglow if it was still in the vicinity. Evidently, that was not the case.

Snape cursed under his breath for the umpteenth time that day.

"Wow! So you mean they were meant to succeed L?" Matsuda said in disbelief as he stared down at the sketches before him.

Linda, a famous artist and former resident of Wammy's House, nodded.

"That one's Near," she said, pointing to the drawing of a boy with white curls and eyes so dark, emotionless, vacant, robotic, malicious, nasty, cold and a bunch of other descriptive contradicting synonyms that they seemed to suck out Matsuda's soul into the very paper.

"N," Aizawa affirmed.

"And this one's Mello," Linda continued, handing Matsuda the other drawing.

Matsuda glanced down at the page and immediately gasped.

"Who cut his hair?" he demanded. "He must've been teased something awful!"

"On the contrary. Mello was one of the biggest bullies here at Wammy's," the caretaker, Roger Ruvie, interjected.

"Tell us more," Aizawa pressed.

"Mello's the polar opposite of Near. They're like yin and yang, representing the two extremes of L," Linda said angstily. "If Near is ice, Mello is fire. Near is cold, and Mello is hot. While Near is a quiet, unfeeling machine, Mello is a loud, volatile train wreck... They're two forces that co-exist and balance each other out, two powers that would be unstoppable if they worked as one..."

"Oh, and Near wears white and Mello wears black," Roger added helpfully.

"Thanks, we get the picture," said Aizawa.

"We appreciate all your help, it'll definitely aid us in our investigation!" Matsuda exclaimed.

"No problem," Linda replied, packing up her supplies and getting ready to leave. "Though I still don't see how two drawings would help you with anything, we could've easily just provided you with a description instead. Now that I think about it, why are we even helping you? Especially since people think that Kira's co-operating with you guys? Aren't we putting Mello and Near in danger now that the police know what they look like?"

"Probably, but who cares?" said Roger.

The bell above the door jingled eerily as Snape swept through the entrance of Ollivander's Wand Shop.

"Ah, Mr. Severus Snape," a wispy voice floated toward him, and the wandmaker hobbled into view. "Good evening. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I need a replacement," Snape said curtly.

Ollivander looked appalled. "You are aware that your magical abilities may suffer greatly with a new wand?"

"I have no choice," Snape snapped. "I've misplaced mine, so I'll need a temporary one for the time being."

"Well, let's see what I have..."

An hour later, Snape found himself surrounded by opened boxes, rumpled wrapping paper and discarded wands. The wandmaker, who normally delighted in troublesome matches, was noticeably anxious.

"As you know, the wand chooses the wizard," Mr. Ollivander said almost apologetically. "It seems like there was and ever will be only one wand meant for you, Severus."

Snape suddenly clutched at his heart.

"I remember that day very clearly," Ollivander sighed. "Blackthorn, thirteen inches, dragon heartstring. You came in with Lily Evans..."

"I'll be on my way now," Snape said icily. "May I use your fireplace?"

"Yes, yes... ah, here's the Floo powder..."

Snape took a handful from the proffered bowl and tossed it into the flames. The instant they turned a brilliant emerald green, he uttered:

"Hogwarts, the Headmaster's Office."

Roger was showing Matsuda and Aizawa the way out when several children randomly ran up to them.

"Oh, look, they're so cute!" Matsuda cried blissfully, but shuddered when he noticed that none of them had any eyebrows.

A tribute to L, perhaps? Matsuda thought. That's kinda creepy...

One of the little girls looked him up and down, then sniffed condescendingly.

"We're geniuses with intelligence quotients on par with Einstein. Don't call us cute."

"Um, well, IQ isn't everything, you know," Matsuda said lamely.

"Sure it is. We're so smart, we've been helping the police solve cases since day one. It's basically our homework. Tell him, Roger."

"It's true," said Roger.

"Is that even legal?" Aizawa wanted to know. "It sort of sounds like child exploitation or something."

"It's a learning experience for them. They're putting their minds to good use and we're helping them reach their full potential," Roger explained, rolling his eyes as though he was tired of hearing Wammy's House being portrayed as some kind of depressing evil hellhole that churned out child soldiers even though it functioned like any other typical educational institution preparing and molding kids for their well-being and future careers and then releasing them into the vicious competition and brutal economy of the real world. Preach. So what if "A" committed suicide and "B" went nuts? They weren't even canon.

Aizawa frowned. "You're helping them reach their full potential by exposing them to the horrors of the world at an early age?"

"Everyone already has dark and terrible pasts of varying degrees," the young girl said somberly. "After all, we're orphans. We're orphans for a reason, and we're here because we're special and because we want to be here. And don't even think of playing the brainwashing card, because that's totally overdone."

Aizawa clamped his mouth shut.

Matsuda couldn't contain his curiosity. "Do you have any special talents or abilities?" he piped up.

One of the boys laughed. "Like what, X-ray vision?"

"No, like...like...sports. Running and jumping and kicking things around! Kung-fu, karate chop!"

Blank stares.

"No? What about the arts? Painting, singing, dancing, playing an instrument? Er, maybe cooking? Hello? Nothing?"

The group of children glared at Matsuda as though he had said something blasphemous.

"What good are talents to detectives in training?" the smallest girl scoffed. "They'd just get us labeled Mary Sues and Gary Stus faster than you can say "OCs suck balls" and nobody wants THAT."

"Heh?"

"We do, however, have interesting quirks!" one of the boys jumped in, jamming a thumb up his nose and then licking it enthusiastically.

"So then what makes these kids so much more special than the millions of other smart girls and boys out there, exactly?" Matsuda asked Roger.

The caretaker shrugged. "I honestly have no idea. Come to think of it, I'll probably just shut this place down and become Near's Watari when he defeats Kira. I've always been on Team Near, you see..."

Roger ripped off his shirt to reveal a sparkly white tank top underneath with a large gothic letter N on it.

"Woohoo! Go Near!" Roger shouted, jiggling his man-boobs.

"Aizawa, let's get out of here," Matsuda said, throwing up in his mouth.

"I'm right behind you."

"Severus!" came Dumbledore's exclamation as Snape burst through the Headmaster's fireplace. "What kept you so long? The Sorting and Welcoming Feast are over now."

"Did you give Potter and Weasley fitting punishments?" Snape asked quickly.

"Yes, I've already spoken to Argus and Professor Lockhart about it. They'll be making the arrangements," Dumbledore replied.

"ME GUSTA. Ahem. As for the flying car Obliviations..."

Snape hesitated, glancing up at the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses mounted on the office walls, who all appeared to be sleeping.

Dumbledore wordlessly gestured toward the Pensieve sitting on his desk.

Snape shook his head. "I can't. I...I don't have my wand."

"Where is it?" Dumbledore asked shrewdly.

Snape grimaced and braced himself for the explosion.

"A Muggle took it. Two Muggles, actually."

The portraits instantly "woke up" and began shouting excitedly, filling the office with loud buzzing.

"How irresponsible –"

"–endangering our world..."

"Merlin's beard!"

"...wait till Fudge hears about this..."

"I LOOOVE TUUUURTLES!"

"Quiet!" Dumbledore commanded, and everyone fell silent. "And where do you think you're going, Phineas?"

Phineas Nigellus Black paused mid-way to the edge of the frame of his portrait.

"Um, nowhere, Dumbledore."

"None of you will breathe a word of this, do you understand? You are bound to serve me, not the Ministry."

"Yes, yes," Phineas grumbled, sulking back into the canvas.

Dumbledore turned his attention to Snape. "Severus, did the Muggles see you use it? The wand?"

"They saw me try, I even Levitated one of them, but for some reason..." Snape broke off, realizing something.

"What?"

"Emotionally speaking, the Muggles didn't seem to react to the actual magic," Snape replied. "One of them was more concerned with the exposure of his private areas."

"Hmm," said Dumbledore. "How odd."

"I need to fix this. I need to get my wand back," Snape declared, circling Dumbledore's desk to study his delicate silver instruments, one of which was emitting puffs of smoke shaped like an upright Thestral. "Can you help me?"

Dumbledore raised a silvery brow. "I'm Dumbledore. I can do anything."

A/N: Dumbledore is a BEAST. He will not, however, be accompanying Snape on his pending adventure. Sorry! Hogwarts, however, may possibly play a role in this later on. Mwahahaha. Oh, and Snape's wand details are actually unknown, so I just made them up, heh.

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(Nah, not really.)