This chapter contains violence and abuse. It might be triggering for some readers.
At the edge of the ancient, dark forest stood a shabby village house, its appearance reflecting years of neglect and hardship. The stone walls, once sturdy, were crumbling in places, with patches of mortar missing and the surface mottled with grime and creeping vines. The roof was a haphazard mess of uneven, weather-beaten thatch, some areas reinforced with old boards that did little to keep out the biting December winds.
The small windows were grimy and clouded with dirt, their cracked panes allowing drafts to seep in, making the interior even more inhospitable. The door, a heavy slab of rough, splintered wood, hung slightly askew on rusted iron hinges, creaking ominously in the cold breeze.
The garden—if it could be called that—was a tangled mess of overgrown weeds and brambles, with no sign of life save for the occasional skeletal tree. A decrepit wooden fence, nearly collapsed in several places, loosely encircled the property, opening to the murky, ghostly forest beyond.
Lone snowflakes began to fall from the grey sky as a tall boy, dressed in old Muggle jeans and a thin jacket, crossed the road and opened the door. The house was dark and silent, but this was nothing new in the Lupin household. Lyall Lupin worked long hours, often returning home after midnight. Remus had suspected for a while that his father was purposefully avoiding spending too much time in the house, which held his worst memories.
The fourth-year carried his worn suitcase to his cold bedroom on the second floor. He moved slowly, trying to delay the inevitable moment when he would have to check on his mother's whereabouts. Entering the dark living room, his gaze fell upon a small, dusty portrait hanging on the wall. The round, childish face of Caelia Lupin still beamed from the black-and-white picture, where she clutched her favourite ragdoll. As always, Remus felt a tightness in his throat, as though he were being choked. In recent years, returning home had become more burdensome, and he would have given anything to join his friends in celebrating Christmas at the Potters'.
Unfortunately, the full moon was only a day away, and he could already feel violent tremors occasionally rippling through his body. Because of his cursed condition, the boy was destined to spend yet another holiday wandering through the dark woods that bordered their house. He glanced out the window at the deserted backyard, beyond which the high crowns of ancient trees loomed like dried, black hands desperately reaching for the sky. Remus remembered how much he had once admired those trees as a child, dreaming of finding a secret door at their roots that would lead to a magical world of pixies and forest spirits hidden inside the trunks. But that was before he realised that those same trees concealed unimaginable horrors.
Reflecting on that fateful night so many years ago, Remus was certain he had seen a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness of the woods, though he had dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. The next thing he remembered was the piercing, agonising pain in his shoulder and the sound of Caelia's screams. They didn't last long, but inevitably became a constant source of nightmares for the young wizard. After returning from the hospital, his life had changed forever. He had cried and begged his father not to leave him alone in the forest during the full moon, but his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.
Remus shuddered involuntarily, the memory of his first transformation flashing through his mind, causing his heart rate to spike and a bitter taste to rise in his mouth. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and stepped into the spacious yet filthy kitchen of the house. So close to the full moon, he didn't need much light—his sight was growing unusually sharp. He immediately spotted the dark figure sitting slumped on a chair behind the big, roughly-cut wooden table, her head resting on it.
"Mom?" – Remus called out hoarsely – "Are you sleeping?"
Hope Lupin slowly lifted her head, struggling to focus her bloodshot amber eyes on her son. Her clumsy, stiff movements caused a few empty bottles to topple and shatter on the floor with a loud bang.
"You've returned." – she stated quietly, her tone void of emotion – "There's not much to eat. You can catch something in the forest, can't you?"
"Not really." – Remus replied flatly, trying to ignore the thinly veiled insult from the woman who seemed to enjoy comparing him to an animal. A sad smile tugged at his lips as he realised how difficult it was becoming to recall the time when his mother had been loving and attentive.
"Well, too bad, because I doubt your dad's coming home tonight." – the woman shrugged, attempting to stand – "His job pays even less than the last one. We still haven't recovered all the gold we wasted on your school stuff."
"What do you mean, 'wasted'?" – the young wizard asked icily – "We didn't buy anything new or excessive. I'm fortunate my friends were kind enough to help me with robes…"
"Hah!" – Hope barked a sarcastic laugh – "Some friends you've got… I suppose you don't look that bad nowadays, so the rich kids might enjoy having you around as a pet. But don't get too proud—they'll run the second they find out about the evil inside you."
"Are you high again?" – Remus asked, supressing his anger. The way his mother spoke, her aggressive and abusive tone, suggested she had taken something quite strong. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his sense of smell. Immediately, he detected a sickly sweet aroma coming from a few white flowers soaking in a small cauldron near the fireplace.
"What's this?" – he asked quietly, gesturing towards the plants.
"Nothing." – the witch replied nervously, clumsily reaching for the potion before her son could get to it. In her haste, she tripped, knocking a box off the mantel. A handful of syringes and needles scattered across the filthy floor.
Silence settled heavily in the dark room. Remus stared blankly at the contents of the box, feeling a strange numbness inside.
"So, now you're using Moonshade Bloom, aren't you?" – he asked calmly – "Despite all the promises you made to come clean, to stop snorting Gleamroot Crystals. And now, you've started using something even stronger? I can see why Dad doesn't stay home for more than five minutes. Why are you such a mess?"
"How dare you talk to your mother like that?!" – the witch screamed angrily – "You know nothing about how much I suffer. I did cut back on Gleamroot, but during this time of the year, I need something to get me through. I know what I'm doing."
"Doesn't seem that way." – Remus mumbled softly, fighting back his tears – "I've told you before, let's ask for help at St. Mungo's. Maybe they have some kind of free treatment they can offer you."
"There's nothing free in this life, son." – Hope laughed grimly – "Even the things your rich pure-blood friends give you aren't free. You'll learn that soon enough. You've always been so weak, it makes me sick."
"What do you want, Mom? – the boy asked wearily – "The Light knows I don't expect any help from you or Dad. I'll spend Christmas as a beast in the woods, only to wake up confused and filthy in some cold place outside rather than safe and warm in my own bed. But somehow, you always manage to make it about you and your problems."
"What do I want?" – the woman chuckled hysterically, rocking herself back and forth – "I want my daughter back! I wish you had died instead of my little Caelia!"
Remus looked at the woman who was once his loving mother. This wasn't the first time he had heard such terrible words from her. Sometimes, he even suspected his father felt the same way. For years, he had believed that his very existence was nothing but a burden to his parents. In the past, he spent days curled up in his room, begging for some higher power to let him die. But this time, it was different. In his mind, he saw the faces of his friends—James' laughter, Sirius' jokes, Peter's constant shenanigans, and Catherine's gentle smile. It was as if their warmth enveloped him, shielding him from the darkness around him.
"I already know this." – he said firmly – "But I deserve to live just as much as Caelia did, and I'm going to make sure I do."
With that, Remus turned away and stepped out of the house, choosing to take a long walk in the fresh, untouched snow that fell softly around him.
The evening settled over Godric's Hollow, its houses resting peacefully beneath a soft blanket of snow. Snowflakes continued to drift gently from the darkening sky, adding a fresh layer to the already glistening rooftops and cobblestone streets. Quaint cottages, with their steeply pitched roofs and glowing windows, cast a warm, golden light that spilled onto the snow-covered ground, stretching long shadows across the quiet lanes. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, mingling with the crisp, cold air, carrying the comforting scent of burning wood. The streets were silent, save for the occasional crunch of footsteps as villagers hurried home, bundled against the biting chill.
At the far end of the village, a large, elegant cottage stood in quiet distinction among the simpler homes. Its smooth, cream-colored stone walls were framed by polished oak beams that gleamed softly under the lanterns lining the pathway. Small chimneys puffed wisps of colourful smoke into the evening air. Tall, leaded windows, accented with stained glass, shimmered with a warm, inviting glow from within. A wrought-iron gate led to a perfectly manicured garden, where enchanted topiaries, dusted with snow, seemed frozen in time.
Three teenagers, weary from travel, stopped in front of the house, brushing the snow from their hats and jackets. Catherine, glancing at James' home for the first time, felt immediately that it was a very happy and cozy place. Just then, the front door swung open, and a petite witch in a red robe, her black hair neatly tucked behind her ears, stepped out, beaming with delight, a wooden spoon clutched in her hand.
"My boys!" – she chirped, pulling Sirius and James into a tight embrace – "You're late! Dinner's nearly ready! Hurry inside and wash up! Give me those suitcases!"
"Mistress should come back in! Crindle will tend to the young Master and his guests! It's far too cold for the Mistress!" – a house-elf shrieked, appearing behind Mrs Potter, his large ears twitching with concern as he trailed behind her.
"Nonsense!" – the witch waved her hand, realising she was still holding the spoon – "Oh my! I forgot I had this with me. How embarrassing! You must be the infamous Catherine—dear me, you're such a tiny thing, but so pretty! I'm Euphemia, but you can call me Aunt Effie! I hope you like lamb shank with red wine sauce!"
Catherine felt a bit dizzy from the witch's rapid-fire chatter as she gave her a quick hug and whisked her inside. She caught James' apologetic smile but found she didn't mind his mum at all. The house was filled with the comforting smells of a home-cooked meal and cinnamon, instantly putting her at ease.
Mrs Potter led the girl into a spacious living room, where they were greeted by a tall wizard with grey hair and the same hazel eyes as James. He appeared to have been reading multiple books at once, as several volumes still hovered at eye level until he waved his wand to send them floating away.
"You must be Catherine!" – the wizard greeted her with a bright smile – "I'm so pleased you finally decided to visit us. I'm James' father, Fleamont. Come closer to the fire, you look cold."
"I'm fine, thank you, sir." – Catherine replied, taking off her coat – "I'm very happy to be here. Thank you for inviting me."
"James' friends are always welcome!" – Mrs Potter said warmly, taking the young witch's coat – "By the bravery of Gryffindor, don't they feed you at that school?! You're skin and bones! Come straight to the table, my dear!"
"Whuh sh'll I p' Flam's suitc'se, Mum?" – James asked, stepping into the room with Sirius, both of them lugging suitcases.
"What?" – Euphemia asked, looking confused for a moment before noticing the luggage – "Oh! In the bedroom across from yours and Sirius'. It has the best view and lovely big windows. I think you'll like it, dear. We have a smaller house in the centre of the village, but we thought it best to stay a bit further from the Muggles. There are quite a few wizarding families in Godric's Hollow, but we still need to be considerate—especially with teenage wizards and witches around."
"Especially with those two." – Mr Potter chuckled, casting an affectionate glance at the boys – "Tell me, Catherine, are you as much of a troublemaker as those sons of mine?"
"She's w'rse." – James teased, earning a raised eyebrow from his father.
What Catherine couldn't help but notice was how Sirius' face lit up when he was referred to as one of the Potters' sons. He looked so genuinely happy that she couldn't resist smiling at him.
"Actually, I've been the reason James and Sirius have gotten into trouble more than once." – the witch admitted apologetically – "It's not that I mean to cause trouble, but somehow it always seems to find me."
"I used to be like that!" – Aunt Effie giggled, waving them towards the dining room – "Come on, let's have dinner while it's still hot. The house-elf will take care of the luggage. And I'm excited to hear all about Hogwarts—and, of course, for Catherine to tell me about the girl our James fancies so much that he's keeping it a secret from his own parents!"
"Muh! Thish ish priv't!" – the protested, his voice muffled with annoyance.
"Why are you talking like that?" – Mrs Potter asked with suspicion.
"He bit his tongue stuffing himself with chocolate frogs on the Hogwarts Express." – Sirius chimed in with a laugh.
As they settled around the table, Catherine leaned towards James and whispered. "You're drawing too much attention. Try speaking normally."
"I'm trying!" - he muttered back - "But this leaf feels so weird under my tongue!"
"It's not that bad once you get used to it. – Sirius said with a shrug, already grabbing his utensils – "Just relax, mate."
"Either that or I could 'accidentally' cast a Permanent Sticking Charm to your mouth." – Catherine suggested, nearly bursting out laughing as her friend looked at her with a mixture of horror and disbelief.
It took Catherine a while to recognise her surroundings when she woke the next morning. Her room indeed had a splendid view to a snowy field, with a spring which was currently almost entirely frozen. After washing up and quietly repeating the daily chant Amato Animo Animato Animagus, the girl made her way downstairs for breakfast. James and Sirius were still asleep, and Mrs Potter was seated at the table, sipping tea and reading what looked like Witch Weekly.
"Good morning." – Catherine greeted, feeling a bit shy.
"Good morning, my dear!" – Aunt Effie beamed, immediately rising to her feet – "I hope you slept well. What would you like for breakfast?"
"I slept well, thank you." – she replied briefly recalling the vials of Dreamless Sleep Potion tucked away in her luggage. The last thing she wanted was any magical mishaps in the Potters' home – "I'll have whatever you're making—I don't want to trouble you."
"What are you saying?!" – Mrs Potter exclaimed, waving her hand dismissively – "It's no trouble at all! We're thrilled to have you here. You know, James speaks of you with so much affection. It's as if you're the sister we were never able to give him..."
Catherine caught the wistful look on Aunt Effie face and immediately sensed the emotional weight of her words. Not wanting to dwell on the subject, she quickly smiled and tried to think of something to say. "Could I have waffles with hot chocolate, then?"
James' mother's face lit up, and she hurried to the kitchen, returning shortly with a plate of the best waffles Catherine had ever tasted. Soon after, the boys emerged—James now able to speak properly, despite the Mandrake leaf still tucked in his mouth.
"James, you should show Catherine around the village after breakfast." – Euphemia suggested, placing a big tray of eggs and sausages in front of the boys – "Your dad's gone to London to pick up a few last-minute things for tomorrow, but when he gets back, we can decorate the tree. We left it on purpose so you could all help."
James nodded, too busy stuffing his face to respond properly. Catherine, used to this scene from spending so much time with four perpetually hungry teenage boys, just rolled her eyes. She glanced at Mrs Potter, who gave her an amused look, and the two shared a knowing smile.
The weather remained cold, though the snow had stopped falling. The sky was still a heavy, grim grey, but this didn't dampen the spirits of the three friends. Wrapped in hats and scarves, they strolled through the narrow, cobbled streets of Godric's Hollow. The village was small, with most of its life centred around the modest square that featured the shabby old St. Jerome's Church. There was also a pub, The Ol' English Lion, and a handful of small shops. With hardly anyone about, the teenagers enjoyed their walk, chatting freely without worrying about being overheard.
"Do you want to go check out the graveyard?" – James asked eagerly.
"Why would I want to check a graveyard?" – Catherine exclaimed, dumbfounded.
"It's pretty old." – the boy explained - "A lot of people from well-established wizarding families are buried there. Bowman Wright's tombstone is in the far corner, under the yew tree. He invented the Golden Snitch, you know?"
"Fascinating." – the girl replied, her voice not showing any fascination whatsoever – "Can we focus on the living? It's starting to feel a bit morbid."
"How about visiting Bathilda Bagshot?" – James chuckled – "She lives just down the street, and she's usually quite friendly. Always invites me in for tea."
"Isn't that the author of A History of Magic?" – Sirius asked with curiosity – "She must be a hundred years old!"
"Sounds about right!" – James chuckled – "She sometimes gets confused and thinks I'm her nephew. Calls me Gel, but I don't mind."
"I'd rather get lunch." – Sirius said, eyeing the pub – "Do they serve fish and chips there?"
"Yeah, and it's quite tasty actually." – James replied enthusiastically - "Shall we?"
"You just ate!" – Catherine groaned, trailing behind the boys.
"I'm growing." – Sirius grinned – "Besides, you'll eat too. I don't know how you keep getting thinner and thinner. You should have Madame Pomfrey look at you."
"I'm fine!" – the girl snapped, a bit annoyed – "Shall we eat inside?"
"We can, or if you prefer, we can take it to go in a doggy bag." - James suggested - "There's a small garden with a gazebo not far from here."
"Isn't it a bit cold for that?" - Catherine asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I thought you didn't feel the cold?" – Sirius teased her.
"I don't." – she replied, a touch exasperated – "But that doesn't mean I can't catch a cold or get frostbite, even if I don't feel it."
"The weather's pretty mild." - James said - "And we can always cast a warming charm in the gazebo. Plus, it's right across from Dumbledore's house."
"What?" – Sirius and Catherine exclaimed in unison.
Munching on some excellent fish and chips, the three friends spent a pleasant hour in the gazebo, which was warm and cozy, thanks to one of Catherine's spells. The black-haired girl frequently cast glances at the nearby white, three-story house, its windows tightly shut. It was clear that Dumbledore hadn't been home for quite some time. The front garden was overgrown with untamed bushes and scattered rubble, giving the entire building a ghostly, abandoned feel.
Catherine found herself wondering why her headmaster had neglected his home, letting it fall into such disrepair. Despite the many times she had poured her heart out in front of him, she realised how little she knew about the man's personal life—he was still an enigma, wrapped in layers of mystery.
"Shall we head back?" – James asked – "You look like you could use a cup of tea."
The tea was warm and strong, accompanied by a generous pile of gingerbread cookies. Mr Potter had yet to return home, so the three friends decided to spend some time in the field behind the house. What began as building a snowman quickly escalated into a full-blown snowball fight.
"I'm exhausted!" – Catherine declared, collapsing onto the thick layer of snow.
"What are you doing?" - Sirius asked, looking down at her with concern – "You're really going to get frostbite lying like that!"
"I'm making a snow angel" – the young witch grinned, sweeping her arms and legs back and forth to form the shape.
"You're so silly!" – the boy laughed, throwing himself down beside her to make a snow angel of his own.
Catherine turned her head and looked at him. Sirius smiled back, his grey eyes gleaming like silver against the snowy backdrop.
'He's so handsome.' – the girl thought, feeling her face grow uncomfortably warm in the frosty air.
"Are you happy, Flame?" – the wizard asked gently, his cold fingers brushing lightly against her flushed cheek.
"Yes." – she replied sincerely, suddenly aware of how close his face was to hers.
"That's why your guard's down!" – the boy laughed, shoving a snowball into her face before leaping to his feet and sprinting toward James, who was trying to repair their half-destroyed snowman.
'I'm such an idiot.' – Catherine thought, spitting out snow and water. With a determined grin, she sprang up from the ground and raced after Sirius, fully intent on burying him in the snow.
Sirius Black sipped from his red mug of hot cocoa as he watched Catherine, dressed in an oversized white sweater and jeans, seated on James' shoulders, carefully placing the star atop the Christmas tree. She laughed heartily, her cheeks still flushed from the cold outside, and her green eyes gleaming with delight. Sirius understood how she felt—spending her first Christmas with the Potters, she was easily swept up in the warmth and spirit of their loving home. For him, someone who usually dreaded the holidays, this was a rare, eye-opening experience—one of the happiest times of his life. And sharing it with Catherine made it all the more special.
He sighed, closing his eyes in embarrassment. He could hardly believe how much of a coward he'd been. The moment had been perfect, and he had wanted to kiss her so badly. For a fleeting second, it had even seemed like she wanted it too.
'Why did I chicken out at the last second?' – he thought angrily – 'Was I that afraid of being rejected? Or was I more scared of ruining our friendship and losing what we have?'
"Isn't it beautiful, Sirius?" – Catherine's voice startled him out of his thoughts.
"Yes, you are!" – he blurted out, immediately noticing the confused look on the girl's face and the mocking smirk on James' lips – "Oh, you mean the tree? Yes, it turned out splendidly."
"Shut up!" – Sirius growled as James elbowed him playfully on their way to dinner.
The food was plentiful and delicious, as always, and afterward, the whole family spent the evening making popcorn and chatting in front of the fire. Catherine and James' father were deep in a conversation about potion-making, which everyone else found a bit dull, but the two seemed to be enjoying themselves. By around ten, James suggested they head to his room for a sort of slumber party, where they could talk without being supervised.
"Bored with your parents already?" – Euphemia teased, winking at Catherine – "I know, I know. Go on, have fun with your friends. But don't stay up too late, or you'll sleep through opening presents tomorrow!"
Once they were settled on the thick red carpet in James' room, he gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry about them, they can be a bit much sometimes."
"I don't mind." – Catherine said, smiling.
"Neither do I." – Sirius added, rummaging through his suitcase – "Actually, I was thinking we could try to figure out how to make names appear on the map."
Catherine's good mood faltered as she glanced uneasily at the parchment lying next to her on the floor.
"It won't work this far from Hogwarts." – she noted, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"I know, but we can still brainstorm for a bit." – Sirius replied enthusiastically.
"I'm with him." - James chuckled, pulling a bottle filled with amber liquid from under his bed - "And here's a little something for inspiration. I swiped this from my dad's stash—20-year-old Beetle Berry Whiskey."
"Are you seriously planning on getting drunk?" – Catherine asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not drunk, just a sip!" - James defended himself - "Ever tried whiskey?"
"No." – the girl shrugged – "Just a bit of wine."
"Afraid you'll get tipsy and do something wild, Flame?" - Sirius grinned as he took the bottle and gulped down a large sip - "Wow! That's strong!"
"I'm not afraid." – Catherine muttered, frowning, after taking a sip herself - "I'm not sure I like this though."
"More for us!" - James chuckled, taking a sip himself - "Now, what about using the Human-Presence-Revealing Spell? Do you think that could work?"
"Theoretically." - Catherine replied uncertainly - "However, I'm not sure we can adapt it without causing conflicts with the other spells. I'd rather suggest we develop a variation of the simpler Mapping Spell. We need to modify it to map people instead of objects."
"I'm not sure how we can do that." - Sirius remarked, taking another sip of whiskey - "Where would we even begin?"
"I need to think about it." - the girl responded, folding back the parchment - "In any case, brewing the potion is our priority right now."
"You'll nail it, I'm sure!" - James said, a little too loudly, his face beginning to flush.
"Are you feeling alright?" - the young witch asked, her voice tinged with concern - "I don't think the alcohol agrees with you."
"He's fine!" - Sirius laughed, tossing the bottle back to James - "Don't be such a prude! You can't tell me you haven't been itching for a bit of freedom!"
"I have, but that doesn't mean getting drunk the second I'm left unsupervised." - Catherine shrugged.
"Oh, come on! It's just for fun!" – Sirius said nonchalantly – "It does relaxes the nerves, I can tell you! Maybe we can now play a game or something."
"I can't play chess right now!" – James suddenly yelled, causing his friends to shush him immediately.
"Merlin's beard, mate, you really can't hold your liquor!" - Sirius laughed - "How about Truth or Dare?"
"Absolutely not!" – Catherine snapped, a bit too quickly. Realising her tone, she cleared her throat and softened – "I just don't think it's a good idea when there's alcohol involved."
"Why not?" – Sirius asked with a smirk – "Afraid your first kiss might end up being on a dare?"
"Not particularly." – the girl replied calmly – "It wouldn't be my first kiss, but I still wouldn't enjoy doing such a thing. It feels… humiliating."
Sirius froze, his playful expression vanishing. "What did you say?"- he asked quietly, a wave of anger rising inside him.
"That it feels humiliating." – Catherine repeated, confused by his sudden shift.
"Not that!" – the boy snapped, his grey eyes flashing – "You've had your first kiss? With who? When? It was that prat Frank Longbottom, wasn't it?! I underestimated him!"
Catherine shot to her feet, her face flushed with anger. "What's wrong with you?" - she fired back - "I don't owe you any explanation about my love life! Who are you to keep tabs on who I kiss when half the school saw Marianne snogging you in Hogsmeade?!"
With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Sirius struck the floor with his fist, the sharp sting in his knuckles clearing his head. The warmth of the day had vanished, replaced by a searing jealousy that gnawed at him like acid.
'This has to be a nightmare!' – he thought desperately – 'I can't believe someone's going to steal her right from under my nose!'
James Potter stared at the closed door, his whiskey-fuzzed brain struggling to process what had just unfolded. They had been having fun, teasing each other, and then, out of nowhere, Catherine and Sirius were both furious. A rational part of his intoxicated mind told him he should console Sirius, who looked utterly miserable, but he wasn't sure how to do that without making things worse. Trying to push down the rising panic, James took another sip of whiskey, searching for a way to break the tense silence.
"Can you believe this?!" – Sirius finally blurted out bitterly.
"Maybe you overreacted a bit." – James suggested cautiously – "Plus, Flame's right. Marianne did kiss you in front of everyone."
"What the hell!" – Sirius shouted, his temper flaring – "You know perfectly well that Hufflepuff ambushed me!"
"She's pretty though." – James added, in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.
"I don't care!" – Sirius sulked – "What kind of maniac goes around kissing people on the street? Mistletoe or not, it's insane!"
"Was that your first kiss?" - James asked after a brief hesitation, sensing there was something deeper behind his friend's anger.
Sirius paused, his expression darkening. "No. My first kiss was the year before I got into Hogwarts. We were having Christmas lunch at my aunt's house. That bitch Bellatrix used a Full Body-Bind Curse on me and then shoved her tongue into my mouth. Said that since she'd probably end up being my wife, it was better if I got 'proper training' early on. It was the most disgusting thing that's ever happened to me, James.! And now, this… it's not like I can't take a joke, but it felt too close to that memory."
James' mouth went dry. "Mate…" - he faltered, unsure how to respond - "That's... horrible. But for what it's worth, I don't think Marianne meant any harm. She probably likes you a lot and felt she couldn't get your attention, especially with Catherine around."
Sirius sighed heavily. "I know. I'm not mad at Marianne. I get it, I give off this... image, and she probably thought I wouldn't care. But none of it matters, because Catherine doesn't care either. She's off kissing other people left and right!"
"That's not fair!" – James protested, fighting a sudden urge to throw up – "She's not like that, and you've never even seriously talked to her about your feelings. She doesn't owe you anything, least of all to save herself for you. And does a kiss really matter that much? Your first kiss was a horrible experience, but it doesn't have to define your future relationships. Honestly, all this stress is pointless. Maybe one just needs to kiss their best friend and get it over with. At least then you'd have a good memory and you wouldn't be a nervous wreck."
"What do you mean?" – Sirius asked quietly, his voice soft but laced with tension.
James glanced at him and instantly realised he'd made a serious mistake. The alcohol wasn't helping his sluggish reactions, and the look in Sirius' eyes was very threatening.
"Was it you?" - Sirius' tone remained light, but his eyes flashed with something far more dangerous - "Did you kiss her, James?"
James froze, his mind racing. He had known Sirius wouldn't handle this news well, but now he could see how close they were to a complete disaster for their friends group.
"Yes! It was spur of the moment, and it didn't mean anything!" - he blurted out, trying to sound as sincere as possible - "Look, I know you're mad, and if you want to punch me, I'll take it. But don't be angry with Catherine. It's not fair to blame her for something that was entirely my fault."
Sirius stared as James blankly. "Why are you lying to me?" – he asked with unreadable expression.
"I'm not!" – the other boy exclaimed, doing his best not to blink.
"Yes, you are." – Sirius' voice was calm but sharp – "You've got that odd habit—when you lie, you always stare without blinking."
"Nonsense." – James retorted, quickly looking away – "I told you, it meant nothing. We're just friends, as always. Let's forget about it."
"I'm absolutely certain you're lying." – Sirius smirked, but his face darkened as the pieces began to fall into place – "You lied because you thought I'd handle it better if I believed it was you she kissed… which means you know who it really was. But why go through all this trouble unless… Bloody hell… It was Remus, wasn't it?"?!"
"No!" – James groaned in frustration.
"Of course it was him!" – Sirius shouted, furious – "That's why they were acting so weird after the damn ball! Now everything makes sense!"
"Mate… it's really not that big of a deal!" – James tried to calm him – "It was Catherine who kissed him, and he turned her down, largely out of respect for your friendship, though there were other things at play."
"Am I supposed to feel better hearing that?!" – Sirius grumbled – "And on top of everything, you hid this from me! You of all people!"
"I didn't want to cause a rift between us over something that wasn't important." – James sighed, sounding exhausted.
"It's extremely important." – Sirius wasn't backing down – "How do you think I feel? Not only does Catherine prefer someone else, but my best friend doesn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Do you think I'm some spiteful wanker who's going to throw a fit? I have dignity, you know!"
With that, he stormed out of the bedroom, leaving the other boy feeling utterly drained and nauseous. James had no idea when Sirius returned, but by the time he woke up the next morning, the grey-eyed wizard was already dressed and left for breakfast without a word.
James dragged himself out of bed, fighting a pounding headache and the persistent urge to throw up in one of his mother's plant pots. When he made it downstairs, the others were busy unwrapping their presents.
"Marry Christmas, dear!" – Euphemia greeted him warmly – "Come, join us, and we'll have breakfast after!"
"I'm not that hungry." – the boy muttered, wondering if he looked as awful as he felt.
"Nasty hangover?" – Catherine mocked him with a smirk as she opened a huge box of Dragonfire Delights – "Hah! You always know what I want, Sirius!"
"It's because you always want the same thing, Flame!" – he laughed, ruffling her hair playfully.
James sighed in relief, seeing the two interact normally again. "I'm glad you're not mad." - he remarked quietly as they all sat down for breakfast.
"I'm not mad at Catherine." – Sirius said flatly, staring out the window at the bleak, grey sky – "She doesn't know how I feel about her, and maybe that's for the best. It's pretty clear the feelings aren't mutual. But Remus... that's different. He betrayed me in the most cowardly way. I don't want anything to do with him anymore. And I'd appreciate it if you kept this between us. Don't involve Flame - I've been humiliated enough."
James opened his mouth to argue but found himself at a loss for words. He glanced at the fresh snowflakes drifting down, adding to the thick blanket outside.
'How did we end up in such a mess?' – the young wizard thought desperately – 'We were having a nice time, and I thought everything about that kiss was sorted out. And if that was not enough, I feel like something crawled into my mouth and died. I swear, I'm never drinking again!'
The grey afternoon sky over Spinner's End mirrored the muddy streets and dilapidated brick houses below. The dirty river, fuller than usual for December, surged by, sweeping its murky waters along with heaps of trash. Overflowing its banks in places, it seemed to match the general neglect of one of Cokeworth's most impoverished neighbourhoods. Light was scarce, with broken streetlamps casting no glow, and few families could afford to keep their homes lit beyond what was strictly necessary.
Severus Snape sat on the windowsill of his small room on the second floor, seemingly indifferent to the cold wind blowing through the open window. In truth, it made little difference, as the house was barely warmer inside. He wore nearly every piece of clothing he owned in a desperate attempt to keep himself from freezing. Yet, somehow, the chilly air offered him a small sense of relief, a distraction from the oppressive gloom that filled the house. Despite it being Christmas Eve, there was no food in the kitchen, and his father hadn't been home for days. That absence, the boy didn't mind at all, but he could see his mother growing more weary with each passing day.
The young wizard was well-aware of the reason behind it. Tobias Snape's disappearances always ended the same way—with him returning angrier, more violent, and with less money than before. Severus had begged his mother for months to let him stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, but she had insisted he come home.
'Some home this is.' – he thought bitterly, casting a glance toward Lily's house, before letting out a deep sigh.
Although he had made certain progress, and after relentless, humiliating pleading she had begun speaking to him again, there was still a noticeable chill in her behaviour. Severus realised he was becoming increasingly desperate. He deeply regretted confronting Lily during the Halloween Ball, mostly because he'd made a fool of himself—and that prat Greg McMahon seemed completely unaffected by it. To make matters worse, the boy had a nasty suspicion that the aristocrat cared for him as much as he did for the tubeworms in Potions class. The bitter truth was that if Lily Evans had chosen to be McMahon's girlfriend, Severus Snape had no way to compete. This conclusion plagued him with sleepless nights, where he ground his teeth and fought the creeping fear that his best friend was slowly but surely slipping away from him. As Lily was the guiding light of his soul, Severus felt himself sinking into darkness, drifting in an unknown direction.
He thought about Lucius' offer. Though the last thing he wanted was to tail McMahon—it was both unpleasant and risky if he got caught—he needed the money. A small sense of pride flickered as he remembered that his potions and errands were considered valuable enough by Lucius to warrant payment. But Severus was no fool. He knew Malfoy's frequent visits to Hogwarts, under the guise of his Board of Governors work, had a far deeper purpose: recruiting followers for the rising Dark Lord. It was also true that Lucius hadn't directly asked Severus to join yet, probably due to his age—or perhaps because of his blood status, which fell short of Voldemort's purity standards.
In any case, the young wizard wasn't particularly enthusiastic about becoming a Death Eater. For one, he was too rational to fall for cult-like ideologies. While he agreed with some of the Dark Lord's ideas, they were far too extreme and self-serving for his liking. Voldemort was no Grindelwald, and Severus' interest remained limited. Besides, no matter how much support Voldemort might gather, it was highly unlikely he'd ever challenge the aristocrats. That meant Severus' immediate problem— Greg McMahon—would remain unsolved. He had no interest in torturing Muggle-borns, especially if there was nothing to gain for himself.
Sighing again, the boy stood up and shut the window. The sky was darkening, and he needed to finish his Ancient Runes homework before nightfall. With the electricity out once more and his mother still refusing to use magic, even for something as simple as light or heat, he had to work fast.
'Can she be any more ridiculous?' – Severus thought, heading downstairs to the only table in the house – 'At this point, I can't even consider her a witch anymore.'
Eileen spun around as the kitchen door creaked open, a wave of relief washing over her when she saw it was her son. She wore an old black coat over her dress, but it did little to stop her shivering. Her violet eyes seemed unnaturally large in her gaunt, pale face.
"Severus, look!" – she said with a tentative smile – "I went to the church, and they were giving away canned food. It's a shame I can't heat them up, but they're still nutritious."
"I could, if you'd let me use my wand for once." – the boy replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You know we shouldn't. Your dad doesn't like it." – she answered quietly, her eyes dropping as she began placing the tin cans in the nearly bare cupboards.
"He's not even here, for Merlin's sake!" – the Slytherin shot back, astonished by his mother's stubbornness – "Besides, I'm not hungry. I've got schoolwork to finish while there's still enough light to see the parchment."
He took out his writing supplies and set to work, his quill scratching against the paper as he tackled a translation of an epic poem about Merlin healing a village stricken by a mysterious illness that caused people to rot alive.
'I wonder if it's just a poem or if it could be sung, like Plantier did.' – the young wizard mused. He had to admit, despite his reluctance, that he had been deeply impressed by what the Gryffindor had done. He even searched for more information about singing in ancient languages in the Library, but he didn't find anything useful.
Eileen's voice broke through his thoughts. "Do you need help with your homework?" - she asked gently, adding the last pieces of wood they had into the stove.
"Not particularly." – Severus replied dryly. But after a brief moment of consideration, he decided to ask – "Have you ever heard of ancient magic being practiced through songs?"
His mother stood up, giving him an odd look. After a pause, she approached the table and glanced at his translation.
"That's not something they'd teach in your classes." – she stated matter-of-factly – "Where did you hear about it?"
"So it is a thing." – the boy muttered, taken aback by her response.
"I'm not sure about the specifics." – the witch said softly – "Your grandfather had a much broader knowledge in that area. But what I do know is that this method is incredibly complex. When you create an incantation for a ritual, you choose the right words to accomplish the task. Adding a melody on top of that is extremely challenging. The notes form a separate language of their own, and you must understand how to make them work in harmony with your words. Only a few witches and wizards possessed those skills in ancient times, and it's believed they descended from merpeople."
The room had grown so dark that Severus could barely see. He set down his quill, staring at his mother with newfound intensity. He knew she had a deep understanding of ancient magic and had taught him things about ancient runes that weren't even in books. But until now, he had assumed she was simply passionate about the subject, like he was with Potions. This was the first time she had ever mentioned his grandfather. He had asked her many times about her family, even begged to know her maiden name, but she had always remained silent.
"And what…" – he began, seizing the rare opportunity to ask about his wizarding relatives, when the kitchen door suddenly flung open, and Tobias Snape's hulking figure filled the doorway. The unmistakable stench of cheap alcohol hit Severus, making him nearly gag.
"Why's it so dark in 'ere? Are you two that lazy ya can't even be bothered t' switch t' lights on?" – the man grumbled, stumbling into the room with unsteady steps.
"They cut off our power... we couldn't pay the bill this month." – Eileen answered meekly.
"Damn bastards!" – Tobias roared, his anger flaring – "Course I can't pay! There's no good jobs an' you keep leechin' off me! When's this one gonna start makin' some money, then?"
"Severus is still too young to work." – the woman said nervously – "But he's got such good grades... he'll find a great job when he graduates."
"Great job?" – he husband sneered – "Like what? Joinin' a freak show? He's good fer nowt. Never 'ad any mates, got beat all t' time... only way 'e's gettin' near a lass is if 'e turns into one 'imself for some daft sod!"
Severus' fists clenched, his rage finally boiling over. "Even then, I'd be ten times the man you are!" - he hissed.
Tobias' eyes narrowed dangerously as he stepped toward his son. "What did ya just say, ya little bastard?" - his voice was low and menacing.
"Don't fight please!" – Eileen intervened immediately, rushing between them, holding a bowl of canned beans like a shield – "It's Christmas Eve! Severus, apologise to your father!"
"What's this, then? Some kinda minging slop?" – Tobias asked, peering into the bowl, the dim light making its contents barely visible.
"Oh! I was given some cans at the church today!" – the woman said, trying to sound cheerful – "It's not much, but it's food. We won't starve tonight."
The next moment came like a thunderclap. The sound of pottery shattering echoed through the room, followed by Eileen's sharp scream as Tobias backhanded her across the face. She staggered, crashing into the wall, the bowl lying smashed on the floor near her.
"Bloody wench!" – he roared– "Ya can't even make sure there's owt for me t' eat when I get 'ome! Why don't ya jump from somewhere! I feel sick just lookin' at ya! Ya look like me gran!"
In that moment, something snapped inside Severus. Without thinking, he grabbed a nearby chair and swung it with all his might into his father's back. The chair shattered, sending splinters flying, but the result was far from what he had hoped. Tobias grunted, turning with fury, and without hesitation, punched Severus hard in the face. The blow sent him crashing to his knees, pain shooting through his body.
Ignoring the blood pouring from his nose, the boy forced himself back up, his eyes blazing with hatred.
"At least ya know 'ow t' take a punch. Yer already better than yer mam!" – the man laughed, swinging his fist again, but this time Severus dodged and kicked his father in the shin as hard as he could.
"Ya fucking tosser!" – Tobias howled in pain, managing to grab hold of Severus' clothes and hurl him against the wall. The boy saw his father advancing, fists raised, ready to strike again. But before he could land another blow, the young wizard drew his wand, pointing it directly at his dad's face.
The man froze. Even in the dim light, his fear was unmistakable, mixed with pure disdain.
"Not so brave now, are you?" – Severus taunted, his voice icy – "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back. If you do, I can't promise you'll leave alive. I can make you feel pain like you've never imagined. Or maybe I'll slice off your arms and legs with a spell that'll make you bleed slowly for days. Don't think I won't do it. You're just a filthy Muggle, and there're girls at school who hit harder than you."
His victorious rant, however, was cut short when Tobias lunged at him with a surprising burst of speed, gripping his wrist so tightly that Severus heard the bone crack. His wand flew out of his hand, clattering across the floor. With a cruel chuckle, the man flung his son toward the kitchen sink. The boy groaned in pain, realising he had likely broken a rib. Struggling to his feet, he looked up at his father, whose face was half-shadowed by the fading light filtering through the cracked window above the sink.
In that moment, Severus knew he might not make it out alive.
Tobias grabbed a knife from the counter, swinging it toward his son with lethal intent.
Suddenly, the window above the sink shattered as a powerful gust of wind ripped through the room, sending shards of glass into Tobias' face and knocking him backward. Seizing the moment, Severus bolted for the front door, his heart pounding.
He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, finally collapsing when he reached the rickety wooden bridge that stretched over the filthy river. Gasping for breath, the young wizard clutched his side, which throbbed with sharp, unrelenting pain. It was already completely dark. The water below, usually sluggish and shallow, had swelled, its relentless currents rumbling ominously as they overflowed the banks. Debris-filled waves carried fallen branches, garbage, and silt in their wake, while the freezing air bit at his skin. Severus' laboured breaths escaped in wisps of silver mist, his body trembling in the bitter cold.
"D'ya think ya can hide from me, you little ugly bastard?" – Tobias' low chuckle cut through the silence, startling the young wizard, who was barely clinging to consciousness. The injuries he'd suffered, combined with days of hunger, made him feel faint as he struggled to rise and face his father.
"I should've done this a long time ago, ya know." – the man spat, his voice dripping with hatred – "Ya ruined my life! For a while, I thought ya were me punishment for shaggin' a clatty, clingy trollop like yer mam who's good for nowt. But nah, I were wrong. It were yer fault! Yours and yer mam's!"
Severus, panting, forced himself to speak through the fog of pain. "And what exactly is my fault? I don't have a single good memory of you. You tortured me and Mum so you could feel less of a failure."
Tobias sneered, his eyes narrowing to dark, soulless pits. "Aye, I failed alright! I failed t' have a son worthy o' me name. Instead, I ended up wi' a weakling like you. But that's a mistake that can be fixed."
He reached into his coat, pulling out a rusty, old gun, pointing it straight at Severus.
The boy stiffened, numbness creeping over his body. A part of him had always expected this. With the way his dad despised him, it felt inevitable. Would Lily mourn when she heard? His classmates would probably find it hilarious—Severus Snape, killed by a Muggle.
'Is he going to kill Mum, too?' – the young wizard wondered, the thought strangely distant – 'What's the point? I'll never accomplish anything. I can only hope to remain the Lucius Malfoy's half-blood bootlicker.'
The image of the former Slytherin flashed in Severus' mind—draped in expensive robes, casually sipping wine at Slughorn's party, with Catherine Plantier awkwardly perched on the arm of his chair.
'I can't believe the last person I'll think of is that blasted girl.' – Severus thought bitterly, as a surge of uncontrollable anger welled inside him.
Without warning, a violent gust of wind howled through the air, and a massive wave of murky water rose from the river, crashing over the bridge. Tobias, caught off guard, was hurled against the stone walls of the riverbank with a sickening force, his body tossed aside and left crumpled in the mud. Severus stood frozen, wide-eyed, staring at the mangled remains of the man who had once been his father. Blood oozed silently into the dirt, mingling with the grime as the water retreated.
"Severus!" – his mother's voice pierced the haze, pulling him back to reality. She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him away. When he finally tore his gaze from Tobias' lifeless body, Severus saw his mom crying quietly. Her lip was split, and her hair hung wildly around her face.
"I'm so sorry, my son!" – Eileen sobbed – "We need to leave. It'll be bad if the Muggle police find us here. Come, don't look at him anymore!"
She gently tugged Severus away, feeling him tremble uncontrollably. Casting one last glance back at her dead husband, Eileen looked up at the sky. For a brief moment, her violet eyes gleamed in blue as heavy snowflakes began to fall, covering the mud.
Once the mother and son had vanished into the night, a tall figure with white hair appeared, stepping out of the shadows without a sound. His fine clothing was sharply out of place against the bleak, impoverished landscape. The man stood over Tobias' body, observing it for a few moments, before disappearing once again into the darkness. The wind howled, burying the Muggle's twisted corpse beneath a fresh, pristine blanket of white snow.