A/N: A big thanks to those who have reviewed. Trust me guys it really helps me when someone leaves a review!
Disclaimer: I always strive to be original but, given the amount of HP fan-fiction out there, almost everything has probably been done before. Oh and I don't own Harry Potter, they belong to Jk.
A mirror shows reflection of oneself, one's face. One usually expects to recognize one's own reflection on the mirror. But this was certainly not the case with a man, with sallow skin and a hooked nose. Severus Snape did not recognize what he saw when he stared at his own mirror. The bags under his eyes, the pale skin and the bloodshot eyes would led anyone to be concern over a particular individual. No, these things didn't concern him anymore. He was used to this appearance. He had been tossed around powerful figures far too long to actually care for his life. Anger, revulsion, disgust, could only describe the tip of the iceberg of how he truly felt. An instant later mirror on the wall lay shattered and he watched in strange satisfaction his reflection getting destroyed.
He welcomed the pain, and then cried out. A shard of glass had embedded itself between his knuckles. Severus Snape was a broken man. He didn't fear Azkaban, though Dumbledore would keep him out of it. Everything had come crashing down and he knew he was to blame. Even the betrayal of Black admittedly came across as a shock, but it did nothing soothe him out of his predicament. Blame lay on his shoulders, and that much he accepted, readily. Looking back at the choices he'd made, it seemed that he did everything in his power to spite Potter and his gang.
Potter was a bully, and so Snape joined a gang who bullied(and killed) on much larger scale. For Snape was satisfied for a while as he considered himself in the grand scheme of things. Potter was rich, and he would be richer, Lord Voldemort had said so! Potter got a beautiful girl, and Snape would get a lot of 'Mudbloods' for his pleasure. He didn't like the idea of committing rape, but it was the thought that counted. Yes, he could have everything he wanted. He was already powerful, and now he was appreciated for his efforts in potion brewing. He was ever so pleased when Voldemort had said, "I see potential in you, Severus."
Severus- apart from revenge, wanted recognition, Voldemort recognized it so well. In fact, as severus analyzed they all had been played. Voldemort preferred people as they could be easily manipulated, subverted for his own ends. Some for money, some for power while Severus was for potions. There was no greater goal Dark Lord wanted to accomplished. No, it was all an illusion.
Snape realized this much too late. Gradually he learnt to look past the praise given to him, and search behind those words to grasp his real intention. An year passed in flurry, and he got nothing as he was promised, praise was given freely but promises were naught. He didn't dare to ask him about such things, he had seen people getting crucioed far too often. Soon, he began questioning on what truly this was all about. This wasn't what Voldemort had promised, no he wanted all to himself. But this came after the home of Potter's was destroyed. Lily was dead and he had failed to save what truly mattered to him in the end. Her friendship.
Snape laughed at Potter at first, and laughed like the megalomaniac Dark Lord laughed ever so often. Potter who trusted his friends to a fault, Potter who would do anything for his 'friends'; little did he know that Black would go ahead and destroy his entire family. Personally he had to hand it to Black, to twist the dagger into someone's heart was not a thing one could do lightly. Maybe that mutt had finally lost his marbles and thought it would be a brilliant prank to do that. Who knows how the mind of Black worked? Yes, the insane laughter of him when he was caught supported this fact.
In his shortcomings Snape admitted that he had a vindictive streak a mile wide and he sought to go out of his way to make sure he got his way and watch other get hurt. Perhaps that was why he was his own enemy at times. He had gain this sense and still it loath to admit that he had chose wrong. Both morally and strategically. But it was true, it wasn't hard to stare at the hard facts laying right in front of him. For him there was nothing left, for many surviving the war meant a new beginning for many, he was not sure anymore. Or anything.
He wished he could just perform a memory charm and start to live his life again. But one of the sad drawbacks of memory charm was that it could take away the memories, but not the emotions. And after witnessing remnants of the war, he doubted if a memory charm would even be successful. Some memories are too deeply established to remove. Memory which had a profound effect on one's life and such. Same went to the memories which had a powerful emotion behind it. Even if Snape managed to wipe his entire memories, he would question himself why he felt such disgust with himself. There was a very real possibility that he would commit suicide.
But in truth he was a coward. He was not Gryffindor like lily; Snape was a Slytherin through and through. And for the first time he questioned of it being a good thing. Sure, he had survived. Even when playing a role of spy, he had survived. Never in his life he had dreamed that he would fool the 'Dark Lord' and live to tell the tale. But survival didn't mean a thing if he had nothing to look forward to. His life was a sad disappointment, loitered with so many problems that he was surprised that he had come through unharmed, better than others. Perhaps he should utilize it of this chance landed on his hands.
And then again, there was Dumbledore. The old coot even had the nerve of offering him the post of potion master at Hogwarts. He would constantly be on his case. The naive hope had been destroyed that Dumbledore could do anything. He had fail to do one thing that he had asked, no begged to do- keep Lily safe. Now he knew that no one was infallible; not even Lord Voldemort. And here was Albus blathering about keeping Harry Potter safe? Didn't Albus realize that he had enough hate to last a lifetime? With Potters no less?
'Ah...' Snape thought. He could already picture his response.
'Hate is such a strong word Severus.' And then he would proceed to twist the dagger more, 'He has her eyes Severus, Lily's eyes!'
Blood oozed out of his hands just as water would when squeezed out of the wet cloth. It hurt too much for too long, and there was nothing Severus could do about it. All Severus wanted to do was to rip his heart out and keep it frozen in a box. He occluded his mind before the creative ideas arrived and his dark orbs soon became vacant.
And as he made his way to potions lab in his house and darkness enveloped him. This will be his life now, this is what fate had to offer. And rather than to drag unwillingly he chose to accept it. His passion was still alive, and he would spent years caring for the thing that had always been true for him, his one constant companion.
It would allow him to ignore everything that had ever occurred, for potions brewing required absolute attention and focus. He would become a potions master possibly aim to be youngest in Europe. That had been the general idea to him ever since he was a boy. His mother had been his first teacher to teach him how to brew potions and it was also what he and Lily were going to do. Before the words had betrayed him, before nothing was left unsaid.
In a far corner of britain, young saviour of the wizarding world lay in darkness. Sun hadn't come out yet, and Petunia being Petunia, had a habit to read newspaper early in the morning, especially the gossip column. Before Vernon would descend, she would make herself a good cuppa and inhale its smell as she opened front page to read the news before spending times adoring various apparels and jewellery celebrities wore. The house was quiet just as she liked. But this was not any morning where she was reading paper. No, her eyes subtly glanced at the baby's forehead and as she sat twisting her hands as she contemplated what to do. Whatever real feelings she had for her sister had vanished.
As a little girl, she went at lengths to please her parents. All she wanted some attention, some praise that she was valued. Sure her parents would praise her; it did feel good to receive praise, but her parents would literally fawn over Lily for whatever she'd do. Even when her sister was at that 'freak' school, she managed to send letters and small gifts. Whatever petunia would do to top her sister, it faded in contrast to her sister. Why? Because she had magic. To her parents it was just sibling rivalry and it pricked her every time they favoured her. She went to a special school while a common high school awaited for her. No matter what she did to prove her worth it was always, always less appreciated than her sister.
As years passed, her resentment increased further. Even when she brought home the boy, which she hoped to get married, her parents didn't like her choice. Her parents didn't put in so many words, but the looks on their face spoke volumes. Then her parents were killed, by those freaks and it was all her fault. From that time Lily Potter was dead to her, and she didn't need any memories or reminders of 'that' world ever again. And thus, her death didn't affect her in a way most deaths would affect her.
She closed her eyes as she re-read letter accompanied by the baby. It was strange, for her contemplating what she would do with 'it'. How dare they simply put a child in front of the door with a note? How dare they presume that they would take the him in? She was well aware of what freaks thought for people like her. That didn't give them right to just expect them to obey like servants, she thought and flicked her eyes at the sleeping baby.
Anger boiled in her as she looked on the boy. Anger at the freaks, and she knew that he would be just like them. Well she would show the freak who was the boss of this house and who was the servant.
The goblin nation was working overtime. Goblins were known to work hard, to manage accounts of people. They would work relentlessly till their work was finished. No one had ever heard them complaining about account settlement. Their small 'fee' would sometimes bring good amount of gold to them. Yes, there were times when there was a dispute in account settlement when two or more parties would be involved. Goblins would absolutely hate it when wizards would cast a suspicious eye on them when they would finalize the claim. Thus to say that goblin nation was working overtime was saying something. They were trying to settle the account of the 'Potter's.'
Harry James Potter, now the sole heir of the vaults and the properties; goblins were busy in transferring the deeds to him.
Word had reached the Gringotts Department of Information and Credibility that the Dark Lord Voldemort, was dead. Goblins were well aware of the threat of the Dark Lord. He had number of followers and he considered them expendable. Goblins however, never considered fellow goblin as a thing to be used only to be thrown away when it looses its value. The prospect of being drawn into a war over it had not been a pleasant one. Oh, they would probably win that war, but it would not be without costs. The Goblins clearly owed the boy a great debt, and goblins always paid their debts.
"Still working on the Potter vaults?" Sharpclaw remarked snidely to Barchoke. His jealousy was quite plain for Barchoke having to manage a good fortune of the Potter's while he managed a lowly account.
"It's nasty business." Barchoke said offhandedly. He was too busy to pay attention to his jibes. Sharpclaw wanted to retort back and was currently in process of thinking a clever way to come back at him. In the meantime the director of the bank stepped inside.
"How goes the settlement of Potter Vaults, Barchoke?" Ragnarok walked in, he had been informed of troubles by Barchoke of Potter's account settlement. The enmity ceased and both stood up to honor director of Gringotts.
"Its troubling Director Ragnarok." Barchoke said in what appeared to be respectful tone.
"How so?" Ragnarok said. Ragnarok was above looking over the account managers, but Gringotts were known for their efficiency and swiftness in things like this. It also helped that goblins owed a debt to him the Potter's.
"The will of James Charlus Potter and Lily James Potter is sealed." Barchoke said in a irritable tone.
"Who sealed the wills?" Ragnarok demanded. It was a well established fact that ministry does not interfere in the business of Gringotts and goblins would leave them alone. The wills of Pureblood families would be enacted by the goblins unless specified otherwise. They were responsible for financial accounts after all.
"Albus Dumbledore." Barchoke replied. All three goblins fumed. He held too much power to be tousled with. 'Well two can play that game', Ragnarok thought.
"Seal the vaults! If he thinks we would do anything without the wills then he is mistaken." Ragnarok commanded.
"What about the...estates of Dark lord?" The last part was said in a whisper. Ears of goblin present perked up.
"He is on record claiming the estates of 40 British families that he wiped out, killed to the last member, and another 59 families outside of Britain. All the proper paperwork was filed and witnessed claiming over the deeds. Some of the estates are very small, but others are huge. In addition there is a lot of money that was stolen from the ministry." Ragnarok replied in a monotonous voice going over the facts of his file. He didn't have his vault in Gringotts but the deeds were presented by his representative to notify them.
"The law dictates..." Barchoke began.
"I very well know what the law dictates!" Ragnarok snapped. If they would follow the law, then Barchoke would be handling the richest boy in all over Europe possibly in most parts of the world.
"Pass everything over to him and seal everything, until he comes to claim it in person."
"The ministry will want their money back." Sharpclaw said cautiously.
"We want the Potter's will back. Even if they demand, the stolen money, they would first have to prove that it was actually stolen by 'him'. I would like to see Fudge pointing fingers to the people he had just released.
"What if they demand the properties in name of 'him'?" Barchoke asked tentatively.
"The claim of ownership clearly goes to Potter boy by right of conquest. They can't possibly bend that particular law, it has been the law of the land since and purebloods won't change the law that benefits them." Ragnarok sneered.
"Ministry isn't so foolish to claim over other people's rightful property, especially Potter's properties. Seal the properties belonging the boy too, I don't want ministry trying anything funny." Ragnarok gave a feral smile, and the two goblins followed. Ragnarok left Barchoke to his work and serenely walked out of his office while sharpclaw squirmed in jealousy.
The hundreds of elf's bound to their property yearned to connect with their master, and do something useful. Many house-elf's had given birth and now had to take care of their families. Without their master, they would all die. They were without choice, and thus stayed in their manors meanwhile looking after their master's house.
Baba Yaga thought about what what she'd learnt. Dementors were now regular visitors and she would usually converse with them from time to time. They would flock in few numbers and give their greetings to the witch. The images she had 'downloaded' from dementors provided quite an insight in today's world. She was sceptical about what she had learnt. The wizarding world had not changed much. The people who were in power, or had wealth still ruled over the common masses. The 'ministry' was a new concept to her, and she connected them to them to being king of the country. The only difference between them was the powerful people were in charge in making decisions and passing the law.
It certainly provided a nice illusion over the common masses, that they held power. Since, only the pure-bloods controlled the ministry, they could dictate new laws in decisions on their whim, she reasoned. She had heard the word 'wizengamot' or something, it was hard to recognize what the dementors were trying to communicate. She learnt about the natures of dementors and was ecstatic about their power. However, sucking the soul and happy emotions was an alternative diet to them. It took lot of effort on them to 'digest' the energy from emotions and lot harder from souls. Souls while being a good source of food, was not ideal. And they hoped that she could provide them with something better.
Now she had started a side project, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. She wanted to make deal with the dementors, and currently she was trying to figure out what actually pleased them. A newly formed pudding(of sorts) lay in her hands, as she added ingredients. She had a faint idea of what would constitute their diet. It was the same ingredient used by necromancers- 'Pile of vile essence' or black goo, as she referred to it. Add a drop of vitality, and you get an animated corpse. But for now, she was incorporating these ingredients in pudding. Ministry didn't allow them to suck out happiness from other people. Even she didn't fancy dementors sucking her emotions. So, she would fatten them up- literally speaking. Lord Voldemort controlled dementors because he had offered them free reign over common masses. They wanted to feed and Lord Voldemort had provided them with food.
She knew exactly how powerful that made him- to be able to control dementors. She would utilize it to the same effect, to her benefit. She had no plans to dominate, but they would provide protection and she wanted to get all the protection she could get. Also, in the time of need she could call on their support. The ministry were under illusion that they controlled the dementors, but dementors had pledged themselves strictly to Lord Azkaban, or its throne. Since there was no one to claim it, blood or magic wise, it had fallen under jurisdiction of Ministry. Ministry and people seemed to be ignorant about the way claims were made in the old days.
However, full recipe would have to wait since she was undergoing the purification rituals. The 'Light' energy had aversion to the energy which she was familiar with. And hence she was far away from her house, so as not to contaminate it. She now had a vague sense of purpose, to find a balance between two magics. Light and dark, and was it just coincidence or not; she didn't know but that was the basic aim of a necromancer. Respect life and death, Light and Dark, these two terms were usually synonymous. The basic aim, she had overlooked and now she would take steps that it never happened again, ever.
She walked back to her house with a spring in her step. Doing something helped her not to focus on the havoc raging inside her mind. The grasp of Evil was slowly weakening and Yaga could feel the the energies fighting to establish themselves. She did realize that the battle had just begun and it would be a while and lot of pain later she could call herself sane.
A/N: Time jump on the way!