Chapter 2 - Where we meet our Hero
Oswald Ignatius Prince had seen his grandson only once before the funeral for his daughter and had at the first meeting been impressed despite himself at the tenacity of the small tyke. It was obvious to Oswald that his daughter and her filthy muggle husband couldn't provide for the small child, and it was even more apparent to the man that they also didn't care one way or another if the child survived to adulthood, for Severus had been malnourished, filthy and had possessed the social skills of an animal. But despite the obvious neglect if not outright abuse the child was enduring Severus was surviving. At the funeral for his daughter he had been impressed again with the child, though still malnourished, filthy and now excessively poorly dressed there was a fierce pride that burned in the bottom of the Prince black eyes. Both pride and a hunger to better himself, to be more than the filthy freak who lived in the last row house on Spinner's End.
Twice Oswald had approached Tobias Snape with the intent of taking his grandson, and twice the man had refused to listen. Oswald was not a patient man and had tried to do things the legal way. But the Prince family had never been one to follow the rules, nor had they ever suffered an insult such as the one Tobias offered every time he slammed the door in the face of the aging Lord. So when he arrived for his third attempt he did not knock, nor did he provide any sort of polite discussion about compensation. No he merely walked through the door and killed the man. No regret, no remorse. Looking at his grandson he merely said
"Let that be a lesson to you son, no one insults a Prince, not even kin, and lives to tell the tale." Severus had looked at him with cold black eyes nearly engulfed by the two black eyes that had to be the result of a broken nose and nodded once. Oswald grinned wolfishly. His daughter might have been his greatest disappointment but it was beginning to look like his grandson, would be his greatest achievement.
Eight year old Severus Snape had never known comfort until he arrived at the Prince Estate, and then he was nearly drowned in it. The rules had started the moment he appeared on the doorstep with his grandfather. He was a halfblood of a prestigious pureblood line and he would learn what that meant so that when he attended Hogwarts he would be a credit to his ancient family name. The first week was the worst, with the house elves forcefully bathing him every morning before he was allowed down to breakfast. When he stopped fighting them and bathed himself they then started in on what he was to wear, forcefully dressing him each morning. Sometimes undressing him if he had accomplished the feat himself but in a manner that wasn't pleasing to them. When he realized that his grandfather didn't care if he wore all black every day as long as he looked the part of a well born pureblood things got a little easier. His grandfather never asked why he always wore black, and Severus never let on that he couldn't see the colors well enough to determine if they matched or not.
After breakfast began his lessons. Some were taught by tutors, some were taught by his Grandfather. He enjoyed the dueling lessons immensely for it gave him a constructive way to let off some of his frustrations without getting into trouble with his grandfather for being disrespectful. He knew the consequences of that better than any others. He knew his lessons would be cancelled for the rest of the day, he would get his mouth washed out with soap by a house elf, and then he would be required to write out an apology with all the pomp and circumstance required of one pureblood apologizing to another of equal or greater station to his grandfather for the infraction before he would be allowed his supper and his books back.
This schedule continued for three years until his Hogwarts letter arrived. Than he was promptly escorted to Diagon Alley to procure his school supplies and a new wand. Severus didn't really understand why he needed a new wand, the one he was using felt perfect in his hand. It was a dark rosewood nearly black with a red tint that soothed him. His grandfather had said that the core was a basilisk plume. It was 9 and a half inches and rigid in it's movement. Severus hadn't survived the last three years by picking fights with his grandfather though, so he kept his mouth shut and his head held high. Once he had the new wand he would negotiate to keep the old one, as a just in case situation. His grandfather liked it when he thought outside the rules of right or wrong and was forever saying that right and wrong was only for gryffindors and girls. Severus was determined to prove once and for all that he was neither.