Okay. So before I get back onto the story, I'd like to point out some issues a reviewer mentioned. (Thanks, by the way! You mentioned quite a few issues I realised I haven't really explained as well as I should have.)
Mistletoe. Truly, what kind of a name is that? But who was I to give such a character a boring name? I mean, hardly any of the Wizarding characters have plausible names – Mundungus? Nymphadora? It had to be a name that contrasted with Harry's name. Plus, seeing as mistletoe is all red and green, it kind of fit Mistletoe's complexion.
Okay. Mistletoe is NOT meant to be likeable. She's supposed to be stuck-up and frigid, kind of like another Parceltongue who was also a morbid kid. You're right if you're guessing Tom Riddle. I just wanted Mistletoe to get a taste of what being Riddle was like. Therefore, I'm also opening the possibility of her either straying towards Riddle's path or changing her fate this time round.
Mistletoe is definitely NOT all-powerful. She mostly just thinks she is, but she actually has a major problem concerning her magic. You'll understand when she goes to Hogwarts. But for the time being, just think back and try to remember if she's actually performed any accidental magic.
The Dursleys, let me repeat, do NOT, that's right, DO NOT love Mistletoe. But she is treated better than Harry because she earned her worth. No matter what the Dursleys say or think, Mistletoe is the one who bought them all the wealth. And just like any other greedy person, they strive after wealth, and she is the key to their success. Would they lock that key in a cupboard under the stairs? I think not.
The Petunia Dursley in my story is a squib for a reason. If you read over the prologue, you might notice some clues as to why that may be the case.
Some might think I'm treating James and Sirius a little hard in Petunia's chapter. Firstly, remember that this is Petunia's thinking we're reading about. If she thinks Dudley is the light of her life, who's to say her ideas about other things aren't just as biased? And don't forget that Petunia Dursley treated Lily badly as well. Imagine every time Lily was rejected and how she would vent out to her boyfriend. James is probably just an overprotective guy who's never heard Petunia's side of the story. Plus, James and Sirius aren't exactly saints – Severus Snape says it all.
Disclaimed: Harry Potter will forever be JK Rowling's creation.
The following chapter contains thoughts of Mistletoe Potter, mentions of thee Dursleys, quantitative sections containing the Malfoys, healthy doses of Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, brief mentions of Quirinus Quirrell, Dolores Umbridge, and Sybill Trelawney.
Chapter Five: In which a kidnapping is fashioned
INTRODUCING THE MALFOYS
The first Mistletoe noticed about Mr Malfoy was his wicked hairstyle. Even though long hair, according to Aunt Tuney, was quite out of fashion at the mo, Mistletoe quickly decided that the appearance of Lucius Malfoy in such attire would definitely bring it back. The man was also holding a rather elegant (and lethal) looking cane in one hand, the shiny shape of a scull embedded into the metal handle. His dress was formal, too formal for such a party being held on Victoria Street, but his air of arrogance and distain, which Mistletoe could only assume was natural, fitted his expensive clothing like a satin glove.
The next thing she realised was that she couldn't read his mind.
It was such a blow to her arrogance that she grew humble for a few seconds. Then she tried to pierce his mind again, only to fail once more backwards. It was as if a strong brick wall was layered around Mr Malfoy's head. As soon as she tried a third time, Mr Malfoy suddenly stopped inspecting Uncle Vernie's appearance and turned his head swiftly round to face her.
His face was utterly expressionless. Quite a shock to her, really. Hardly an ounce of emotion was present on his face. If his features were a display shelf, it seemed that the shelf would have been unused for quite some time.
"Mistletoe Potter, I presume?" he said, his voice void of feelings. Uncle Vernie wanted to answer for her, for fear of the unusual, but something about Mr Malfoy's expression stopped him. Aunt Tuney too decided to keep to chatting with her gossiping friends, shooting a suspicious glance towards them. Dudley, of course, was too immersed in the wonderful world of chocolate mud cake to care.
Mistletoe decided to scare the man a little, as she had with the Weasleys. "Lucius Malfoy, I presume?" she replied in almost the same tone, allowing a bit of surprise to seep through.
She was far from satisfied when only a hint of emotion seemed to flit through his face. On the fourth try at invading his mind, she found that she had half succeeded. The solid, unbreakable wall was crippling and the barrier between her and his mind were thinning...she caught a glimpse of darkness and an ominous-looking mask before she was rudely thrown out. A sharp headache was forming at an alarming speed, and she knew that it was Mr Malfoy who was the cause.
Half aware that an eerie silence was passing between their gathering, though nothing seemed quiet to Mistletoe, she gave him a glare, finally resorting to throwing him off his guard. She finally succeeded when Mr Malfoy's mask wavered, an expression of fear and pain overcoming his features. A gasp sounded, echoing across the room. Mistletoe finally, reluctantly, broke free from Mr Malfoy's gaze and turned, for the first time, to look behind him.
An tall woman with pale, aristocratic features, stared at her with the same cold air as Malfoy, but displayed her emotions more freely, allowing a touch of curiosity adorn her face. The boy she was desperately clutching on to had the same white-blonde hair as his father, and she could just tell that he had come reluctantly.
Mr Malfoy seemed to have realised who she was gazing at and took the initiative of introducing his family. Both of them knew, however, that the other's mind was elsewhere.
She wondered what business such a man had on Victoria Street, towing his family along with him, but even more, she began to wonder if there were even more of them out there.
So she wasn't exactly unique. Perhaps, seeing as somehow, for the first time, someone had actually managed to block her mind invasions, she wasn't very, very powerful. Yet.
But the thought that he had caused her pain, such an agonising headache, ashamed her. Such a disappointment.
"Draco," Mr Malfoy suddenly said, bringing her out of her thoughts, "why don't you ask Miss Potter for a dance?"
A rather unexpected turn of events. It seemed that Mr Malfoy was unaware of the fact that less grand parties didn't force people to waltz or wring out a salsa. Currently, no one was dancing. Many, however, were making curious glances at the Malfoys.
The two children fixed each other with a scrutinising stare. "Of course, Father," the boy drawled in a nearly identical tone to his father's. Mistletoe refrained from scoffing. Judging by his hint of a sneer, she could just imagine 'of course, Father' secretly being interpreted as 'I suppose, if you pay me back for this later'.
The two of them stayed still and silent, waiting for the other to say something first.
"I do hope you'll be asking her one of these days," his father said, a warning undertone evident as he addressed his son.
The boy scowled, grabbing her hand roughly. "Of course, I do consent to your charming invitation," Mistletoe said sweetly.
He glared at her as soon as they reached to dance floor, pulling her into some sort of waltz. Though Mistletoe had proven that a lot could be achieved at nine (and a half) years of age, she was awed by the fact that such a child could dance so professionally well. She was thankful that she was graceful enough not to trip over her own feet.
Potter," he finally acknowledged.
"Malfoy," she mused, sounding amused at his irritation. "You seem extremely jubilant at the idea of mingling with commoners."
He sneered. This time, she realised, it was at the curious bystanders who were glancing their way. "Look at them," he muttered bitterly, "the lot of them. Such filth dominating the top of the food chain. My grandparents would turn in their graves."
She understood him, almost understood him. It was true – she too believed she was better, but to address the matter so freely...who gave Malfoy the right? Tempted, she gazed into his mind, lightly in case he was as sensitive as his father. His mind was like a hallway of portraits, each covered with a black cloak, hidden on the surface, but not difficult to decipher. It was almost as if her gift could be trained and learned, and Malfoy was doing just that. Perhaps just as his father had.
No. It couldn't be. Just considering the fact was making her tremble in rage. This was her gift. Hers. She was special. She just had to be.
If Malfoy noticed her silent inner-conflict, he gave no inclination. "Filthy muggles and mudbloods," he continued. "As Mother would say, 'such scum'."
Briefly, Mistletoe wondered if there was anything else Malfoy might be interested in talking about. "Pray tell, what are muggles and mudbloods?"
The words, swirling in her mind, sounded rather familiar. Where had she heard them before...?
Malfoy seemed rather affected at the idea that she didn't understand him. "You're the Girl Who Lived and you don't know who muggles are? Blimey, what have they told you?"
Mistletoe blinked. "About what?"
"Well," the boy began, "obviously about the magi - "
"Draco!" Mr Malfoy seemed to appear out of nowhere, causing both of them to jump. "We'll be leaving our hosts to attend to other guests."
Draco almost seemed a little disappointed. "But, Father - "
"Come, Draco," his mother said smoothly, "we have previous obligations to attend to."
Without another glance, the Malfoys glided across the hallway and exited the way they came. Almost immediately, the party returned to normal, though Aunt Tuney seemed a little confronted at their abrupt exit.
Such an abrupt visit. To her, it almost seemed like a peculiar daydream. ...in the room the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo...
It almost felt like the Malfoys had come here with a purpose, to do something, and they'd left when it was done.
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There are, however, many sides to the story. The greasy-haired potions-obsessed Slytherin they knew in their fifth year is just one of them.
All his life, Severus Snape has been forgotten, laughed at, rejected, and, during his fifth Christmas, under the delusion that theirs would be spent in France, left behind. A second thought not really worth it. A greying memory no one bothers with. But perhaps, a few years too late, it's his turn now...
INTRODUCING SEVERUS SNAPE
Severus Snape was currently trying his best not to scowl.
This, of course, was turning out to be extremely difficult, especially seeing as how he nearly always scowled. For a bitter look to adorn his face was as natural to him as breathing. And restraining from something as common to him as breathing was apparently turned out to be near impossible.
The reason Severus Snape was scowling-but-trying-not-to was, as usual, Albus Dumbledore. It was that time of year again. The time of year that resulted in Severus stirring his potions seven times anti-clockwise instead of seventeen clockwise, adding monkswood instead of monkshood to his truth serum, and, shockingly, even ruining a good cauldron or two. Those of the faculty who had experienced Severus's nervous state before undoubtedly understood that it was, indeed, that time of year, and left him to his anxieties.
The Headmaster smiled at him like he would to an ungrateful child. "Severus, you must understand my decision."
Truthfully, he did not. Snape glared. "Obviously, Headmaster, or I would not be trying for the eight consecutive time since my post as the blasted Potions Master," he said, letting his sarcasm get the better of him.
Dumbledore blinked, a little surprised. "Severus, why the spite?"
"You are aware, I trust," Severus said icily, "that only three others are also applying for the same position? Quirinus Quirrell, the measly professor of Muggle Studies whose boggart is most likely a flobberworm, Dolores Umbridge, who seems to be under the delusion that she can, in fact, teach, and Sybill Trelawney who may well be under the Imperius Curse to even consider applying for the post? I, currently, am rather amused by whatever decision you hope to make between the three of them." Severus rolled his eyes.
"Though, Headmaster, I do implore you to see reason and discourage dear Trelawney. In light of the Dark Lord's impending return, we cannot afford the students sending themselves to their graves without raising a finger under the assumption that their deaths were inevitably predicted five months before hand."
Snape 1, Dumbledore 0.
Dumbledore smiled benevolently. "Why, Severus, how are you so sure that the three applicants whose forms you so happened to chance upon while snooping in my office last week for, as you say, a spare tub of lemon drops, were the only ones?"
Snape 1, Dumbledore 1. Snape, to put it universally, scowled. "Headmaster, I implore you. Let me - "
Dumbledore raised a hand to stop him from continuing. "I implore you, Severus, to remain at your present post. You are doing a superb job."
"I would do even better if only you'll give me a chance!" he snapped. "Why, Albus? Why? Haven't I already proven my loyalty? Do you still doubt me after all these years?"
Dumbledore stared at him with his shocking blue eyes, still so vibrant after all seeing so much the average eye would never see. It was with the same stare that the Headmaster had bestowed upon Snape all the many years ago, on one of his sixth year's full moons, spent breathing and thinking heavily in the Hospital Wing. "Severus. Please."
What would Severus have said next?
Would his words sway the Headmaster's decision?
Would his future be any different?
Fate forgot, just like the others in Severus Snape's life refused, to give him a chance.
Instead, their conversation was rudely interrupted by one Lucius Malfoy.
It was a rather unexpected visit, and Lucius was usually a man of expectations. He carried himself in such a stiff disposition even for a Malfoy. Severus couldn't help but speculate that something was incredibly wrong.
"Dumbledore," Lucius acknowledged grudgingly. He glanced fleetingly at Severus and nodded briefly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Dumbledore acted unaffected. "Lucius," he greeted, as if addressing a close friend. "I trust things are well with the Board?"
Lucius hesitated. "Dumbledore," he drawled slowly, "how familiar are you with the law?"
Severus glanced between them, wondering if he should leave the room. Neither, it seemed, cared for his presence. Many scarcely did.
Dumbledore gave a happy shrug. "About as familiar as I am with Stringbough's Laws of Transfigurations."
Severus regarded the aristocrat with suspicious eyes. Lucius Malfoy was, without a doubt, plotting something.
"Then I am sure you would understand that the use of Legilimency on any person is illegal?"
Severus stiffened slightly. Lucius, it seemed, was not aiming the finger at him. What confused him was why Lucius of all people would suddenly pay deep attention to a part of the law long broken by many.
"Earlier on this evening," Lucius continued, "I chanced upon a rather curious individual at a certain function I was asked to attend."
Severus had the distinct feeling that whatever Lucius Malfoy was on about had something to do with blackmail. Expect Lucius was rarely the type to open his heart out to the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Dumbledore, it seemed, was thinking a similar idea. "I trust, Lucius, that you are able to handle the situation yourself?"
Lucius sneered. "Mistletoe Potter was performing Legilimency almost simultaneously on just about every individual in the room, despite the fact that anyone who does is immediately sent to Azkaban!"
Snape's head shot up. Mistletoe Potter? Legilimency? The last he had heard of the Potter brat, she was living with the Muggles on Number Four Privet Drive. Had Lucius Malfoy finally lost his mind under the strain of the returning Dark Lord?
"Now, now, Lucius," Dumbledore continued in such a tone that suggested he was soothing a child. Severus admired his nerve. "If there were traces of Legilimency present, then let me assure you, young Miss Potter cannot surely be at fault."
Lucius glared menacingly. Snape truly could not discern just who here had the greater courage. "Let me assure you, Albus, that the Girl Who Lived was one of, if not the only, magical presence in the room worth noting. Not counting my wife and son, of course," he added.
Severus raised an eyebrow. "And since when, Lucius," he decided to add in a curious tone, "were you ever in the presence of muggles?"
Lucius smiled coldly at him. "Let's just say that this was a rather interesting case, shall we?"
Albus interrupted before Snape could reply. "Truly, Lucius, what do you expect me to do?"
"Are you not the Headmaster of Hogwarts School? Do you not hold strong influence over the Wizengamot and Minister Fudge, as do I?" Lucius glared again. "The brat, let me assure you, is the most condescending child I have and will ever meet!"
Of course. The facts were all there. Mistletoe Potter was a Potter. She was his brat, his spawn. Severus shouldn't have expected anything else. So then why was he suddenly so disappointed?
Had he hoped that Lily Evans's child would turn out just like her? Had he wished, desperately, that every fibre of James Potter the child held had been brutally destroyed that fateful Halloween night? Could he not allow himself to wish, just wish, that the child would be a Lily and not a James?
"I suppose that is to be expected," Snape said bitterly. "After all, the brat is James Potter's spawn."
"Indeed, Severus, indeed," Lucius continued. "Among...colleagues, shall we say, I realised at an early stage that Mistletoe Potter was incredibly arrogant. I, too, brushed comments off, reminding myself that James Potter was once also arrogant and his child could be no different. She would eventually grow out of it, as Potter had."
Lucius glided across the Headmaster's office, pausing here and there to inspect peculiar instruments. "But it was not until my curiosity overruled me and I decided to meet the girl myself," he continued, "that I realised just how arrogant she has become under the care of such filth."
"Lucius," Albus said warningly.
"Oh, Dumbledore, you may pretend all you like that the Dursleys are the right choice for the Girl Who Lived to spend her childhood years with, but I shall not be as disillusioned." Lucius turned to Snape. "I believe, Severus, that you are somewhat acquainted with the brat's aunt?"
Severus scowled. "I have yet to meet a more magic-hating woman," he muttered. "She was blinded by her jealousy and hatred of her sister as to ever consider magic a blessing."
"And there you have it, Dumbledore. As of now, I can only conclude that Mistletoe Potter's arrogance is the result of living with such misguided people."
"Exactly how big-headed is she, Lucius?" Severus asked softly.
"Arrogant enough to believe she can get away with performing such a magnitude of Legilimency at a five-mile radius," Malfoy snarled. "Listen here, Dumbledore. Seeing as the brat will one day turn out to be a student of Hogwarts, it is within both of our rights, I as a school governor and you as its headmaster, to do something about her."
Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Any suggestions, Lucius?"
Malfoy glared once again. "I suggest you teach her some restraint. And Occlumency. Immediately."
The swift exit of Lucius Malfoy left both the Headmaster and Snape momentarily speechless.
Severus fumbled a bit, unsure of what to say, or whether he should speak at all. Dumbledore's mind seemed to be elsewhere, and Snape could only hope another devious plan would not be set in place.
"Headmaster?"
Albus blinked. His blue eyes drew from their glazed place and fell warmly onto Snape. "My dear boy," he said softly. "I sense another horror approaching."
Without another word, Fawkes the phoenix flew gracefully forward, a whirlwind of gold and red that made Severus nauseous, and landed with equal elegance on the robed arm of the Headmaster. "I think, Fawkes," he muttered quietly, "that it is time for you to make another journey."
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Severus craned his head forward as far as his courage allowed him, desperately wanting to see what Dumbledore was writing on his parchment. The letter, or note, was short, perhaps even just a few words, and when Dumbledore was finished, he tapped his wand at the parchment and tucked it into his phoenix's beak, winking at Snape as he did.
"Headmaster," he began cautiously, "whatever plan you have - "
"Tell me, Severus," Dumbledore said, "do you have any idea why Lucius Malfoy came to me this evening?" Dumbledore twirled his lavish quill in the air. "Why Albus Dumbledore? The very man his lord despises? If he needed a confidante, you, Severus, would have done well. But why me?"
"Albus," Snape said impatiently, "what are you - "
"I suspect, my boy, that Lucius Malfoy is scared."
"Of Potter?" Snape muttered sceptically. "Please, Albus. No matter how powerful Mistletoe Potter claims herself to be, she is still a child who has yet to hear of magic. Lucius, on the other hand, is a grown man."
"Ah, yes, and that is just the reason why he decided to make his move now, when the child is still a child, easily influenced and controlled. Lucius Malfoy was aware of that when he met Miss Potter tonight." Albus' eyes twinkled. "Think again, my boy. What has shown to Lucius that he may not have full control over the child?"
"Her being a natural at Legilimency," he promptly answered, "and not just any natural; an exceptionally powerful one at that. But what does that - "
"Lucius Malfoy," the Headmaster said softly in a serious tone, "has just met a powerful natural Legilimens who has most likely broken through his mind barriers and seen his mind – his thoughts, his habits, his talents...and his past."
The Potions Master's eyes widened in comprehension. "Lucius is frightened that she may know of his current alliance?"
"Past alliance, Severus," Albus corrected. "It is possible that the girl spent long enough inside to sift through the whole of his mind. It may no longer be a question of if she knows, but when she will remember his life story through the flicks of memory she would have beheld."
"Think of it as having a dream, Severus," he continued, "a little event that may last for hours is compressed to last, in reality, a dream of a mere second or two. When one wakes from the dream, it is often that one forgets it, except for the slight inkling that something had occurred. It is possible that Miss Potter shall never remember, as the typical dreamer would not."
Albus sighed as he glanced out of his office window, at the retreating figure of Fawkes. "But then again, Mistletoe Potter has proven, time and again, that she is clearly not typical. We can only hope that things will run differently this time round."
Severus eyed the Headmaster curiously, wondering what he was saying. "Care to explain, Dumbledore?"
The old wizard ignored him, continuing with his musings. "I suspect Lucius is afraid of the tremendous potential Miss Potter has. With the sway she holds over the Wizarding world, it is more than likely his reputation will forever be tarnished should she care to reveal his shady past as Death Eater."
On the other hand, if word were to get out that Legilimency, a forbidden form of advanced magic had been performed by a child as young as nine, trouble would inevitably brew at the Ministry, and no doubt their solution to the problem would be to place the blame on Mistletoe Potter, should Lucius Malfoy's precarious past stay a secret."
Mr Malfoy hopes that as a future father figure of the young Miss Potter, I may dissuade her from whatever he fears. Perhaps by controlling her Legilimency, which I surmise is as natural to her as breathing, he hopes that she would restrain from discovering further ploys of Lord Voldemort that include himself. She is young, Severus, and her abilities will certainly grow over time."
"And what do you expect me to do about that?" Snape demanded. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was heading.
Albus smiled softly. "Severus, please."
Snape sensed a horrible headache emerging in the near future. "Can't this wait, Albus?" he hissed, massaging his temples with trembling hands, "two years. Just two more years until the blasted brat comes to Hogwarts - "
"I'm afraid not, my boy," the Headmaster said gravely. "Voldemort is out there. He's gaining power at an incredible speed, fuelled by hatred and greed. When he does return, the first thing he does can only be to kill the one thing that ever defeated him – Mistletoe Potter."
"And why me, Dumbledore? Why not Quirrell, or Umbridge or dear Sybill? Why me?"
Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling. "You are, after all, one of the greatest Occlumens of this time."
He glared. "One of, Albus. Which, might I add, includes you as well."
The Headmaster shook his head sadly. "This is not my specific area of studies, Severus."
"And yet to still deny me the post as Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor," Severus growled.
"Perhaps, my boy, one day..."
Would Albus Dumbledore have promised his empty promise?
Would Severus Snape have left the office with more satisfaction than when he entered?
Fate, unfortunately, forgot to give Severus Snape the chance.
The Potions Master glared. "Fine," he barked. "I'll do it. The things I do for you, Dumbledore..."
And Severus Snape, never knowing others were offered one, went on living without it.
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Mistletoe Henrietta Petronica Potter didn't quite know how it happened.
One minute, there she was, sipping her cup of chocolate at breakfast whilst checking the recent share market in the newspaper, in mid-sentence of questioning her uncle whether he'd sold his Frugal shares yet or not, and the next thing she knew, her aunt was shrieking bloody murder, a frightening man dressed in black stormed into the kitchen with the darkest scowl she ever imagined seeing, and pointed a stick at her face.
It seemed a rather peculiar dream to have at first, especially since she was sure she'd already bugged her uncle to sell his Frugal shares and couldn't imagine why she'd ask the same thing twice. That and the fact that someone was hoping to achieve something by pointing a wooden stick at her face. She briefly wondered what the man thought he was doing.
"I will speak, Potter," the man, donned completely in black, hissed "and you will listen."
Mistletoe raised an eyebrow. Normally, if someone were to treat her with unjust, she would scavenge their mind for clues of this misbehaviour then use them to her advantage. But because this was a dream, she allowed herself to be entertained by whatever this man, who Aunt Tuney would definitely think of as having no fashion sense whatsoever, had to say.
"Go on," she said, bemused. "I'm all ears."
The man, in all his ferocity, was unable to meet her eyes. In fact, he seemed so disturbed by her presence that his face was turned completely away from her. Quite an advantage, especially if one was to make threats. Glancing at the Dursleys, she realised they were staring at the man in fright, not at all too keen about doing anything with the wooden stick that was still pointed at a spot between Mistletoe's eyes.
"Very well," he continued swiftly, head still turned away, "I trust you are not aware of the fact that Legilimency, which you have been repeatedly performing on those around you, is illegal?"
Mistletoe blinked. She hadn't seen this coming. "Legilimency," she repeated slowly, liking the way it sounded on her tongue. That had to be her mind-reading skills he was referring to. Worriedly, she deduced that if there was a name for the prowess she held against others, then perhaps her abilities weren't so special after all. "And just what are you and your stick going to do about that? You lack proof."
The man sneered. "I assure you, Potter, that this wand which I currently hold has the potential of inflicting far more harm upon you, which I will gladly assist in, should you not comply. Answer me now, truthfully – Are you or are you not aware that harnessing Legilimency is illegal?"
"No," she answered abruptly.
Perhaps this wasn't a dream after all. She considered stepping into his mind, performing Legilimency or whatever he assumed it was, for some clues, but had a feeling that doing so wouldn't aid her in any way. She then considered calling forth one of her snakes but then decided that there was far more to that wooden stick, or wand as the man was delusional in believing, than what she first thought of it as. So she decided to wait and listen.
"Just like your father," the man sneered, "never bothering about the rules."
"And look where it got him," she continued in false pity, "quite dead with my mother, yes?"
There was a pause, as if this was obviously not the answer the man expected, then he swivelled round for the first time, eyes ablaze, face the epitome of fury.
"I will not tolerate talking back!" he snarled.
Mistletoe would have cringed, had she not seen the emotion in his eyes. There was more to this fury – a startling amount of surprise, incredulity and disappointment. Perhaps this man knew her parents. His mouth opened, at first almost to spit at her, then seeming to form the start of a sentence but remembered his place and thought better.
"How long have you performed Legilimency?" he spat.
Mistletoe shrugged. "A while."
The man glared, his face so intensified by hatred and rage that Mistletoe feared a heart attack. "How. Long?" he growled.
She glared. "For as long as I can remember. If you want the specific date, ask my aunt."
And suddenly, the terrible burden of being interrogated with a wooden stick vanished and cast itself on Aunt Petunia. "S-she conversed w-with us with h-her mind ever s-since she w-was one," her aunt spluttered.
"Y-you take your stuff off her!" Vernon roared, discovering his wits for the first time. "Just l-leave her alone!"
Uncle Vernon's nervous eyes were darting furiously between the man's wand and his gun, which he hung proudly on the kitchen wall. The man, however, realised this and said menacingly, "I'd like to see you try, Dursley." At the sight of the stick, Vernon gulped.
"And frankly, I'd like to see you try," Mistletoe drawled, a little bored at the rate they were going at.
The man whipped around faster than she could blink. "Don't patronise me, Potter," the man hissed. And there is was again, that emotion in his eyes as he looked at her, that made her smirk drop a little, her boredom shift a little. Just who was this man and what was he doing?
"I'd like some answers if you want your interrogation to proceed the way you wish," she continued, tone business-like. "Exactly who are you?"
"I will be your worst nightmare, if you continue speaking in that tone, Potter," he hissed. "I am - "
"Severus Snape," another voice whimpered. The two of them whipped round to find that Petunia, who had safely lodged herself behind Vernon, starring at him in dawning comprehension. "You're one of them!" she suddenly shrieked, "you were the first one, the one who took Lily astray."
Mistletoe turned back to the man, white with rage and horror. "Care to explain, anyone?" she asked casually. "Are you in a cult, Severus Snape? Do you point wooden sticks at innocent girls demanding answers for an occupation? Am I to expect the same fate as this Lily?"
Severus Snape was silent.
"You're going to force her to that horrible school of yours, aren't you? And she's not even eleven yet." Petunia continued. "I suppose now's the time when you'll be telling her how great and powerful she is and how amazing your stupid little fairytale castle is. And now my niece is going to meet the same end as her. Happy now?" Mistletoe expected an explosion but nothing happened. Petunia Dursley continued. "She was my best friend, Snape! My only friend at times. And you took that away from me. You took away my twin, my other half! Brilliant, aren't you? You sent her to her death!"
Mistletoe stiffened slightly at Petunia's words. Aunt Tuney had a twin? She wondered why she had never dwelled deeper into her relatives' minds. She'd dismissed them as too boring to have ever held an interesting past.
Snape, it seemed, was in pain. Funny, how the woman he had threatened seconds ago, was the one causing it. "Enough!" he snarled, a feeble attempt at reverting to his original state of pure anger. "Be quiet, Petunia." He turned back to Mistletoe. "Listen here, Potter, listen carefully. You're a witch."
Mistletoe blinked. "A witch," she repeated. "Are you sure?"
Snape snorted. "Expected something a little better?" he sneered. "You're no fairy princess, Potter."
That was blunt. It left Mistletoe feeling far less satisfied than she had been, not knowing who she really was. A witch. In the end, that was all she really was. What had she expected, a bleeding miracle?
"Will you burn me at the stakes now?" she asked bitterly.
"Stupid girl," Snape yelled. "I happen to be a wizard. You'll be going with me now to - "
"Here, now, freak," Vernon suddenly burst out, taking his wife's example at surprisingly them with his courage. "You won't be taking her with you anywhere, do you hear? She'll be staying here with us, and when she's eleven she'll be going to Saint Cuthbert's Fine Institution for Young Ladies, not Hodgewarts, or anywhere else with freaks in it."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose you'll be the one to stop me if I do?"
"Actually," Mistletoe piped up, "I will."
There was silence as Snape turned to stare at her, again with the same look that almost made her feel guilty. A ghost of a triumphant smile adorned Petunia's lips and Vernon nodded approvingly.
"Frankly, Snape, learning about being a witch doesn't interest me much. I mean, here's me and my goal to rule the world and going to a school full of kids like me just may destroy whatever sense of individuality I have. Then how'll I go about ruling the world? Besides," she added, "I was doing fine the first nine years of my life. No need to start now."
"And there you have it, freak," Uncle Vernon bellowed, "my niece doesn't want to go to your stupid school so you'd better not take her away from our plans!"
"Your plans," Snape sneered, "do they consist of her education or your career, Dursley? I wonder."
"Why you - "
And quite simply put, Mistletoe was irritated. The whole ordeal with Severus Snape had continued long enough. It was time he left Victoria Street in peace. "Look, Snape," she said, "I've said it already but I'll say it again, just in case you missed it last time. I won't be going anywhere with you. I don't care that I'm a witch. I've got bigger goals. Understood?"
He scowled. If that didn't work, she decided to intimidate him a little. She glared with her emerald, glowing eyes, almost hearing Vernon's nervous heartbeat three feet away. "Understood?" she repeated, eyes boring into his.
If there had been any flash of fear, Snape hid it faster than anyone Mistletoe had ever come across. The next instant, Snape's stick was pointing at her again and she suddenly found that she couldn't move.
"Enough!" the man yelled. "Potter, I've taken your attitude for far too long. It's time you learned some lessons."
And then Mistletoe, whose frustration grew when she realised she had no control over her body, suddenly found herself shrinking. The world was becoming smaller and smaller, the Dursleys bigger and bigger, until...Severus Snape picked her up with one hand and put her in his pocket! Darkness enveloped her as if she was in an empty void. Of course, of all the colours one could wear, Snape inevitably chose black.
"Say good-bye to your niece, Dursley," she heard Snape snarl, "you and your company's investors won't be seeing each other for quite some time."
Mistletoe panicked. She was being kidnapped by a wizard who was going to take her God knew where. "Sell your Frugal shares, Uncle Vernie!" She shrieked. "And for God's sake, buy the Quichey shares already."
"Your niece says to sell your Frugal shares," Snape transmitted, "and do buy the Quichey shares before Christmas, will you?"
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Wow. That was some chapter. Of course, depending on the amount of reviews I get, the length of the next chapter could be even longer.
Any idea, anyone, on who Fawkes was sending the letter to?
Ideas for possible pairings, guys? Who do you think Mistletoe should one day end up with? No one? A Weasley? A Malfoy? Snape? Or some other character waiting to be introduced?
Who do you think the DADA professor should be?
Next chapter: Our heroine learns a lesson on humility, a problem is discovered and the year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is revealed.
MaskWithATruth