1972-1973: Revenge Boiling
October brought a change to Seuthes' routine at Hogwarts. Revenge is a dish best served cold and Snape knew exactly how to prepare it. Well, no. Not yet, anyway. He didn't know if it was even possible, but if it was, he would be able to use his findings for the rest of his life. It was worth a try.
First things first, he needed answers.
"Professor, why do spells require wand movements?"
"Hello there, Mr Snape," replied Flitwick. He had been searching for something in a cabinet in his office, but at the sound of Snape's voice lifted his head to look at the door. Then walked over to his desk and climbed on a chair, standing on top of it so that he and the Slytherin were now about the same height. "I like it when people ask that question, but I have to warn you that you'd need some background knowledge in order to understand the answer. Most find it too difficult."
If Flitwick had hoped to dissuade him, he'd failed spectacularly. Seuthes was intrigued. And was sat in the chair opposite his professor as soon as he'd been instructed to do so.
"What kind of background knowledge, sir?"
"Muggle physics, Mr Snape, muggle physics."
"What exactly?" asked Seuthes. At that, Flitwick raised his eyebrows as though he'd expected him to know nothing about anything muggle-related.
"Well, then I'd start explaining, and if there's anything you don't understand, you just ask." Seuthes nodded. "The first thing we need to note is that magic works much like light. It works best when nothing obscures its path or, in other words — in vacuum. By moving your wand you transpose the air particles in such a way that there's vacuum between them for the magic to pass through."
"So that's why wandless magic is not as strong?" asked Snape.
"Not as effective, maybe, but by no means not as strong. The magic itself needs to be much stronger in order to pass through the air unaided. By the time it reaches its target, however, it has exhausted some of its energy to get there. That's why it appears weaker."
"But... Won't air fill the vacuum faster than you can cast the spell? Aren't the wand movements practically useless at this speed?"
Flitwick smiled, twisting absentmindedly his beard. "You forget, Mr Snape, that wands are no ordinary sticks. They prevent the particles from going back to their places in order to channel the magic."
"If the wand only channels magic, why are there different movements for different spells?"
Instead of answering the question, the Charms Professor extracted his wand and drew with it a lowercase phi (φ) in the air. The letter started to glow.
"As you might know, this is the Greek letter phi, but that is of no importance. The important part is that in this symbol there are no angles. The magic starts from the bottom because that's where your wand ends up, and moves up, tracing your wand's path in reverse order." Flitwick illustrated this by moving his wand from the bottom of the straight line in the middle, and around the spiral. "As you can see, the only place where the line, and therefore the magic, crosses itself is here." He pointed at the crossing point. "When it does, it changes.
"Now take for example a symbol like this." Here, he drew a W. "At no point does the line cross itself, but here there are angles where more magic gathers and collides with itself. Not one, but three times, changing three times until you get the final result. Now let's look at these symbols." He drew an L and a V. "Both have only one angle but the angles are different and change the magic in different ways. I hope that answers your question?"
Seuthes stared at the glowing letters for a few more seconds, going over everything he'd learnt, and making sure he understood why it worked the way it did. At last, he nodded curtly. "I think so, Professor. Thank you, sir."
There were still a few more things he needed to figure out, but he wasn't in a hurry. He could dig into them at a time when he wasn't running late for Defence. Plus, he could probably find answers in some book. He needed to go to the library anyway. A book about wands, for example, would do nicely to satisfy his curiosity.
And while Seuthes was working on the gourmet dish that wouldn't be prepared for a few months still, Severus was serving the appetisers.
On Monday, October 23rd, a cauldron mysteriously exploded during Slughorn's class with the second-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. It was a mystery because Mr Potter had taken after his father and was turning in very competent potions. And Lupin was a boy that always checked thrice before he added anything to the potion. It was unlikely that the Gryffindors had messed up their brew. In fact, Slughorn checked the ingredients in his stores, and found that all the students must have used the correct ones, no combination of which could create a similar explosion.
Potter insisted that their potion had been sabotaged. He even had a suspect who, the boy claimed, had somehow dropped something in the cauldron without anyone noticing. An unlikely scenario, seeing as there had been four people working on that potion and at least one of them was bound to notice something like that. Nevertheless, Potter, joined by Sirius Black, wouldn't withdraw his accusations against Severus Snape. All the way to the infirmary, he repeated that it couldn't have been anyone else. Something that caught McGonagall's attention and she marched to Slughorn, only calming down when the latter explained that Snape couldn't possibly have done anything of the sort.
That was, of course, not true. Erumpent horns looked incredibly similar to dragon horns and it hadn't been too difficult to place one on top of the container with dragon horns. Black always rushed to be the first to gather the ingredients. Quite frankly, Severus was surprised that the quartet had managed not to blow up the horn for as long a time as they had.
That evening Severus entered the trunk, eager to report his accomplishment, only to find Sev equally as excited about something else.
"Did you know," Sev said as soon as his brother's foot touched the ground, "that the spell for darkness isn't Nox because that's what the word means in Latin. The word for darkness is 'Nox' because that's what the spell does."
"Fascinating," Severus replied dryly. "Now let's move to the more important news of the day—"
"No, no, you don't understand!" Sev cut him off. "It's true for almost every spell. At least for the older ones. Do you know what 'aberto' means? Open. And do you know what the spell does? Opens doors. Portuguese. Or Galician. The point is that before the spell was invented, the word didn't exist. They used different words."
"Sev, that's very interesting and all, but it doesn't make sense. Why would people create gibberish incantations if there was a different word at the time for, say, darkness?"
"Well, that's what I want to figure out."
And thus, the following day Seuthes found himself staying behind after class and requesting a word with Flitwick. The answer he received to the question 'Why do spells have incantations when you can cast them nonverbally?' was dissatisfactory to say the least.
"I'm sure you remember that last year we talked about the importance of intent and focus when casting spells. Well, saying what you want to do out loud makes you focus on it and that way makes the process easier."
The answer was dissatisfactory because that couldn't possibly be true for spells whose incantations hadn't meant anything at the time of their creation. Perhaps it held true for simpler spells like Up. That spell was just a variation of Accio and even second-years could do it wordlessly since the object they wanted to summon was less than a metre away from their hand. It made perfect sense that the word 'Up' just helped them envision what they needed to do and then they cast a non-verbal Accio without even realising it.
But that wasn't the case with more complicated charms and curses and Seuthes wanted an explanation. And so, he headed for the library.
Thirty minutes later, he was still skimming the titles of books in the hopes that something might hold the answers to his questions. That was when someone tapped his shoulder and he spun to face third-year Evan Rosier — a boy with black wavy hair and blue eyes, whom Seuthes had first met a year ago when the Flying Class groups had been announced.
"What do you want?" Seuthes demanded, staring the older boy down despite being at least six inches shorter.
Rosier held his hands with the palms facing out to show he didn't mean any harm. "Easy, Snape," he said. "I won't touch you. I come with a request."
"What do you want?" Seuthes repeated. Just to be on the safe side, he slipped his wand from the pocket in his sleeve, but kept it hidden from the other boy's gaze.
"People say you're good with potions. I'm not. So you can, you know, help me."
Seuthes arched an eyebrow. "Aren't you part of Slughorn's club for slugs?"
This elicited a bark of laughter from Rosier, who was quickly shushed by the librarian.
"Only because Slughorn's a fan of my dad's. And my dad's no good at Potions either. He just helped him get good grades."
"He?" inquired Snape, but Rosier only shook his head.
"Doesn't matter. Point is, I need help and you can help me."
"And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?"
"Because," said Rosier importantly, "I have influence within Slytherin. You only have your dormmates on your side. Ah, and Narcissa, but that's only because you caught Lucius' attention last year and she's head over heels with him. Anyway, Narcissa's got other problems on her head and the other four can't defend you against everyone. You've had enough proof of this. Me, I can scare them. My father's important and they know it, they won't cross me."
Seuthes pondered this for a minute, then said, "How exactly do you expect me to help you? I won't do your homework, if that's what you mean."
"No, no, you got me all wrong. See, Slughorn was boring as hell in first year," (Seuthes silently agreed but didn't show it.) "And well, I didn't listen, so I don't know shit about potions. Basically, I need a tutor."
Well, that was a welcome surprise. And it could be easily arranged.
"Alright," said Snape. "When do you want to start?"
"I'm free right now, if you are."
And so, his initial reason for going to the library forgotten, Seuthes grabbed a few books on Potions he knew for a fact to be useful, and handed them to Rosier. Then the two headed for the fourth floor and entered the deserted room Snape often used for studying.
The next two hours they spent going over different bases, the properties of some of the ingredients taught in first and second year, the importance of temperature in potion-making and so on, and so forth. It was Rosier who called it quits, exhausted after having learnt so much new information. They entered the common room together under the questioning gazes of the people on the couches. Rosier went to join his group near the fire, Seuthes entered his dorm and climbed on his bed, pulling the curtains closed and stretching on the mattress. Now that it was over, the whole tutoring business had exhausted him as well.
The process was repeated the following day. But instead of rushing through everything like his brother had, Severus talked more in depth about the bases until Rosier could explain everything himself, in his own words.
On Thursday, October 26th, Lily joined Snape by their tree for lunch.
"You weren't in the Great Hall for dinner yesterday," she said. "Why?"
"I wasn't? Oh! Right. D'you know Evan Rosier?"
"No. But I know his father's evil."
"Evil? How so?"
Lily pulled a blanket from her bag, placed it on the ground, and sat next to her friend, leaning against the tree.
"Dunno. That's what people in my House say."
Seuthes frowned. "People in your house say I'm evil too. Evan Rosier isn't. I don't know about his father, but he isn't. I didn't go to supper yesterday because I was teaching him Potions."
"You're joking!" Lily shrieked, searching her friend's eyes for any indication that he was. There was none.
"Nope," Seuthes replied proudly. "Giving lessons to third-years."
"Severus, they're using you. They're all using you, don't you realise that?"
"How would you know?" Seuthes replied defensively. "They're helping me, Lils. Lestrange, Wilkes, Avery, Mulciber. They're helping me. You don't see it, because it all happens in our common room, but really, life's been much more pleasant since I started working with them during Potions and not with you."
His brain registered what he'd said a moment too late. Lily stared at him, her eyes full of hurt, and rushed toward the castle. Seuthes ran after her and had almost caught up with her, when she whirled around and shouted:
"Don't touch me!"
And she sprinted toward the gate, leaving Seuthes to stand frozen in the middle of the path. He was reminded of these times when he and Russ had first tried to befriend her, and she had pushed them away. And just like he had done then, he now stared for a long moment at the spot Lily had vacated. Slowly, he went back to the tree, collected his bag and the blanket Lily had forgotten on the ground, and headed for the castle.
He had two free periods and then Astronomy so really, he had nothing to do for at least two hours. For lack of a better idea of what to do with his time, or rather — any desire to do anything whatsoever — Seuthes returned to his dormitory to talk to his brother about what had occurred. It was no help. After suffering Russ' insults for about five minutes, he exited the trunk and started searching for something else to do.
As he passed through the common room, he turned down Rosier's request for another lesson, telling him they'd discuss it tomorrow, and headed for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, where the second-year Gryffindors were currently sat. He found an alcove a few metres down the corridor, and plopped on the floor.
It seemed forever before the bell rang and the door clashed against the stone wall, students pouring from the room and flooding the corridor both with their presence and their loud voices. Lily was one of the last to exit, Tiana Cattermole by her side.
Seuthes left the alcove and approached her, but she turned ceremonially around and walked toward the other end of the hall.
"Lily, wait!" Seuthes pleaded, but she didn't listen.
"I don't want to talk to you. Leave me alone."
Her voice was cold, the same cold voice Snape was used to hearing from her when they discussed her sister.
"No. No, I won't," Seuthes insisted and trudged after the two girls. He didn't care that the other Gryffindors were looking and laughing at him. "You're doing what you told me not to do last year. You're pushing me away."
"Evans told you to leave her alone, Snivellus," he heard Black's taunting voice say, but didn't turn to look at him, nor did he respond.
He didn't need to. Lily did it for him:
"Don't interfere, Black. And no, Severus, it is not the same. Last year, I hadn't done anything to make you avoid me. You did."
"No. I didn't. I'm not sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for the way I said it, because there's been a misunderstanding." He turned to look around at the faces of all the Gryffindors that were still there, watching, then turned back to Lily. "And if you don't want to be a hypocrite, you won't force me to explain in front of all these gawking apes."
"Watch your mouth, Snape!" Pettigrew shouted, but Seuthes didn't pay him any mind. He handed Lily her blanket, and strode past her and toward the staircase.
Once there, he stopped and waited. He sincerely hoped Lily would listen to him and let him explain. And sure enough, he heard her tell Cattermole to go catch up with the others and that she would join them later. And then she was at the end of the corridor, looking expectantly at her friend.
"Well?"
"Well. To put it in a nutshell, I didn't mean that working with the Slytherins was better than working with you or that I prefer it this way. Because I don't. But well, they do help me. D'you remember when you thought I'd cut Lestrange's leg?"
Lily nodded.
"Yeah, that's not the only time things like this happen, but I normally don't react. It's what happens when you're not a pure-blood and you're in Slytherin."
"You mean they bully you?" Lily gasped.
"I don't want your sympathy," said Seuthes sternly. "I just want you to understand that if I want protection, I have to pay them. Lestrange and the rest keep the others away. In exchange, I help them with Potions. Same goes for Rosier. Nothing's free in life. You take something, you give something. That's how it works."
Lily stared at him then and Seuthes could only envy her innocence.
"That's not true," she insisted. "You shouldn't have to go through this."
"I don't want your sympathy, Lily," he repeated. "Just accept that this is my world. Your world might not be like this, but mine is."
There was silence for a long second before Lily sighed.
"Alright. Then I'll be the one thing you don't have to pay for."
Seuthes only averted his eyes. Oh, but I do, Lily, he thought bitterly. Everything I suffer from Black and Potter and half of what I suffer from the Slytherins is my payment for your friendship.
As November progressed, more and more people started asking Snape for help with Potions. It started with two more third-years, but then a few of the first-years joined. Halfway through the month Avery and Mulciber also started taking lessons and even one of the fourth-year girls decided to try this new method for getting better grades. It was working quite well. The Snapes decided to split the students into two groups with Severus teaching the third- and fourth-years and Seuthes taking the younger students. But still, they had their hands full and didn't have much time to do any outside activities. As an upside, though, they were charging money. It was only a few knuts — nothing for the rich pure-bloods, but quite a substantial amount for the half-blood Snape, who was considered poor even by muggle standards.
It was the first week of December. Snow had long ago covered the ground and some of the less known paths around the Hogwarts grounds were now completely invisible. The weather was chilly and the students preferred to stay with the warmth of the castle. But not Severus. Light breeze was ruffling his hair as he waited for Lily to join him by the tree.
But instead of his friend, it was a small, dwarf-like creature that entered his line of vision and before he knew it, the red cap (for that is what these little beasts are called) had jumped and grabbed his hair and shirt with one hand and had started delivering punches with its tiny fist. Severus lost his footing and tumbled to the ground, swinging his hands in a futile attempt to push the creature off his chest.
"Vigilance, Mr Snape," he heard the by now familiar voice of Professor Dimova. "Darrkness strrikes when you least expect it." And then, instead of helping him, she once again disappeared to wherever she'd come from.
Kicks and punches continued falling both from Severus and the creature. One particularly well aimed blow forced Snape to duck his head and it ended up hitting the ground. Another punch hit the mark straight in the middle of his face and though it didn't hurt, his eyes watered and blurred his vision. He lifted his hands to protect his face and with every attack he escaped, his breathing became more and more laboured. He was about to admit defeat, when he saw his opportunity. The red cap swung its fist and Severus twisted his body to the left, and grabbed the little monster's tiny hand, pulling it further to the ground, until the creature was lying on the snow next to its opponent. Not sparing a single second, Severus clambered to his knees, pressing the entirety of his unimpressive weight on top of the red cap's chest.
"Ay! What're ya doing! Attackin' the poor nipper like that!" Who was the attacker and who was the poor nipper remained unknown.
A huge hand grabbed Severus by the robes and lifted him in the air. The red cap, now able to move freely, was gone in an instant.
"Let go of me!" Severus demanded.
"What happened t' yer clothes?" asked Hagrid, placing the boy back on his feet. Water was dripping from the black Slytherin robes and his wet hair stuck to his pale face.
Now that Hagrid had mentioned it, the chilly air suddenly hit Severus like a bludger. The adrenaline was leaving his system and he was starting to shiver like a tree's leaves in autumn.
"Snow happened," he replied. "And Dimova's horrible jokes. Or teaching methods. Whatever."
"Right then. Me cabin's over there, we can get ya somewhat warm and sit ya by the fire."
Severus was too cold and exhausted to protest and let himself be steered toward the hut. A few metres up the hill, Lily noticed the two retreating figures, but decided to leave them to it. She headed back to Gryffindor Tower.
"Potions, eh?" Severus heard Hagrid's voice come from somewhere behind his back. He was sitting in an enormous chair in front of the hearth, covered with three or four blankets. His outer robes were hanging above the fire.
"What d'you mean?"
"Heard yeh're givin' them Slytherins lessons."
Severus scratched his nose — an action that proved quite difficult with his hand buried in all the blankets.
"Yeah. What about it?"
"Ain't nothing wrong 'bout that, lad. Where'd ya learn all that stuff?"
"My mother taught me. And I've been reading a lot."
Hagrid lumbered to the hearth and sat in a chair next to Severus.
"Yer mother, eh? Didn't know she were any good with potions," he remarked, stretching his hands over the fire.
"Do you know her?"
"Quiet lass. She was a year after me. Didn't say nothing when they expelled me, unlike some others."
Severus turned to stare at Hagrid with wide eyes, but the giant man didn't notice. He was gazing at the flames dancing before him.
"You were expelled? From Hogwarts? Wha- Why?"
Abruptly, Hagrid rose to his feet.
"Did ya want some tea," he asked, already holding the kettle. "I never offered ya tea."
"Why are you avoiding the question?"
Hagrid pushed a cup in Severus' hand and started pouring hot water.
"After ya get warm, ya can help me feed the thestrals."
Severus politely declined the offer. That day he learnt no more of Hagrid's years at Hogwarts. But he left the hut with one more thing to figure out.
It wasn't long before the students were handing in their last papers for the term and packing their cases for Christmas. And once again Seuthes was standing in front of Number 2, Spinner's End. He slipped inside, unnoticed. No-one greeted him. No-one even heard him enter the house. Number 2, Spinner's End was void of sound, void even of Tobias Snape's usual grunting, grumbling, shouting and so on. Which meant he wasn't home yet.
A bit more confident in his step after this revelation, Seuthes left the still locked trunk in the living room and ascended the steps to the upper floor. His mother was sleeping on the mattress in his bedroom. Long strands of unkempt, matted black hair covered the features of her face. Her clothes were crumpled and dirty, as though she hadn't changed them in more than two weeks. The pale hands resting above the blanket were much too thin even for her and Seuthes was hit by the sudden thought that she might not be eating at all. On the floor, just by the bed, was a package — an unopened package Russ had sent her months ago. For a moment, Seuthes debated with himself whether he should wake her and confront her about it, but decided against it. Instead, he went back to the living room.
"None!? Not a single dose?" Russ asked in disbelief, his frustration obvious by the harshness of his voice.
Seuthes only nodded.
"Well, I suppose if she doesn't need it, that's—"
"Doesn't need it!" Seuthes interrupted, flinging his arms to emphasise his incredulity. "Merlin, she needs it! She's just too stupid to—"
He stopped his tirade suddenly, and strode to the front door.
"What. are you doing?" Russ demanded, but Seuthes was already out on the street and advancing toward... somewhere.
"Somewhere" was a small building about half a mile away. Late at night, it was quite easy to locate it, for the shouts of the people occupying the place could be heard by half the town. Seuthes burst through the door. Someone tried to stop him, but he only pushed the man's hand out of his way, and stalked to the table at the back of the room, where the loudest group was currently having their fifth drink for the night.
Tobias was at the foot of the table, staring at his son with unfocused, empty eyes.
"You, obnoxious boor," Seuthes said, his finger practically piercing through his father's chest, "are leaving."
Awkward silence followed the boy's demand, but he didn't back down. It took Tobias two very long seconds to comprehend what was happening. He flung his hand, but where he had intended it to reach his son, it only hung loosely by his side. It caused him to lose his balance and the man was forced to lean against the table for support.
Meanwhile, Seuthes had stepped closer, fumbling in the pocket of his father's jacket, and tossing a 50 new pence coin on the table. He wouldn't be surprised if it didn't cover the bill, but Seuthes didn't care and nor did anyone demand more. He then let the man lean against him, and escorted him to the exit and then to the house at the end of the town. Once or twice Tobias tried to protest, but his words were unintelligible and in any case, he didn't have the strength to stand on his two feet, let alone protest his son's actions.
As soon as they reached the battered living room, Seuthes pushed his father to lie, or rather sprawl, on the sofa, and it took but a second for him to begin his tirade.
"When did you last talk to your wife, you blasted drunkard! Can't you see she is— she is—" He stuttered and the momentary pause allowed him to see his father had already drifted into deep slumber and it wasn't him who was listening, but Russ. It did nothing to stop the venomous words from spilling out of his mouth and he continued to pour his frustration onto the unresponsive man.
How could he be so senseless, so selfish, so blind and uncaring! His wife, the woman he'd sworn to protect, wouldn't even share a room with him, and was slowly but surely headed toward her impending death, preceded only by a string of blurred days and nights full of misery. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve to suffer while the man who should have been her husband was spending their last money on cheap whiskey, away from the woman that so desperately needed someone to be at her side.
He didn't notice his brother descend the last few steps of the staircase and step closer. Not until Russ placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and waited until Seuthes finally exhausted his reserves of colourful insults. The latter was shaking slightly as the stream of words finally seized. Tears were stinging in his eyes, not yet ready to fall, but enough to blur his vision as he was guided upstairs to the bed his parents had once shared.
"Where have y' put me money, boy!" Tobias yelled a few days later. It was early in the morning, the sun had just risen above the horizon. To say the man was up and about would be an overstatement, but he certainly was headed to the nearest shop for his daily dose of beer.
"My best guess is you wasted it all yesterday," Seuthes lied. In reality, he'd snitched it from his father's wallet the previous day, after the man had returned home carrying a half-empty bottle of vodka. At the moment, Russ was visiting the market and exchanging the coins that would have otherwise been spent on alcohol, for more lasting products like flour and rice.
"Don't play games with me, Sev'rus!"
"I'm not," Seuthes replied evenly, not even bothering to correct his father. "You can check my pockets, you can check the entire house if you wish. Gone. All gone. I heard they fired you too, huh?"
Tobias stepped closer. Seuthes stepped back.
"Listen here, y' little scum!" the man roared. "What I do and don't do 's none o' your business! I'll find a job in no time."
"Interesting. Is the pub offering salary to the most tanked bloke for becoming a laughing stock?"
By now Seuthes was backed against the closed door of his bedroom where his mother was currently lying motionlessly. And as his father took one more step toward him, he instinctively slipped his wand from the pocket in his sleeve (his mother hadn't cared enough to take any of their magical belongings this time), and pointed it with a steady hand at the man in front of him.
Tobias laughed. A low chuckle that felt like cold water on embers. Seuthes tightened the grip on his wand. He was already envisioning the curse he was going to use. He could already see his father tumbling to the ground, feel the satisfaction of watching him be the one to take the blow at last.
And then reason seemed to catch up with his brain. He couldn't attack a muggle with magic. The Ministry was bound to notice an attack in a place where the registered witch hadn't used magic in more than a year. Seuthes extended a hand behind his back, opened the door and slipped inside his bedroom, leaning against the door to stop the man from entering. Eileen was staring at the ceiling, but he only spared her a glance before focusing again on his efforts to hold the door closed.
"Coward," Tobias spat. "Come out here and face me like a man!"
Now it was Seuthes' turn to laugh. He would either stay here, or go out there and spell the man's guts out of his body. He rather thought his father would prefer the first option.
While Sev was constantly starting arguments with Tobias, Severus preferred to stay away from their fights, where he wouldn't accidentally be caught in the crossfire. Surprisingly, Seuthes had managed to avoid all physical confrontation, though one time, as he'd been running up to the second floor and the safety of his room, he'd slipped on the staircase, rolled down the steps and accidentally pushed his father with him on his way. He did have a bruise on his back from that, but so did Tobias and so, Sev considered that a win.
Severus, on the other hand, instead of focusing on his father, focused on his mother in an attempt to stabilise her health. He'd started by forcing her to take a vial of the Elixir to Induce Euphoria every day, but it hadn't been enough. So he'd given her more of the potion and that had turned out not to be a good option either. Her breathing became laboured, her nose was tweaking, and more than once she'd emptied the contents of her stomach on the floor. All expected side effects, but discouraging nonetheless. That was why, on New Year's Day, he vowed to find a way to counterbalance those effects and send home a new batch. Perhaps a Howler a day would make his mother take the Elixir regularly.
Sev had a different approach. As they packed their luggage in the early hours of January 2nd, he turned toward his father, and sneered:
"You make sure she's fed, or trust me, I'll make sure your eyes stare at the rest of you from a ten-metre distance."
And then, they were off to King's Cross.