1973-1974: A Plan to Help

Snape couldn't understand why, but it seemed that suddenly everyone had turned against him. It happened in the halls, during class, but most of all in the sacred moments he shared with Lily. And they all had different reasons. Some didn't like his use of curses, others were not content with the tutoring he was offering to his housemates, for he had returned back to exchanging his knowledge for the ability to feel safe in his common room. And Gryffindors especially seemed to find his spending time with Lily somehow personally offensive.

The first person to save him from such hassle was Hagrid. It happened on one of the few sunny days in October as he'd been waiting for Lily to join him after her Divination class. She'd never reached him, for Macdonald had distracted her otherwise, and Snape himself had been ambushed by two older Gryffindors. Before things had escalated, their shouts had caught the attention of the gamekeeper, and he had come to the rescue. The Slytherin wasn't about to thank him, of course. After all, he was perfectly capable of dealing with two brainless bastards himself, even if the situation had looked quite hopeless by the time his saviour had arrived. Nevertheless, it felt good that there was someone, even if that someone was Hagrid, who was willing to help a poor half-blood Slytherin in a fight. He kept away from the man's hut after that, unwilling to suffer the same shame any time soon.

The next person to save him was Mulciber of all people, and if Snape didn't know better, he would've thought the boy had been watching over him like a hawk. There was no way in hell that the burly Slytherin would have cared enough to prevent the Self-fertilising Shrub from chopping Severus' hand off during one of the new Professor Sprout's classes. So, it had to have been an accident that Mulciber had pushed Snape to the ground. Still, Severus was silently grateful.

After those first few incidents, he became quite good at defending himself. Except for Potter and his cronies... Those were, unfortunately, out of his league. More so when it was three on one, and a silent fourth watching them from ten feet away. But Snape was going to ruin them. One day, those four were going to regret ever meeting him.

In the meantime, he sent a crying Ravenclaw for Pomfrey to deal with, and a terrified first-year Hufflepuff to spread around the castle tales of the evil slimy Slytherin, who had nearly beheaded him. Good thing Lily had witnessed the whole thing, and had vouched for him in front of the professors. There had been no-one brave or stupid enough (not even a Gryffindor) who dared to touch him after that until the end of term.

"I don't wish to burden you," Lily said the afternoon before the Hogwarts Express was going to take her to London. This year Snape was staying at Hogwarts. He wasn't ready yet to return to that house, it was a painful reminder of things he wished to forget. "But I thought you might be able to help... Seeing as you're not muggle-born and all."

"Alright, spit it out already."

"Well, y' see... I checked the library, but it was so much useless information, I thought you might spare me a few hours. Hopefully..." Severus was about to interrupt and urge her again, when she finally voiced her question. Sort of. "We have to look up curses for Divination. Ones that are still... you know, in effect. If you know any...?"

Divination was the first subject Seuthes had ruled out as an elective, even in the unstable state he'd been at the end of last year. And still he had to listen about it every week, when Lily would come down from that tower, beaming after another prediction of a perfect life. As much as Severus wished that for his friend, he sincerely hoped Divination was the kind of unreliable fortune-telling done by fraudulent muggle soothsayers.

To the half-question he replied, astonished, "You don't know?"

"Don't know what?" asked Lily, staring at the tiny script of the enormous book on Blood Curses she'd brought from the library.

"About... There's a curse in my family. I mean the Prince family. At least that's what Grandma says."

"Really!?" Lifting her gaze from the pages, the girl stared at him in dismay. "What is it? You've never mentioned it."

"The Prince Curse. It shall be a dangerous, dark world, when the twins become of age."

"So what happens when twins become of age?"

"No-one knows yet."

"Because there haven't been any twins in your family?"

"Oh, there have," Severus said, and a shiver went down his spine.

"Then why not?"

"They kill them."

Silence reigned for a long time after that, until the Slytherin finally interrupted it. "Don't fret over it Lily. Grandma's the only Prince left, so no more baby murders."

"Yes, but wizards have a weird way of keeping track of family lore. Even I know you're not considered pure-blood, if you have muggle grandparents. So technically even you wouldn't be the last to carry Prince blood."

"Are you insinuating that I would kill my children?" Severus gasped.

"What? No! Of course not. I was just trying to explain it to myself. So I can write that essay. These things are so confusing... Barbaric!"

It was the first happy Christmas in years. Well, that was an overstatement... Peaceful was perhaps a better word for it. The castle was nearly empty, void of both students and professors. The common room was for Snape alone, and safe for him the only others, who had chosen to stay for the holidays, were two Hufflepuffs and a seventh-year Ravenclaw who, quote, didn't want to waste time for revision. And two professors, which Severus couldn't help but pity. It must be really frustrating to be forced to spend Christmas away from home, and watch over four teenagers. Not that they were causing trouble. The problem was that they weren't, so the teachers' presence there was utterly meaningless.

That morning Severus went up to the Great Hall for brunch, in a sense quite grateful that there would be no-one there to bother him. The other five had already arrived, though the Ravenclaw seemed not to have left at all after supper the previous day. That boy was likely the reason for Ravenclaw stereotypes. He was sitting at the end of the table, as far away from everyone else as possible, and evidently completely dissociated from everything around him.

The Hufflepuffs were on their own table, playing a card game one of them had received from his muggle parents. The professors — McGonagall and Sprout — were, weirdly enough, sitting at the otherwise empty Gryffindor table, facing each other, and engaging in friendly banter, glasses of butterbeer between them. Looking at them, Severus felt a strange sense of jealousy, and suddenly it didn't seem all that bad, being in their place. He wished he too could so openly sit with his friend in the middle of the Hall without having to worry that someone might try to hex him from behind, or that he would be jumped at as soon as he set foot in his common room.

Snape didn't receive any gifts that year. Not that he had expected any, and not that anyone noticed. But it reminded him of the times he had, and he realised for the thousandth time that he had never really appreciated those moments enough, when he'd had the chance. The jealousy never quite left him that week.

Severus closed his eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to fall, and cursed himself for having sat such that he was facing the room. They probably wouldn't notice, but he felt horribly vulnerable.

He vowed in that moment to cherish every moment he shared with Lily, for she was now the only thing that brought him joy. He would help her with that book, he would listen to her even when she blabbered things he couldn't understand, and he would make her feel appreciated. He would not make the same mistake again, he would not take her for granted.

School resumed on January 3rd. Lily had once again brought him a gift — a wooden souvenir from Nottingham, and an apology that she'd been unable to find something more appropriate. And Snape once again found himself offering empty words in exchange for the beautiful presents Lily always gave him. It wasn't that he didn't mean the words — he meant them with all his heart —, but he'd never felt that they were enough to return the favour. One day, when they were both grown up, he was going to buy her the most beautiful, magnificent gift to pay back for all the times he'd shown up empty-handed. And he was going to be the first person to buy her book.

In a way they hadn't in almost a year, Snape's days slipped into a nearly comfortable routine. Eat. Go to classes. Teach Potions. Find Lily. At some point he had realised that going to that place Dumbledore had shown him was a much safer place to meet, since nobody else seemed to know of it. So the next step was 'fight back on his way to the common room, sometimes with the help of his dormmates'. That last part was the one that most confused him. By far. So one night, when they'd both gone to bed, he decided to confront them about it:

"Why are you defending me?"

His curtains were for once drawn to the side, so he saw as Avery straightened up against the headboard, and Lestrange turned to his other side so that he was facing the lone bed at the back of the room. Almost as if they'd been waiting for this conversation.

"Why do you find this so strange, Snape?" returned Lestrange.

"Let's see..." Seuthes made a dramatic pause as though to come up with the reasons he'd already been repeating in his head for months. He could rule out a single instance of Mulciber pushing him to the ground at the right moment as an accident. But it was now happening too often to be a lucky coincidence. "You yourselves were attacking me until the beginning of this y—"

"Your memory serves you wrong," interrupted Avery. "The only Slytherin to have attacked you this year is Travers, and even that would be an overstatement."

"Yes. And you sat by and laughed." Watching the memory of that day, and not experiencing it, had given Seuthes a much more objective knowledge of what had occurred. And objectively, it had been more or less as bad as Severus had felt it'd been at the time.

"You seemed to be doing a really good job of defending yourself. Why would we interfere?"

Well. That was a good point, but it still didn't explain the laughter. Seuthes was fairly certain they couldn't explain the laughter in a way that would present them in good light. "Even if I accept that answer, why the sudden care for me? You've never done it before. On the contrary."

"You cannot seriously tell me you've been the target of this many attacks since first year." Another good point, but then... Why should it matter if the attacks were two or five? Before he could ask another question, Avery continued, "You're probably asking why there are so many people against you, Snape. I know. Everyone saw you fight Yan. And the mudbloods, they know they'll never have such power, so they got scared. They're jealous of you and they want to hurt you.

"We, on the other hand, we were impressed. We saw potential. Slytherins stick together, and especially against mudbloods, who hate you only for your superior blood and skill."

"Very intriguing, but you're missing a couple of details," said Seuthes. "It's not all muggle-borns and they're not all muggle-borns."

"Muggle-borns!" Wilkes screeched and dissolved into a fit of feigned laughter. "You're not one of them knobhead muggle-lovers, are you?"

"Oh, please. I've seen enough muggles to know exactly what riffraff they are. But Lily Evans is my friend and I will not listen to you insulting her."

"Evans is not like the rest," Avery agreed. "And I can tell you precisely why — it is exactly because she's your friend. So you've taught her about the wizarding world, and she knows that you having more experience with magic is only natural. But she is the exception, Snape. Do not think the rest of the mudbloods are like her. Watch your back around them, and we'll try to do the same."

He hadn't really thought about it before, but they really were all muggle-born. With the exception of the Gryffindor quartet, every single person who approached him was either muggle-born, or a half-blood like himself. And as he was now watching his back even more closely than before, Snape started to notice some strange behaviour that had escaped his attention until now.

Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin were seen in all kinds of weird places around the castle. Places Snape had never seen them before. And regardless of whether it was only one of them or all four, they always carried a notebook and a quill, sometimes a muggle pencil or a big piece of paper folded like those road maps he'd seen tourists use.

It was very curious indeed, and the good part was that they were very predictable in whatever it was they were doing. Snape realised very quickly that the four berks were slowly making their way around the castle, floor by floor, room by room. And because Hogwarts was so big, it was a safe guess to predict that if they'd been on the fifth floor the previous day, they were either going to be there the next one, or they'd move to the fourth, if they'd managed to scan the entire upper floor. And thus began the seemingly out of nowhere instances in which Filch would catch the culprits after curfew. After the fifth time McGonagall was so fed up with them, that she decided to give them a reason to be out of Gryffindor Tower at night for about a month. Only the reason was not exploration, but scrubbing bathroom floors and cleaning up the neverending mess in Sprout's greenhouses and Slughorn's classroom. Needless to say, Snape was quite happy with that.

And then came the summer and he was happy no more. For some time before the end of the academic year the brothers had discussed where they would go for the holidays. Staying at Hogwarts seemed like the most appealing option, but they'd never heard of anyone staying at the castle, and when Severus had gone to ask the Headmaster, Dumbledore hadn't been in his office. So Spinner's End it was. At least there they wouldn't have to worry about hiding. Pomfrey had offered to take them with her, but that was definitely not a possibility. Snape couldn't accept charity, and he would never be able to pay her back for such generosity.

Spinner's End was hauntingly quiet. But what's more depressing — magic was no longer allowed. Despite that, Seuthes picked up Arithmancy once more. The Duelling Club had given him a couple of ideas he wanted to try. Unfortunately, the creation of spells contained a very important and oftentimes frustrating practical part, and that required magic. So in the third week of July, Seuthes found himself riding a bus to Manchester with the last few quid he'd made from tutoring in his pocket.

That city was big enough that no-one would be able to trace any sort of magic to him. He got off at one of the last stops, and went in search of a secluded place where no-one would spot him.

Clayton Vale turned out to be exactly what he was looking for. It was a big area in the western side of Manchester that in ten years would become home to all kinds of wildlife. Right now, though, it was a neglected jumble of abandoned buildings, demolished or vandalised over the years. By the looks of it, Seuthes was going to remain undisturbed in any one of them.

He thought himself quite genius for coming up with the idea for this spell. His research last year had taught him that the incantation of a spell was a very big part of what made the spell work. So what if your opponent couldn't say the incantation? They'd either have to cast non-verbally, which not only many people were unable of, but even if they were, their magic would be weakened. Or they wouldn't cast at all.

The first thing he thought of was to somehow cast Muffliato on another person. That distorted the sound for anyone outside of the spell's bubble. But then, what if he ended up inside the bubble? It was a good enough option, but Snape didn't settle for good. He wanted perfect. So he came up with a plan to prevent them from talking at all. And what better way to do that than to stick their tongue to the top of their mouth?

The building Seuthes entered was dilapidated and covered in graffiti, but the light that came in through the holes that had once been windows made the atmosphere almost inviting. He let his bag drop to the ground, then crouched next to it, and rummaged inside until he found the Latin dictionary he was looking for. On one of its pages he'd listed a couple of words that might work, if combined with the correct wand movement. Of course, he'd need a second person to test the spell. But first, he had to find out which of the incantations he'd prepared would fire from his wand at all.

And so, hours of reciting seemingly meaningless combinations of sounds passed by. "Tonguestick! Liplock! Mouthshut! Linguasero! Lurasero! Labiacludo!"

Really, he needn't have bothered searching for a secluded place to practise. Had any muggle passed by in that moment, they would've thought him nothing more than an adorable little child playing wizard with his wooden stick. Because try as he might, his wand acted like your common piece of wood. Not even a spark fired from it that day.

Until he got to the bus stop, and realised he wouldn't have enough money to make the same trip tomorrow. So instead of taking the bus, he slipped into the first pub he found. Under the judgemental looks of the bartender and the men on the tables, Seuthes found a seat next to the bar, perfectly aware that the place was self-service, and no-one was going to offer him anything. Which was just as well, for he didn't want to be bothered at all.

It took ages before one of the cliques at the back of the room invited the bartender to a game of darts. The man looked around, and once he'd made sure there were no customers that would require him behind the bar, locked the till, and promptly dropped the key in his pocket, then headed toward the group gathered around the board.

Seuthes didn't need an invitation. He was standing far enough that no-one would suspect him of doing anything, yet had direct sight of the cash register. And a wand and the skill to use it. "Alohomora," he whispered. The sound of the lock was lost in the din of tipsy men chanting an unintelligible song. An Accio he cancelled just before the drawer was ripped off the till, and a Wingardium Leviosa brought the little thief exactly twelve pounds and thirty-one pence.

He stood up, and with all the calm in the world, stepped out onto the street.

Severus wasn't at home, when Seuthes arrived at Number 2, Spinner's End. At least that's what he thought until after the fourth time he'd called "RUSS!" with all his might, his father's angry face popped out of the kitchen.

"Stop shouting, y' insolent brat!" The face was positively red, but whether it was anger or alcohol was unclear. "Severus, get y'r arse in here, are y' deaf!"

"He is here then?"

"Course he's here! Not like there's anyone 'e'd go to that can tolerate yeh."

Seuthes bit back his retort. His father didn't have the mental capacity to understand it anyway.

Inside his bedroom, he found the trunk open. Well, it had been unlocked since they'd left Hogwarts because unlocking it required a spell. But now the lid was wide open, and Seuthes had a pretty good idea of where his brother was — bent over a cauldron in the little room inside.

"What are you doing?" he asked the moment he reached the landing of the stairs.

"Shh!" Severus stirred the potion twice, one hand raised behind his back to prevent his brother from coming closer. "I realised brewing doesn't require a wand." He paused again. "I hope you worked that spell out because this was our last money."

Instead of replying, Seuthes waved a tenner in front of Russ' face.

"Where'd you get that?"

"A cash register," Seuthes smirked.

"You stole it?"

"Sure. But I only got a ten, and a few coins. They might not even notice."

By the look on Severus' face, he wasn't quite sure whether to be happy or angry. He chose the latter. "You realise this is illegal?"

"Had I succeeded, I would have broken the law by testing my spell. What's your point?"

"Well, that law is... nonsensical. And you wouldn't have harmed anyone... You could've just transfigured a note or something, why steal it?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Seuthes grinned. "But if you're so grumpy about it, I'll try that next time. Can't say I'll be able to do it. It's Transfiguration, after all."

He wasn't able to do it. Over the course of a month he left for Manchester as often as was possible, and still his only progress was a spark of light in the second half of August. The Snapes spent the 3rd of the month in quiet reflection. Severus sat by his mother's grave for nearly two hours, feeling numb and lost. The same couldn't be said for Tobias and Seuthes who, despite not wanting to have anything in common, were similar in that they both couldn't bear staying in that place longer than was needed to bring flowers.

Fourth year was framing to be worse than the ones before. Potter had got into the Quidditch team — something Snape normally wouldn't have paid much attention to, had the brat not spent every second of the following month boasting about it. And even when that had subsided, he kept on carrying that stupid Snitch, and playing with it at every possible moment.

The Slytherin was also unhappy to note that his rivals were no longer scanning every inch of the castle. And more unhappy still about the fact that every time he tried to spy on them, they seemed to be expecting him.

"I know that big nose is hard to control," Potter would say, "But keep it out of our business."

But there was a loophole. When they weren't together, they were easier to catch off guard.

Severus was still packing his things after Potions, when he noticed Potter lean closer to Lupin's ear. "Today, Moony?"

Moony? What even was 'moony'?

Lupin nodded. There was stiffness in the movement. Severus was delighted to say that the Gryffindor looked as terrified as a deer in headlight.

But that begged the question... What so frightening was going to happen today? Surely they weren't going to attack their own housemate? As much as he hated those four, Severus didn't think they were the sort to go against each other.

That night, at supper, Severus took his usual seat at the end of the Slytherin table, which was conveniently right by the door, and as the four Gryffindors passed him, he followed them out into the corridor. He'd never given it much thought, but in that moment he realised he should be grateful the Slytherin common room was two floors down and not 7 floors up.

"Hot frog!" Black crowed. The idiot. Severus knew that Gryffindor's trait was bravery, but shouting the password to your common room in front of your enemy was bordering on peabrained.

Severus had no idea how long he stood there, curled up behind a statue, or why. Had he counted the Gryffindors that passed by, he'd have realised most of them had already gone to their dormitories for the night. But he could sense that Potter and Lupin were planning something, and he was determined to find out what.

To add to his suspicions, earlier in the day while he'd been trailing Lupin, Severus had seen him sneaking into the infirmary, looking for the life of him as though it was his utmost desire not to be spotted there. And as the Slytherin was going over that memory, he heard a creak, and a loud "Where on earth are you all going?" coming from the portrait of the woman guarding the entrance.

Lupin, Black and Pettigrew had exited their common room, followed by Potter, who turned toward the portrait with one finger over his lips, "You'll be spoiling all the fun, if you give us away!"

Black clapped him on the back. "Oh, no, James, you have this wrong. It's more fun, when the stakes are high."

The four then headed toward the stairs, tiptoeing in a striking depiction of muggle cartoon characters. On any other day, had Severus seen this scene, he would've done one of two things: call for Peeves, or go straight to Filch. Today, he followed them.

For the rest of his life Severus Snape would think leaving the front gate unlocked at night the stupidest of ideas. In less than a year he would also learn that it being unlocked at present did have a reason behind it. Right now, these thoughts didn't even cross his mind.

A cold breeze hit his face, when he followed the quartet out onto the grounds a few minutes after they'd disappeared through the gate. He noticed a lone figure he recognised as Remus Lupin headed toward a tree in the distance. There was no trace of his other three tormentors.

Had Severus been out here with Lily, he would have spent the next two hours staring at the sky above with its bright moon lighting up the fluffy clouds. But his attention was at present otherwise engaged, and his eyes didn't leave the distant figure until it disappeared behind the tree.

That was when he saw a pair of feet. And it wasn't just any pair of feet, it was Potter's. His wand raised, he stared at the nothingness above the feet. Then the crack of someone stepping over a stick snapped his attention to his right, before a grating voice coming from behind made him spin around.

"It's adorable, how you're acting like a lapdog, Snivelly! Following us around and all."

He was surrounded. And there was no way out but to fight. "Petrificus Totalus!" Severus shouted, and followed it with a Conjunctivitis Curse that ended up missing its target. But while he was rolling to the side to escape one of Black's hexes, Potter managed to free the paralysed Pettigrew, and threw an Expelliarmus. Severus staggered back. With a single push Black had him on the ground, trying to deliver kicks to the Gryffindor's ankles, and failing.

His hands were tied, his legs were hurting and weighing ten times more than they ought to. His lips were glued together. And he was lying in the dirt, alone, and in direct view of what he was pretty sure were some of the professors' rooms. Some of the windows were lit. But no-one thought to poke their head out, and notice the shivering fourth-year sprawled on his back and staring with blurry eyes at the full moon above.

"Who did this?" a sharp voice demanded what must have been half an hour later. It was Avery, approaching with fast but heavy steps.

No sound came out when Severus tried to respond. A strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder, and lifted him to a sitting position, then untied his hands and undid the spell that was preventing him from speaking. Severus wasn't up to speaking yet anyway. His teeth were chattering, his knees were brought to his chest, and his arms were wrapped around his torso in an attempt to fight the cold. Something warm was placed on his back, and the shivering Snape was shocked to realise it was Avery's cloak, and he was gently being helped to his feet and guided to the castle. And what a sick reality it was that the only one helping him was a blood supremacist, while the rest of the castle was peacefully asleep, or sat awake but undisturbed in their bedrooms.