Ugh, school is over, I failed three exams, and I'm unemployed. Yep, motivation levels aren't high, so please Review after Reading.
.
.
.
It was all her fault, Harry had decided.
.
Her, with her horrendously pink outfits, and the childish giggles that made your insides shrivel up in revulsion and loathing, and the cough that created fanfares of doom for all who heard it. Her flat, toad-like face twisted into a mockery of a smile, with that black bow that reminded him of a fly perched on her head.
.
Oh yes, it was most certainly the fault of High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge.
.
First it was the little things, like supervising classes, making notes and asking irritating questions; digging into the personal lives of the teachers and pissing them all off beyond measure. Then the not so subtle introduction of the Educational Decrees, and the blatant dorm inspection of only Slytherin house (so Theo had said, and neither Susan Bones or Morag had mentioned dorm inspections), and detentions on a regular basis to first and second-year snakes, even the third years, who had, admittedly, two decent instructors before the Toad, and the firsties didn't know that they needed to keep their mouths shut in her presence. Lina Sorley in first year Slytherin had come to him in tears after a nasty detention which involved a kriffing blood quill, of all things. It was only the fact that Lina was a muggle-raised half-blood, like himself, that prevented him from challenging Umbridge on her methods or punishment. Who would believe a half-blood student over a pure-blood adult?
Never mind if Lina's grandfather was head of the Magical Clan of Lamont; one of the last Scottish Clans to wield magic throughout the generations, and was capable of ending Umbridge then and there, if he ever got word that his youngest member was being tortured.
.
No one hurt his tutor-students and got away with it.
.
The final straw, or maybe it was the second-to-last straw, was investigating all family history of the teachers, as well as personal history. Professor Babbling had been put on probation after his dabbling in illegal rituals was found out, and McGonagall herself had Dark dealings (she'd formed a Magical Triad with some witches in her village, and had saved the town from bombings over the summers during World War Two. But she'd been seen by Muggles). The only problem, was that the Toad was going in alphabetical order of last name, and read all her findings out to the Great Hall during the now compulsory breakfast times.
.
Today was 'S', and there were three people with that last name.
Skalko.
Sinistra.
Snape.
.
Harry was nervous, but not for himself. No, for his unofficial Head of House and mentor.
.
To make matters worse, Umbridge had managed to get a hold of some device that played memories from touch, so she would force each person to touch it, and their memories were displayed for the entire school to see, no matter how embarrassing, inappropriate or personal. Harry knew that Professor Snape was many things, but a touchy-feely person who enjoyed their dirty laundry being aired to everyone was not one of them. He just hoped that when it was Snape's turn, Voldemort didn't come up. Or Lily Potter, because that would mean awkward explanations to everyone else. Or anything from his school days, because that was just painful.
.
Snape even looked nervous about this whole debacle; a far cry from his normally impassive features.
.
.
They were watching the device play Skalko's memories from his school days, when he was tutoring children in the Dark Arts at Durmstrang. Out of all the teachers, Skalko was the newest; replacing the Magical Theory teacher two years ago, and proving to be popular with the masses. Skalko was also 1 year older than Sinistra, and 2 years older than Vector and Snape, who was up next after this.
The image changed to the Second Wizarding War, with Skalko fighting against Death Eaters in a back alley, and killing them all. Unlike the first time it had happened, no one screamed. The horrors seen by Flitwick, McGonagall, Dumbledore and even Hagrid had numbed the student's reactions to violence. The image above flickered, then died away, Skalko collapsing on the floor, his legs no longer holding him up. Immediately, Vector and Babbling moved towards him, supporting him and helping him to his staff chair. Sinistra swallowed heavily as she stood up, and Umbridge cleared her throat.
"Hem, hem. Aurora Silvana Sinistra,' there were sniggers from the males, and Sinistra blushed, but rolled her eyes, '31 years of age, born 23rd February, 1979, in Geneva. Attended Hogwarts after her application to Beauxbatons was declined due to low marks in mathematics and…physical education. Scored 8 OWLS; 4 O's, 3 EE's and 1 A. 8 NEWTS; 5 O's, 3 EE's. Has Masteries in Astronomy and Lunar Magic. Please place your hand on the orb, Professor Sinistra."
Aurora, almost on reflex, looked back at Snape for some reason, and he raised an eyebrow, nodding. She took a deep breath, and placed her hand on the orbs, her body stiffening as soon as she made contact.
.
A young Aurora walked next to a young Severus, hair in a long braid down the middle of her back, eyes gazing up at the ceiling. Severus had a hand on her arm, and was towing her along, preventing her from stopping at the sight and causing a scene.
A much younger Professor McGonagall stood at the front, holding a scroll, and calling out names. A few stood out from the crowd.
Sirius Black.
Amelia Bones.
Lily Evans.
Remus Lupin.
Peter Pettigrew.
James Potter.
Evan Rosier.
Finally, McGonagall called out "Aurora Sinistra!" and Aurora made her way to the stool, sitting down on it cautiously, before the Sorting Hat was placed on her head, falling over her eyes.
'Ahhh, Ms Sinistra, I've been expecting you. Don't panic, I will sort you into your house…no, there is always a place for everyone at Hogwarts…Beauxbatons don't know what they're missing out on…a fascination with the stars? My dear girl, what a remarkable hobby…if only I could see that stars once again…where to put you, where to put you…a healthy dose of ambition, and the cunning to pull it off, but a strong desire to learn…my dear girl, you only met him on the train, yet fiercely loyal already…plenty of bravery, especially being able to cope with being that high up…a strong sense of justice; that will serve you well…which is it to be, Slytherin or Ravenclaw?...no, the dungeons would suit you ill; not enough freedom for you…better be…
"RAVENCLAW!"
.
A slightly older Aurora and Severus moved around a bubbling cauldron; chopping, slicing or stirring at random intervals. Aurora moved to put something in, but a hand grabbing her wrist stopped her.
"Baneberry, then the foxglove. Do keep up, Rory."
"Fuck up, Sev." Aurora retorted, swapping ingredients, and tossing the correct one in. "Hey, have you noticed that the directions for this sound like something from Macbeth?"
Severus snorted.
"And thus do go about, about. Thrice to mine and thrice to thine, and thrice once more to make up nine. Peace, the charms wound up."
Aurora giggled, and stared at him.
"All hail Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor."
Severus stuck his nose in the air.
"That's "Shalt be King hereafter", to you, traitorous MacDuff."
"Silence, murderer, whose name now blisters the tongue."
"Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble."
"The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?"
"Screwing Macbeth, because his wife is barren and secretly sleeping with Duncan."
Aurora paused in her stirring, and stared at him.
"That wasn't in Macbeth."
Severus shrugged, and then eyed the newt remains on his hands.
"Will these hands ne'er be clean?"
Aurora laughed, and started to tidy up the station, as Severus set the timer for the potion, looking into the cauldron.
"And it looks like another O for us, Rory."
Aurora pumped her fist.
"It shall be so. The Grandmaster of Snark and Potions decrees it."
.
"Sev, you trying out for your Quidditch team?"
Both Aurora and Severus were sitting at the top of the Astronomy tower, charting the stars. Severus looked startled, before he rolled his eyes.
"Tell me, who plays on the Gryffindor team?"
"Well, Longbottom is Keeper, then Pettigrew and Casey are Beaters, with Black, Lupin and Potter…oh."
"I'd be a Bludger sponge, and Evan has expressed his desire for me to remain in one piece so that I can help him with our Runes project."
"But Evan is Chaser already, isn't he? You have Malfoy as keeper, the Lestrange brothers as Beaters, and Rosier is the only remaining Chaser, since Bellatrix and Nott graduated last year. Two spots open, Sev, and you're good on a broom. It'd be neat if you and Regulus got on the team."
Severus looked at the sky.
"Yeah…" he muttered, sounding unconvinced.
.
Everything flashed quicker.
.
Aurora walking into Hogsmeade with Severus and a tall blonde with dreamy blue eyes, discussing plants in relation to the lunar cycle.
.
Sitting in the Great Hall, staring up at the ceiling while others scribbled frantically on their papers during OWLS.
.
Duelling Severus in preparation for their NEWTS.
.
Sleeping on a couch in the Ravenclaw common room with paper scattered everywhere.
.
War.
Screaming in pain as a Crucio hit its mark. A spell slashing her collarbone, and another taking off half of her left ear. A roar of fury, and a dark clad figure slaughtering her attackers.
.
Healing a long gash on Severus' leg after he'd collapsed at her door.
.
A kiss shared between herself and Septima Vector during Lughnasadh, tasting of honey and strawberries.
.
Receiving her Masteries, feeling the pure magic rush through her veins in an intoxicating wave.
.
The end of the war, holding Severus as he cried at Lily's death.
.
.
"ENOUGH!"
The scream came from Sinistra, who yanked her hand away from the orb and dropped to the ground, shaking. Her skin was pallid, and she looked about five seconds away from vomiting. She lifted her head, and glared at Umbridge.
"Fuck off, bitch. The only person allowed inside my head is me."
Harry raised his eyebrows, and sniggered behind his hand when Sinistra stood up, and flipped off Umbridge. Umbridge looked rattled, before she pulled out the next file.
"Severus Tobias Snape-Prince, 29 years of age, born 9th January 1980 in Yorkshire. Tested…THIS IS PREPOSTUROUS!" Harry, and many others near him, winced at the high decibels, and shook his head.
"Files are self-updating, and no one can tamper with them. All true. Unfortunately." He muttered at the end. Umbridge shot him a glare, but continued, her voice cold with fury.
"Tested into Hogwarts at age 10, joined the graduating class of 1997. Top of his Muggle primary school. 12 OWLS; 11 O's, 1 EE. 12 NEWTS; 10 O's, 2 EE's. Masteries in Dark Arts and Defence Against, Potions, Spellcrafting and Mind Arts. Please place your hand on the orb, Professor."
The last words was infused with so much venom, Harry was surprised that Snape didn't melt into a pile of steaming goo on the floor. No, instead he watched as Snape cautiously reached out his hand, hesitating, before his fingers curved over the ball, and his body stiffened.
.
.
A small, skinny dark-haired boy hung upside down in a tree, hanging on by his legs, eyes closed as the wind drifted through his hair. In the distance, a small river ran through a field, and heather dotted the grass.
"SEVERUS! GET OU' OF THA' TREE THIS INSTANT!"
A female voice shrieked, and Severus startled, sliding off the branch and twisting awkwardly to land on his feet, stumbling against the tree. A tall, stately woman stormed out of the small cottage, and made a beeline for Severus, grabbing him by his ear.
"How many times have I told you NO' T' EXPERIMENT WI' POTIONS WHEN I'M NO' HOME?! HOW MANY?!"
Severus winced.
"More than twenty, Ma."
Her dark blue eyes flashed, and then she sighed, brushing her black hair out of her face.
"Then why dinnae ya listen t' me?"
Severus bit his lip, and looked at the ground.
"Sorry, Mam. I' won't happen again."
Eileen Prince knelt down next to her eldest child, and pulled him into a hug. Severus leaned into it, and smiled slightly.
"Severus, it's no' tha' I disapprove, but more t' fact that you're seven. I shouldnae even let you be around hot fires and boiling cauldrons. Just…dinnae take anything for granted when I' comes t' Potions, and…be careful."
Severus looked up at his mother, a crooked grin on his lips.
"Always."
.
.
"Ah, young Master Snape, or is it Prince? I've been expecting you. I remember your mother; Slytherin, almost a Ravenclaw, went on to challenge the laws of Magic herself. Brilliant woman. Now, where to put you…experimenting and improving potions at seven? Marvellous…most adults would have trouble with that…ah, you father does, but he reasons as long as you have supervision…a talent in combat…I don't see that often nowadays… already have connections outside the school from the family business…yes, your blood have always been opportunists…where to put you…Hufflepuff would suit you ill…not a very welcoming person, are you? But you do have loyalty to those who earn it, such as Ms Sinistra and Ms Evans…you do have a tremendous amount of bravery…Gryffindor would give you a place…you wish to earn your way? A most Ravenclaw mindset…but with your heritage it's no wonder…but Ravenclaw would restrict you…no, they don't really share their knowledge these days…I see your cousin has inherited the Prince curse…you have some of it, but not much…those repressors of your uncle's work wonders…an ambition to prove that you are more than just a name on a graduating role…my dear boy, you are younger than many of the students I normally sort…that leads to the question: Gryffindor or Slytherin?...Slytherin ambition, dear lad…no…second thoughts… Gryffindor would suit you ill…especially with that temper…Slytherin will teach you control…better be…SLYTHERIN!"
Severus exhaled the breath that he'd been holding, and made his way to the sedately clapping silver-green sea. Taking a seat next to a red-haired boy, who he vaguely remembered as Evan Rosier, he offered a raised eyebrow to the ravenette prefect, who seemed to be dissecting him with her gaze. She smirked, and leaned in closer, even as the sorting ended.
"Snape isn't a Wizarding name."
Severus blinked.
"No, it's a Yorkshire name. It's where me da's clan is from."
The prefect jerked back as if she'd been shocked, and narrowed her eyes.
"Your mother's name." She demanded.
"Bellatrix, just leave it." A small voice came from a petite, blonde second year.
"Hush, Cissy. Well?"
Severus bit his lip.
"Eileen. Eileen Prince."
There were shocked intakes of breath, and Bellatrix smirked.
"Well, Slytherin, looks like we got a Prince in our house. Welcome to Slytherin, Severus Prince. I'm Bellatrix Black, 6th year prefect. If you have any problems, you can come to me."
Severus wasn't stupid; he understood the offer that she'd just made. He nodded to her, acknowledging her offer, and eyed the pumpkin juice with barely concealed disgust.
"Have they ne'er heard of water?" he muttered, causing the boy next to him, Rosier, to snort into his hand.
"Eat up quickly, my lovelies,' Bellatrix cooed, wrapping an arm around the nearest first year and squeezing them tightly, 'dear Ol' Sluggy wants to speak with you all before bedtime."
"Bella, you're being a creep." A tall, muscled boy with dark brown hair, pushed her good-naturedly.
"But Rod…" Bella whined, and the brunette looked pointedly at the first year she was still hugging. Bella blinked.
"Point taken."
There was a tap on his shoulder, and Severus spun, and came face to face with a tall blonde, who reminded him vaguely of an elf from Lord of the Rings.
"Lucius Malfoy, 4th year prefect. The brunette currently trying to convince Bellatrix Black to stop suffocating the firstie is Rodolphus Lestrange, 5th year prefect. If any of you need any help, just shout out, okay? We Slytherin's take care of our own."
Severus decided that Slytherin was definitely the better end of the deal.
.
.
"Oi! Snivellus! Wants some hair with that grease?"
"Bastard." Evan muttered, shooting a dirty glare at Potter and Black, who were giggling with each other. Severus sniffed haughtily, treading carefully so as to not upset the balance he had maintained with his coltish arms and legs that are far too big for his twelve-year old body, and the numerous tomes stacked in his arms.
"I'd like t' see him come out of a Potion's lab with perfect hair after brewing all day." He drawled, doing his best to imitate Lucius Malfoy's high-class accent, but his natural accent inevitably slipped through. Evan sniggered, and smirked at Severus.
"How long do you think he spends in front of the mirror to get his hair so…artistically tossed?"
"More than what's normal for an actual boy, tha's for sure." Severus whispered dramatically. "But, then again, look who he hangs out with. Blacks are notorious for hogging t' mirrors more fiercely than a dragon guards its treasure."
Evan burst out laughing, perfect white teeth flashing.
"That's true. You should see the Black Sisters fight over the bathroom during Yule holidays, before the ball. It's a nightmare."
"I forgo' tha' you were related. But, are you sure that Malfoy isnae some distant relation? I heard Greengrass complain t' Lestrange about how much time he spends in t' bathroom."
Evan laughed again.
"Everyone is distantly related, even the Muggleborns. I bet, that if we looked through their family trees, magically, we'd find a disowned squib somewhere along the lines. Hey, maybe your dad had a squib ancestor."
Severus stiffened, and shook his head, a wry grin touching his lips for a mere fraction of a second.
"No. Me Da's side is much more…volatile than that. Makes t' Prince Madness seem like a mild mind-altering drug in comparison. Well, granted, the right circumstances have to come int' play, and I' depends if they've had an outlet for the excess." He mused, tilting his head to one side, and running a hand that wasn't covered in ink and holding tomes through his hair. Evan stared at him, amused.
"Sometimes I wonder what goes through your mind."
"You shouldn't,' Severus patted Evan on the shoulder, 'it's best you remain in ignorance. Ignorance is bliss."
"Knowledge is Power." Evan retorted, a quirk of the lips giving away his intentions.
"War is peace, Freedom is slavery, and Ignorance is strength." Severus intoned.
Evan stared at him, confused, and Severus waved his hand.
"Muggle book. I'll lend I' t' you, and you'll never look at them t' same way. It makes Xeno's conspiracies seem mild."
Evan rolled his eyes.
"I can hardly wait."
.
.
"Hey, Sev! Guess what?"
Severus sighed, and raised an eyebrow over the essay he was currently writing; 3rd year Tranfiguration.
"Sev! Sev! Guess what?"
"I heard you the first time, Reggie. Try not to wear out my name too much." His voice was a fraction deeper, and he seemed to have lost most of his accent, although he still rolled his 'r's in the way that was unique to his hometown.
Severus was suddenly faced with a mop of unruly, curly black hair, and pleading grey eyes.
"You know how Bella and that other guy left, so now Slytherin has two Chaser spots?"
Severus narrowed his eyes.
"What of it?"
"Weeeeellllllll…I was wondering if you wanted to try out with me?"
Faced with an adorable pout, and wide, moon-like eyes, Severus felt himself start to crumble, like many of the older Slytherins did when faced with the unstoppable force that was Regulus Black when he wanted something. While Sirius Black was loud, brash and obnoxious, Regulus was sly, subtle, and Slytherin to his chocolate-craving core.
"Um…well…"
"Pleeeeeeeaaaaassssseeee? I'll help you with Transfiguration?"
Severus looked at his messy, ink-splotted Transfiguration essay, where he'd crossed out, re-written and revised the same paragraph numerous times, and then looked at the increasingly hopeful second year.
"Fine. But I don't have a broom."
Regulus beamed, and grabbed Severus' tie, pulling him forward.
"Great! Get into something that you'll be comfortable in that won't rip or be cold, and don't worry about the broom; Bella left hers with me, but I already have one, so…"
Severus blinked, and moved automatically, as Regulus prattled on about how Black's always had to at least try out for the Quidditch team, and how Evan had smashed his try-outs by catching the Snitch a total of twelve times in an hour, and how Bellatrix had scored the most goals, and Narcissa didn't get in, but she was a decent keeper, and it was only because Adrian Greengrass was male that he got in and she didn't. Andromeda had been captain, and had passed it on to Bellatrix after she graduated, but really, Andy was the most vicious Beater Hogwarts had seen since McGonagall fractured someone's skull in the Ravenclaw/ Gryffindor final in her seventh year. Sirius had made Gryffindor by being a damn good Chaser, and Regulus had always wanted to play against his brother in an actual match.
Only a few words summed up his situation.
"I'm so screwed."
.
.
"Nervous?"
Severus turned, and came face to face with Lucius Malfoy; Quidditch Captain and Head Boy. His hair, now growing out after the death of his father, was tied back much like his; a French braid courtesy of Narcissa Black. The Slytherin robes hung off his tall frame, and his broom, a Nimbus 1987, was slung over his shoulder. In comparison, Severus felt like the ugly duckling, who would never turn into a swan; more like a vulture.
"Yeah, I guess. It's stupid though, because this is the 2nd time we've been in the final, yet…"
"You're still nervous. It feels like your first game against Gryffindor, and you're a second year on a team full of seniors, and the Gryffindor team are all much bigger, more experienced, and can't wait to tear you to shreds."
Severus stared at him, eyes wide, and Lucius gave him a rueful grin.
"It's shocking, huh? Lucius Malfoy; Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy, and dating a Black seriously, still gets nervous playing in a game against Gryffindor. Don't worry though,' Lucius gave Severus a wicked grin, 'I'm sure that you'll have more things to worry about by the time we're out on the pitch."
Severus blinked, and Lucius stood on the bench next to him, giving a shrill, high pitched whistle that grabbed everyone's attention.
"ALRIGHT, SHUT UP! This is mine and Adrian's last game, and it's against Gryffindor, so we'd better win, or else. Adrian; nothing gets through. Rabastan and Christian; you'd better hit the Bludger right, because if you hit one of us, you'll be singing soprano in front of the common room tonight. Sev, Reggie; you drop or fumble I'll hand you over to Cattermole and Parks to have their wicked way with you. Evan, eyes on the Snitch, but make sure that we'll win if you catch it, and interfere with plays only if strictly necessary."
Lucius paused in his speech, and raked his cold, granite eyes across his team.
"Because, merde, we've come too far, worked too damn hard for too damn long to lose to a bunch of reckless, egotistical, hare-brained lions who only got through because they're favoured by Dumbledore. Team huddle; Adrian, lead us off."
They all gathered around, arms looped over backs and around waists, heads bent in the middle. A tall, slender brunette knelt in the middle, and gave a feral grin to them all.
"Slytherin on 3! 1, 2, 3…"
"SLYTHERIN!"
The cry echoed off the stone walls of the Quidditch locker rooms, and distantly, Severus could hear the chanting between the four Houses; Slytherin and Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Lucius mounted his broom, and shoot out of the changing rooms and onto the pitch, everyone following close behind.
.
"And here comes the Slytherin team, in the final for the 20th year in a row, ever since Calum Urquhart captained the team, and continued by Andromeda and Bellatrix Black, and finally, captain Lucius Malfoy. MALFOY. GREENGRASS. LESTRANGE. GREENGRASS. BLACK. SNAPE and ROOOSSSIIIEEERRRRR!"
Snape eyed up his rivals and opposite Chasers; Potter, Black and newcomer McLagan, Keeper Longbottom, and Beaters Lupin and Pettigrew. He caught James' Potter's eyes, and grinned a feral grin.
'Game on.' He mouthed.
.
It was fast, brutal, and in an entire league of its own. His shoulder had already been dislocated once, shoved harshly back into place by a Bludger aimed directly at his face from Pettigrew. His nose was broken, but had thankfully stopped bleeding around the two-hour mark, and his hands were going numb. They were in the lead, thanks to a combination of him being a Bludger sponge and all the attention was on him and not Lucius or Reggie, and Adrian giving any professional Keeper a run for their money. Longbottom was holding up well, and the score was currently 260-120 (six penalties and a few rebounds).
Now, however, found Severus barrel-rolling down the pitch in order to avoid Bludgers fired at him, increasingly glad that he'd had the foresight to take an Anti-Nausea potion before the game, the Quaffle tucked securely underneath his arm. A steep dive ensured that he avoided Black, and a sharp turn to the right got rid of McLagan. Then it was a game of chicken with Potter. When the timing was right, Severus dropped the Quaffle…
…Into the waiting hands of Lucius Malfoy, who speed towards the goal, blonde hair streaming behind him, the braid falling apart in the high velocity winds. Then, it was just him and Longbottom, and he drew back his arm to throw…
…just as a Bludger smashed into the middle of his back, knocking him from his broom to plummet 20 feet to the ground. Severus sped towards his friend, his peripheral vision seeing Evan streak downwards towards where Pettigrew was smirking, hand outstretched. Severus was gaining.
10 feet.
2 meters.
5 feet.
Fingertips.
2 feet.
Hand.
.
Both Severus and Lucius smashed into the ground, the momentum flipping Severus over so that instead of landing on his back, Severus managed to turn Lucius slightly so that he landed on his shoulder, and he himself rolled on impact with the cold ground. The roar of the crowd drowned out the sickening crack of Lucius' shoulder and most likely a few ribs as he landed, and Severus felt his shoulder dislocate yet again, along with a sharp pain in his neck that travelled down his spine.
They lay there, mud seeping into his robes, Lucius gasping for breath, Severus paralysed from the shoulders down. He knew instantly that something was wrong; he must have bruised his spine badly, maybe even a little fracture, but he couldn't for the life of him, remember why it was important that he stayed still. He knew he had to, he just didn't know why.
"AND ROSIER CATCHES THE SNITCH! A NASTY CRASH BY MALFOY AND SNAPE, MADAME POMFREY IS ON HER WAY!"
"Thanks." Lucius finally managed to wheeze out, and Severus gives a small huff in reply, his voice not working properly. He could vaguely feel his fingers going numb, and he spotted the rest of the team landing nearby, Adrian collecting their brooms, while Reggie stood to the side, face slightly green, as Sirius landed next to his brother and pulled him into a hug, turning him away from the sight of his Captain and friend lying motionless on the ground.
Then Madame Pomfrey was there, levitating them onto stretchers and pulling scanning them with her wand. Severus couldn't help the involuntary cry of pain as his back was jolted, and immediately Evan was there, squeezing his hand.
"Where does it hurt?" His voice was a slightly higher pitch than normal, and Severus chalked it up to concern, but he still couldn't answer, nor could he move his hands. He settled for meeting Evan's eyes, and tried to give him a reassuring look.
"Sev! Luc! What's wrong?" That was Narcissa, jogging towards them, panic and worry written all over the normally stoic face.
"Ms Black, excellent timing. Perhaps you could take Mr Malfoy to the Hospital Wing, while I see to Mr Snape. It seems as though he has a severe back injury."
"Sev, why won't you talk?" Evan begged, squeezing his hand harder.
Before he completely blacked out, Severus saw Regulus and Sirius make their way over to their distraught cousin, pulling him away from the stretcher and most likely taking him to the kitchens. Then it was sweet oblivion.
.
.
Severus was older, around 15, and scribbling notes in pencil onto paper on a battered kitchen table. It was clearly summer; Severus was in a white t-shirt and worn black shorts, skin a healthy glow from sunlight, with a smattering of freckles across his nose. His hair was tied up and away from his neck, and he was barefoot.
The door slammed open, and a man very similar to Severus, but with streaks of grey in his own sable hair, and a heavier jaw line, and a mouth twisted into a frown, face covered with spots of grease and dust. Severus jerked his head up when he entered, and was frowning.
"You're back early, Da. Did somethin' happen a' t' mill?"
"Where's your ma?"
"Ou' back, in t' shed. What's goin' on?"
Tobias Snape looked at his only son.
"Town meetin' in 10. You'd better come to. Don't bother changin'."
Severus looked at his father's dark countenance.
"I'll get Ma, you clean up a bit. She'll throw a fit if she sees you like tha'. How bad is it?"
The elder Snape sighed, and sank into a chair.
"It's very bad, son. T' mill is bein' closed down."
.
The town hall was packed, with the men who worked at the mill standing in a tight group, Severus' father among them. Eileen was with the other women, calming down some of the more hysterical ones with a special brew of tea (laced generously with calming draught) while Severus made a beeline for the teens, hoisting himself up on the stage in between a stunning red-head with emerald green eyes, and an older teen who looked near-identical to Severus.
"Lily, Cousin Brán."
"Sev."
"Hiyah, cousin Sev. A lo' of to-do 'round here." Bran drawled, leaning back on his hands. "Any idea what it's about? Will I need to call my Da?"
"T' mill is closin' down, that's all Da said." Bran looked at him.
"Shit."
"I heard you received your Potion's Mastery last week, Sev. Congratulations. Youngest in over a century?" Lily exclaimed, slapping Severus on the shoulder, her upper-class York accent a stark contrast from the dialect that the two cousins spoke. Severus nodded.
"T' certificate came yester-morn. We were goin' t' celebrate t'night."
"Good luck with tha'." Bran scoffed, eyeing the chattering mob. "I dinnae think anyone's goin' t' be celebratin' after this mess. Mayhap Da will need t' come anyways."
.
"ORDER! THERE WILL BE ORDER!" The headman hollered from the pulpit, paper scattered across the lectern. "Simmer down, if ya please!"
Grumbling, many took their seats, and a tense silence followed.
"Now, if ya all keep calm, t' mill is indeed being closed down. T' company that backed us went bankrupt, and trade is being moved overseas t' China. Cheaper, apparently, but less quality."
"Are they gonna be compensatin' us?" Someone called from the workers section, and the headman shook his head.
"We're not worth t' trouble. Some fancy bigwig will be inspectin' t' mill to see if I' meets up wi' the safety act, but other than tha' we need ideas. T' mill will be ours t' use, so wood is still in t' works. Ideas, anyone?"
"Carpentry." A woman with thick, bulging arms called out, clothes dusty. "We know wood, let's stick t' it."
"Is there a market, though?" An elderly man asked, standing from his seat. "No' much good makin' things if there t'ain't a market."
"Could be a side." Another woman placated the first. "Somethin' extra t' do. Give the place a little recognition for quality woodwork as well as somethin' else."
"Expand t' quarry! We always need more workers!" Someone yelled, and then it descended into chaos from there. Others argued for, while some continued to throw out ideas, and from their seat on the stage, Severus, Lily and Brán watched with the rest of the teens.
"This is stupid." Lily sighed. "Nothing will get done."
"You got any ideas?" Brán snorted at her, and Lily shrugged.
"Nothing substantial, at any rate. They'll bomb out in a few years, and some require training, which, no offense, most of them don't have. You?"
"Nothin'. Well, nothin' tha's legal, anyways." Lily looked at him askance, and Brán turned to his cousin, who had been strangely silent throughout the proceedings. "Sev? Your thoughts?"
Severus was silent, one finger tracing his pale, thin lips.
"We could make alcohol."
.
Silence fell in the hall as the townsfolk turned, as one, to stare at the only Snape child, who flushed under the scrutiny and ducked his head, lacking his normal black curtains of hair to hide behind. Brán and Lily also stared at him, Brán with a thoughtful look upon his face, while Lily stared at him in confusion.
"Perhaps ya would like t' elaborate, laddie." The headman broke the silence, and Severus blushed harder, but looked up to meet his eyes.
"Alcohol. Lord knows we drink enough of the stuff."
"Severus…" Lily dragged out.
"No, really." Severus hopped down from the stage, and started pacing. "I'm no' talkin' about all tha' common stuff tha' anyone with a cauldron, potatoes and essences can make, nor tha' cat piss tha' they serve in high-end places, I'm talking 'bout craft beer and spirits; weird, and new and different flavours tha' people havenae heard of."
"Where're you goin' with this, son?" Tobias rumbled from his position by the stage, dark eyes meeting dark eyes, one filled with excitement, the other with reserve, yet slowly filling with hope. Severus turned to face his mother.
"We would have a greater base of support if we turned to…to t' other sort as well."
Eileen stood, then, and pierced her son with a sharp gaze.
"The dark ones?" Severus nodded, and Eileen sighed, before turning to her husband, who nodded in support.
"Someone explain, if ya please." Someone yelled, and Severus stood up straighter, opening his palm, face up, and watching as a small burst of flame flickered to life to hover just above his skin, blue flames and all.
"Newsflash; magic is real, so are witches, wizards, werewolves, vampires, hags, Fae, pixies, unicorns and dragons. In t' Wizarding World, many of these creatures aren't allowed t' work, or be served in 'proper Wizarding establishments'." He mimicked, causing a ripple of laughter at the high class accent, and lessening the blow that yes, magic was real, by mocking the upper class that many of the working class hated.
"Many of these creatures are forced t' find work in t' Muggle, or t' mundane world. If we became a pro-dark creature establishment, then no' only would I' be good for business, but for t' community as well."
"Safety measures would have to be put into place." Eileen added, still staring at her son, though now it was with pride. "Full moon especially. Basements can be refitted, though. We'd have to sit down and work out t' details, later."
"I'm in." cried a woman next to Eileen. "I know a few werewolves that use m' basement every full moon that are hard done by. It'd be nice t' see them able t' have a pint after t' transformation."
Shouts of agreement rang out from across the hall, and Severus caught his father's gaze. He was taken aback by the pride evident within, but managed a small smile, to which his father nodded, and mouthed 'well done'. He extinguished the flame by crushing it in his palm, before turning to Brán.
"Take that back to your da, Brán. We could use his expertise and business knowledge."
Brán hopped down from the stage, and clapped his cousin on the back.
"I think he'll be very pleased. Expect to be summoned to meet him within the next few weeks."
With that, he turned and left, leaving Severus to stare at his retreating back, wondering what the hell had just happened, and questioning just when exactly had his cousin started to speak proper Queen's English.
.
.
.
Harry frowned as the images warped and blurred, voices becoming indistinct and muffled. Judging by the teachers reactions, and the darkening look on Umbitch's, this wasn't supposed to be happening. Little flashes of clarity occurred, but they were out of context, and made no sense.
There was flash, and Harry saw his mother walking away from a group, while another was of another red-head, this one a smaller girl, twisting fire around her hands. Another flash was a tall, grey-haired man who radiated power, hooked nose and cheekbones identical to Professor Snape's, sitting on a throne-like chair, staring down at a younger Severus. His cousin, Brán, older, dressed in black armour and screaming a war cry as he swung a claymore amongst legions of feral vampires, while a smaller woman with the same features wielded two flaming daggers at his back.
There was the sky, blue and flawless, and a green field with a small copse of trees next to a small creek, dotted with lupines, which a child ran through, white blonde curls flying behind her as she chased something only she could see, giggles bubbling out of her being. Two dark-haired twins whooped war-cries as they sped past on horses, and a small boy drew a picture of a wolf holding a sword in its mouth, a serpent encircling the world. Another set of twins, this time girls, dancing around a bonfire under starlight, sable hair swinging behind them as their shadows twisted and curved into the likeness of dragons. A brunet, carving runes into a shaft of wood, while a girl inserted a glistening stone into a small hole on a staff. Another girl with chocolate hair danced with her brother, tartan trailing behind them as they laughed, their feet beating a tattoo that merged with the music while a ravenette sawed at a fiddle with reckless abandon.
.
A red sky, and ash drifting down like grey snow, while flashes of coloured light split the air, screams ringing through the night, and voices yelled themselves hoarse in an attempt to be the better wizard, to win their respective duels, as bone white masks bleed red in the firelight. Blood and gore splattered black cloaks, and one moved with a limp, another with a black hole where his right eye used to be, before a spell zinged out of a window and exploded on the ground in front of them. A Dark Mark hanging in the sky, glowing a putrid green, and smoke swirling into the sky to block out the moon.
.
A vision in a simple white celtic dress with flowing sleeves, and white jasmine woven through fiery curls, and a shy smile curving at red lips, roses clenched into sweaty palms. A kiss of peppermint and nervousness, before a cheers from a small crowd breaks the silence.
.
A different red-head, with empty green eyes lying on the floor in front of a cot, while a black-haired boy screamed, a red lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
.
Celebrations in a pub as the war ends, as a morose group silently toast to their fallen friends in a dark corner.
.
Black robes billowing down the hall, students scattering out of the way, as a man scowls, hair pink and laughter following in his wake. Potion's explosions, and a week in hospital after pushing a student out of the way of a volatile potion. Tan skin fading to sallow with every passing year, shadows growing deeper under black eyes, and exhaustion lining weary shoulders. A shortened temper, lower tolerance, and burnt fingers.
The birth of the Hogwarts Potion's Master.
.
.
.
Professor Snape dropped to the floor, shaking, barely catching himself on his elbows before his nose hit the floor. A quiet whine echoed through the hall, and Harry leaned forward, frowning, as Umbridge moved to tower over him.
"I recognize you." She hissed. "Spawn of blood-traitors and oath-breakers. Feral, wild creatures, who need to be exterminated!" She spat on the floor next to him. To his credit, Professor Snape merely looked up, and gazed at her with an impassive look.
"I did not murder a child." He uttered, voice clear "because I was afraid of her gifts."
Umbridge recoiled, and Professor Snape hauled himself to his feet, swaying in exhaustion, before straightening his robes, and looking down his nose at her. In that moment, Harry saw with sudden clarity where the power of this conversation lay, and it wasn't in the Ministry's favour.
"I am not a dog." He stated, voice getting stronger and laced with subtle context. "I will not be chained."
.
.
Umbridge stood there, ghost-white, as the Potion's Master exited stage left, robes billowing, and continued standing there, even when Professor McGonagall tried to move her. Harry grinned.
It was nice to see Professor Snape scare someone senseless on a normal day. That it was Umbridge was just a bonus.
.
.
.
Oy, that was tiring. So hard to find a good way to end it. On that note, Please give me reviews; I need something to cheer me up.
.
.
Regards,
Siofra.