Dear readers, please know that this chapter contains intense self-harming moment and it could be very triggering. Proceed at your own discretion.

* Lacrimosa - from Latin, "weeping/tearful", and in religion, part of the Catholic Requiem Mass or Mass of the dead

After finally mastering her Animagus transformation, Catherine found it much easier to harness control over her Veela powers. Perhaps her grandmother had been right—her previous unsuccessful attempts had left her body in an odd state of quantum flux, disrupting her natural instincts. Or perhaps spending extended periods in her animal form had allowed her to reconnect with those instincts more deeply. Whatever the reason, the results were undeniable. Feeling the rhythm of her movements and surrendering to the dance brought a primitive awareness of her own body—her blood coursing through her veins in a way that made her both dizzy and ecstatic. Étincelle was visibly pleased with her granddaughter's progress, and the days seemed to pass faster than the young witch had anticipated.

"Your mother sent an owl." [1] – the Veela said one evening as they sat around a crackling fire with the rest of the covenant – "It's time for you to go back. You still have much to learn, and I'm confident you can surpass your mother—no small feat, especially for one with so much human blood. But for now, I suppose school awaits you."

"Maybe I can return next year?" – Catherine asked hopefully. The prospect of leaving the sanctuary of the covenant for the noise and routine of her ordinary life unsettled her slightly.

"You should." – Étincelle replied, her voice as neutral as ever. But then, with a subtle edge, she added – "And we expect you to honour your promise to us."

"I will!" – the young witch said firmly. Then, after a moment of hesitation, her cheeks flushed crimson as she asked the question that had been gnawing at her mind since her arrival – "Grandma, since I'm only a quarter Veela, do you think I should worry about… that defence? You know, the one where men who've been with me can't love anyone else?"

Étincelle regarded her granddaughter with an unreadable expression, pausing before she answered. "It is hard to predict how our impure descendants would inherit the various aspects of a Veela's nature." – she said at last, a glimmer of pride flickering in her neon-blue eyes – "We are not meant to copulate with those lust-driven creatures, the humans. Your powers are clearly intact, and I suspect your blood is strong enough to carry our defensive magic to its full extent."

Catherine fell silent, her gaze fixed on the fire, her thoughts dark and heavy. Étincelle, noticing her granddaughter's uncharacteristic stillness, spoke again, her tone softer than before. "It must feel different for you." - she said, surprising the girl with the faint trace of compassion in her voice - "But you're probably too kind for your own good if you care this much about someone who might get cursed by being with you. If he is the one you want, should that not be a blessing?"

"Not the way I see it." – the young witch replied, her frown deepening – "Even without considering the complications of the demon I have sealed inside me, who would risk a lifetime of unhappiness if things didn't work out between us? That magic wouldn't force him to love me—it would just stop him from loving anyone else. And if he was the one I loved, I'd feel as though I'd trapped him, as if he is not with me because he wanted to stay, but because he had no choice."

The Veela tilted her head, a faint smile curling her lips. "You humans are truly confusing creatures."

"I suppose we are." – the girl admitted, her gaze shifting upward to the stars, which twinkled like scattered diamonds on the velvety black fabric of the night sky – "It's so much easier to make sense of my feelings when I'm a panther."

"Then perhaps you should spend more time as one." – Étincelle remarked, her tone unusually light. Catherine couldn't help but grin, taking it as her grandmother's first attempt at a joke.

'She does have a point.' – the young witch thought the next morning as she sprinted through the forest, her black paws skimming over the dew-soaked grass. The crispness of the air carried the faint scent of autumn, and the forest hummed with the quiet anticipation of the changing seasons. The world felt alive, fresh, and beautiful.

The panther slowed as she approached the lake's edge, her reflection rippling on the glassy surface. With a fluid motion, the transformation began, and Catherine returned to her human form, stretching to her full height. This body felt more familiar now, though the thought of flying still bothered her. It was undeniable that she was stronger than before, and—most importantly—she hadn't lost any weight, which meant she was ready to resume her training with Dumbledore. The girl tried to focus on that rather than the impending return to her peers. She couldn't help but wonder how her friends, particularly the boys, would react to her abrupt disappearance and her new look. Before leaving for France, she had sent them a brisk note explaining she'd be on vacation and unable to reply to letters. She was certain the lack of detail had worried them.

"You're early today." – Nereida's voice interrupted the witch's thoughts. She turned around and faced the red-headed half-Siren.

"I came to say goodbye." – Catherine said, noticing the shadow that crossed her friend's face. Over the past weeks, they had grown to enjoy each other's company, and she felt guilty for leaving so unexpectedly – "I have to return home and go back to school."

"I see." – the other girl sighed, her gaze dropping to the ground – "I hope you have a great time with your friends."

"Hey!" – Catherine said gently, grasping Nereida's hand and making her look up – "I'll come back. My training isn't finished yet. And more importantly, I'll write to you."

"You will?" – the half-Siren's pink eyes widened in disbelief – "I've never received a letter before! I mean, I didn't have anyone who'd write to me, but I've always wanted to!"

"Now you do." – the young witch smiled at her – "I'll send you letters through my owl, Orion. You can send your replies back with him. I'll even send you paper and a pen—wait, do you even know what a pen is?"

"Of course I do!" – Nereida said, sounding slightly offended – "I'm not stupid. I can write."

"But… how?" – Catherine asked, her brow furrowing in confusion – "Your mother was a Siren, your father a wizard—why would either of them use Muggle pens?"

"I don't know." – the other girl shrugged, clearly unwilling to elaborate – "It's just what he gave me. I didn't even know wizards used anything different."

"Fair enough." – the black-haired witch replied, though her mind lingered briefly on the mystery. Perhaps Nereida's father was Muggle-born or half-blood and maybe he simply preferred pens over quills. It struck her as odd, though, considering the half-Siren had mentioned her father being highly influential.

'Strange.' - Catherine thought, the curiosity tugging at her for a moment before she decided to let it go. She already knew how sensitive Nereida was about her family, who had exiled her here like a prisoner with no clear path to freedom.

While saying goodbye to Nereida and the Veelas proved harder than anticipated, the young witch couldn't deny she was looking forward to being back with her family. She had never been apart from them for so long; even during her time at Hogwarts, Greg had always been there, a steady presence in her life.

Her mother waited at the edge of the forest, visibly relieved when her daughter emerged from the trees.

"You look fine!" – Louisa whispered happily, pulling the girl into a tight hug.

"It wasn't as bad as I imagined." – Catherine replied with a smile – "I even made some friends and, well… I kind of enjoyed it. It was… very different."

The Duchess rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Only you and your father can find something positive in everything. Edward's motto has always been: If I'm stuck in a bad situation, I might as well make the best of it."

"Well, he does have a point." – the young witch giggled as they began walking down the road toward her grandfather's house, about a kilometre away.

When they arrived, Catherine was immediately struck by a few surprising changes. First, her father was there, apparently having spent the entire time in France—something she hadn't known was part of the plan. Second, Florian, although clearly pleased to see her, seemed unusually reserved and far more interested in Greg, who looked like he'd endured an absolutely dreadful summer. But most astonishing of all was the bizarre civility between her father and grandfather. The two men, who couldn't usually last five minutes in the same room without trading insults, were now unnervingly polite to each other.

"What happened while I was gone?" – the girl asked her brother at the first opportunity she got.

"Screams, fights, Grandpa found out I can use floral magic and now won't leave me alone, had a duel with Dad who kicked his ass—Mom found out, tore both of them a new one, and now everyone's pretending to be nice and civil." - Greg summarised with a weary expression - "And how was your 'vacation'?"

"Apparently not nearly as eventful." – Catherine replied, a twinge of disappointment in her voice at having missed the ordeal – "And since when can you use floral magic?"

Greg ignored her question, his expression softening. "I'm glad you're back, Flame." - he said sincerely - "We were all worried, but it turns out you're tougher than anyone gave you credit for."

"It seems so." – the young witch said with a smile, adding with a playful chuckle – "Though now I need to break the habit of stuffing myself with food like I did last year."

"In all fairness," - Greg smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously - "it was mostly Black and Potter stuffing food in your mouth anytime I looked your way in the Great Hall. On the other hand, I've never seen a fat Veela, so that might be… interesting."

"Even fat, I'd still be faster than you on a broom." – the girl shot back, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" – the wizard groaned dramatically, rubbing his arm – "For the record, 'quick' is usually something guys try not to be known for with girls."

"Gregory!" – Louisa's scandalised voice cut through the room, making both siblings jump.

As their mother began berating Greg—his face as red as a beetroot—Catherine took the opportunity to retreat to her room, grinning triumphantly. She spent the rest of the day luxuriating in the comforts of modern civilisation: a hot shower, her bed, and even some Muggle television.

Unfortunately, leaving the Veela's covenant meant her nightmares returned too. The young witch opted to spend the night working on summer assignments her professors had given, her focus driven by the looming start of term just a week away. With so little time left, finishing her work became an urgent priority.

The trip back home was uneventful, though far from pleasant. The airplane was packed, and turbulence rattled the cabin—a new and decidedly unpleasant experience for Catherine.

"How can you get so sick on a plane when you're such a good flyer?" – Greg teased as he handed his sister her bag when she emerged from the airport restroom, her face slightly greenish.

"It's completely different." – she muttered, her stomach still upset – "Where're Mom and Dad?"

"They've got the luggage and are waiting outside." – the boy replied, motioning toward the exit – "While you were… otherwise occupied, we decided it'd be best to stay in London tonight. Might as well use the chance to go to Diagon Alley and get our school supplies."

"Fine by me." – Catherine said with a shrug as they made their way out of the terminal – "Can you grab my stuff, too? I might not recover enough to go out."

"Ask Mom." – the wizard refused flatly – "I've got enough of my own things to carry, thanks."

"Oh, did you get your O.W.L. results?" – the girl asked, curiosity flickering across her face.

"Yeah, nine Outstandings." – Greg replied, his smug smirk poorly hidden – "Let's see how you'll top that."

"I don't need to." – the young witch chuckled – "I've already surpassed you—my letter didn't come with a Prefect badge."

"Very funny." – the boy grumbled as they climbed into the cab their parents had arranged – "Next time I give you a detention, I'll make sure it's with Professor Thorne… Ow! That hurts!"

"Can you two stop behaving like you just came out of the forest?" – Louisa snapped, her stern voice cutting through their bickering. Both teenagers froze and immediately slid apart, the unspoken threat of parental wrath making them suddenly cooperative.

"But that's literally where I came from." – Catherine muttered under her breath, causing her brother to have a sudden coughing fit as he tried to mask his laughter.

The young witch leaned her head against the car's window, her gaze fixed on the bustling streets as they inched through London's heavy traffic. The sunny skies of southern France felt like a distant memory, replaced by the oppressive grey of thick clouds hanging low despite the suffocating heat.

"It'll probably start raining soon." – the driver remarked, making casual conversation with Edward, who sat in the front seat – "Traffic's bad enough now—just wait until it starts pouring."

Suddenly, a deafening bang rocked the car, jolting its occupants. The vehicles ahead came to an abrupt stop, and people began spilling out onto the streets, pointing and shouting. The McMahons followed suit, stepping out of the cab. Catherine's eyes were immediately drawn to the pillars of dark smoke rising from the other side of the river. The chaotic symphony of panicked screams and distant sirens filled the air.

"Blimey!" – the driver exclaimed, his face pale with shock – "What on earth's happened there?!"

"It seems to be coming from the docks." – Edward said grimly, scanning the scene – "Do they store weapons or flammable materials there? It's reckless to keep anything dangerous practically in the city."

"They certainly shouldn't!" – the other man replied, shaking his head in dismay – "I just hope no one was nearby. It's always the poor workers who suffer when something like this happens. But what could cause such a mess? Fireworks, perhaps? Look at that! What a bloody joke, eh, Sir?"

Catherine's gaze shifted upward, her stomach tightening as she spotted the ominous shape looming in the sky. Against the backdrop of brooding clouds, a massive skull shimmered with emerald-green light, a serpent slithering from its mouth, resembling a grotesque tongue. It glittered like a constellation of tiny, glowing stars, and though she wasn't an expert, the young witch was certain this was no Muggle pyrotechnic display.

[1] The conversation is held in French.

Severus Snape hesitantly entered the kitchen, unease prickling at him as he wondered what state he would find his mother in. Since that strange trip to the graveyard, Eileen had been, for lack of a better term, a total wreck. Days of relentless sobbing alternated with stretches of eerie silence and complete detachment.

The boy had tried, more than once, to ask her what was wrong, but she always shook her head and muttered that she'd be fine. When no improvement came, Severus's patience wore thin. Frustrated, he stopped asking altogether, retreating into his own solitude. If he could manage to pull himself together, he reasoned, then surely an adult witch should be able to do the same. Yet, as the days passed, it became clear she couldn't—or wouldn't.

Eileen was sitting by the window, her thin frame taut with tension, like a wire stretched to the point of snapping. Her vacant gaze was fixed outside, though it was unclear whether she even saw the view. Severus cleared his throat, and the sound made her flinch violently, her eyes darting to him wide with fear.

Suppressing a groan, the young wizard decided to cut straight to the point—he had already put this off long enough. "I have to buy school supplies and new books." - he said flatly - "I've got some gold saved, but it's not enough. What can we afford right now?"

It took a long moment for Eileen to process his words, as though they were cutting through a thick fog. Eventually, she opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a tiny, battered purse, handing it to him with trembling fingers. Severus inspected its contents and scoffed, his irritation bubbling over.

"I'll go to Diagon Alley with the Evans tomorrow." – he informed her, slipping the meagre coins back into the purse – "If it's all the same to you, I'll stay with one of my former housemates after that. He invited me ages ago, and since his sister goes to Hogwarts too, he'll take us both to King's Cross."

"Would that really be alright?" – Eileen asked hesitantly, her voice thin and strained, as though she was grasping for clarity amid her turmoil.

"Yes." – the young wizard replied firmly – "Lucius has always been kind and generous to me. And let's be honest, there's no wizarding family more respected than the Malfoys."

"No!" – the word exploded from Eileen as she slammed both hands on the table. Her face twisted into a mask of pain, determination, and something that looked startlingly like fury—an emotion Severus had never seen in her before.

"What do you mean, no?" – he asked, genuinely baffled by her outburst.

"You are not setting foot in any place the Malfoys call home." – she nearly screeched, her voice trembling with intensity – "And it would be best if you stopped interacting with them entirely."

"Are you mental?" – Severus shouted back, red blotches flaring on his pale face – "Lucius was the only person in Slytherin who treated me like a human being! He's helped me countless times, including finding work so I could afford basic things. Do you have any idea how much I owe him? I won't abandon him just because you have some grudge against his family!"

"Do as you wish," - Eileen said coldly, her tone sharp with resolve - "but no son of mine is going anywhere near Malfoy Manor. If you dare defy me, I'll inform the Ministry that you've run away from home, and they'll bring you straight back. Don't think I won't follow through."

"You're an absolute excuse for a witch and a mother!" – the boy yelled, his black eyes blazing with rage – "What have I ever done to make you so determined to ruin my life? Fine! I won't go! I'll ask Lily if her family can take me back tomorrow. I wish you were gone! Maybe someone from the family you keep hiding would actually take care of me!"

With that, he stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Eileen sat frozen, tears streaming down her pale cheeks in torrents, her violet eyes filled with anguish as she stared at the empty doorway.

"Tuney! Wait!" – Lily Evans called after her older sister, finally catching up to her at the empty playground a few blocks away from their house.

"Why are you following me?" – Petunia snapped, her voice sharp with anger as she glared at her sister's emerald-green eyes, now full of confusion and hurt.

"I wanted to apologise!" – the red-headed girl said softly – "I had to describe the properties of moonstone for my Potions assignment, and I wanted to see how it reacted when mixed with moly. I didn't expect it to make such a loud bang! It was just the sound, I swear—it's not dangerous!"

"I don't want to hear about your bloody school or what you do there!" – Petunia hissed through clenched teeth – "Can't you just be normal for one day? Isn't it enough that you show off in front of Mum and Dad? Now you have to do it in front of my friends, too! You just want them to know how 'special' you are!"

"That's not true!" – Lily cried out, her tone cracking as she fought back tears – "It was an accident, I told you! Come back, and we'll explain it away—say I'm studying chemistry or something! There's no need to bring Hogwarts into this!"

For a moment, the older girl hesitated. But then her pale eyes narrowed, glinting with contempt. "Like you could ever hide what a freak you are. You and your kind should be locked away, somewhere far from normal folk!"

"You're the one who should be locked away!" – Severus Snape's voice cut through the air, making Lily spin around to face him. Her shoulders slumped as she gave him an exhausted look.

"This is ridiculous!" – the red-headed witch protested – "Muggles and wizards can live perfectly well next to each other. Don't even start, Sev!"

"I don't need to start anything with the likes of her." – the boy said coolly, his black eyes flicking to Petunia with disdain – "She's so jealous of us, she can barely keep it together."

"Me? Jealous?" – Petunia shrieked – "Why would I ever want to be like either of you? Her pockets are always full of disgusting junk like dragon manure or rat brains, and you, Severus Snape, stink! Not to mention you look like you're homeless. I can't believe you're coming with us to London tomorrow. We'll need to clean the car after you."

"Sev, no!" – Lily pleaded, stepping between her friend and her sister as Severus's black eyes narrowed dangerously. She grabbed his hand, pulling him back before he could retaliate – "Come on, let's just go to our place."

The two teenagers walked in tense silence until they reached a small thicket of trees. The usually glittering stream that ran through the trunks was now dried up, but the shade offered a cool reprieve. They sank onto the yellowing grass, letting the quiet wash over them for a moment.

"Have you cooled down yet?" – Lily asked, glancing at the wizard beside her.

"It's one of those days when everyone seems determined to push my buttons." – Severus sighed, stretching his long, thin frame on the grass as he stared up at the sky – "I don't understand why you let Muggles bullying you like that."

"Petunia is my sister, and she's not bullying me." – the girl insisted, her cheeks flushing slightly – "It was my fault—I ruined her friends' visit. I didn't mean to, but I was trying to come up with something original for Slughorn's essay and ended up mixing powdered moonstone with moly."

"Oh, that's loud." – the young wizard remarked, smirking – "You know, if you soak the moonstone in plain water for a few hours before crushing it, you can avoid sudden reactions—even when mixing it with moly."

"That's why you're a Potions genius, and the rest of us are stuck reading the books." - Lily said with a grin. Severus's heart swelled with pride at her praise.

"It's nothing that complicated." – he replied, trying to sound modest but failing to hide his satisfaction – "You just have to be bold and creative with these things. It's like coming up with your own spells."

"I never figured out how to do that." – Lily admitted, chuckling - "It's kind of discouraging, you know? Between you and Catherine, I feel like a complete idiot."

"You're not an idiot. You're the smartest witch I know." – Severus said immediately, his tone earnest. But his expression darkened as he added – "And why do you always have to bring up her?"

"She's my friend, and I think it's long overdue for you two to start acting like adults." – the girl replied, ignoring Severus's eye roll - "You can't keep being so condescending to everyone, Sev. Since Malfoy graduated, you're left with no friends but me. I know people would like you if you let them. And I'm not talking about people like Lestrange or Mulciber—they're horrible—but there are plenty of others you might actually enjoy spending time with. Rowan Fawcett from Ravenclaw is great at Potions, Edgar Bones from Hufflepuff loves alchemy, and Catherine—"

"Would you just stop already?!" – the wizard jumping to his feet. His pale face flushed with angry red splotches – "Am I some kind of charity case for you? I feel like a stray dog you're trying to rehome! I don't need friends, Lily. All I need is you! Why can't you understand that?"

Lily's face turned crimson as she looked away, avoiding his intense gaze. She had always suspected his feelings, but facing them would change everything between them. And no matter how deeply she cared for Severus as a friend, she couldn't see him as anything more. The harder he tried to claim her heart, the more uncomfortable their time together became. It made her feel guilty, as if her presence alone was giving false hope.

"I want you to be happy, Sev." – Lily said softly, her voice trembling – "It's not fair that people treat you the way they do, but shutting everyone out doesn't help. You build walls so high that no one can get through. You know I'll have less time this year with Prefect duties and preparing for the O.W.L.s, and I can't help but worry about you."

"You don't have to." – the boy said distantly, turning his back to her.

"That's what friends do." – Lily muttered, a teasing smile breaking through – "Maybe I should give you detention so we can spend more time together."

Severus turned back to her, his expression unreadable, though a smirk eventually tugged at his lips. "Already abusing your power? I told you the Sorting Hat made a mistake putting you in Gryffindor."

"Sure," – Lily laughed – "Because I'd love sharing a dorm with Tullia Parkinson and Volumnia Travers. Such delightful company."

"Better than Mary MacDonald, who doesn't say a word, Gwyneth Jones, who doesn't stop yapping, and Plantier, who's an absolute nightmare." - Severus retorted with a scoff - "Can't imagine waking up to her ugly face every morning."

"You really need to update your insults." – the witch quipped, a mischievous glint in her eye that made the boy pause.

"What's that supposed to mean?" - he asked warily, instantly suspicious. He hated it when she kept things from him.

"Oh, nothing." - Lily replied breezily, suppressing a grin as she thought of Catherine's surprising last letter - "Just saying, it's a bit hypocritical to complain about her insulting your looks when you do the exact same thing. Honestly, I've given up. You're both hopeless. Just stop dragging me into your fights."

"I'm sorry." – Severus muttered, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere – "I actually came to ask something. My mother decided I wasn't miserable enough and forbade me from spending the rest of the week with Lucius. So… I wanted to know if I could come back to Cokeworth with you tomorrow?"

"Oh!" - Lily exclaimed, genuinely surprised. She had never met Mrs. Snape—Severus had gone out of his way to keep her far from his family and the gloom of Spinner's End. Still, she was puzzled that his mother, a pure-blood, would have an issue with him associating with a wealthy and powerful family like the Malfoys - "Yes, of course you can come back with us. Just a heads-up—we're not planning to stay in London long. I don't know if you've heard about yesterday's explosions, but apparently, a lot of people were killed, and no one knows why. I wonder if it had anything to do with wizards. Should've subscribed to the Daily Prophet! In any case, Dad's worried, so he wants us to get what we need and leave quickly. Does that work for you?"

"I don't have much of a choice, so yes." – Severus replied with a shrug, showing little concern for the news of the Muggle deaths – "Shall I be at your house around seven, then?"

"That would be best." – the girl agreed with a nod - "I wish we had more time. These summers away from the wizarding world feel harder every year."

"I know." – the young wizard sighed – "But at least we have each other. And soon enough, we'll be back at Hogwarts."

"Can't wait!" – Lily grinned, her eyes lighting up – "You know what? To make up for tomorrow, I'll treat you to a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks when we visit Hogsmeade. Since we're fifth-years now, we can go every month! Isn't that great? So, how about it?"

"Alright." – Severus said, a small, almost shy smile forming. The thought of being alone with Lily in Hogsmeade felt as close to a date as he could imagine. For a fleeting moment, life didn't seem so bad after all.

Severus woke early the next morning. He washed quickly, dressed, and applied a touch of the cologne Lucius had gifted him—a luxury he used sparingly. After ensuring the little gold he owned was securely tucked in the inner pocket of his jacket, he headed downstairs, hoping to grab a cup of tea before leaving for London.

To his surprise, not only was a steaming cup waiting for him, but also a plate of scrambled eggs and a few slices of toast. His mother stood at the sink, washing a pan and softly humming an unfamiliar tune. Severus paused in the doorway, his brows knitting together at the uncharacteristic scene before cautiously taking a seat at the table.

"Good morning." – he greeted hesitantly. After their heated argument the previous day, they hadn't spoken, and truthfully, the boy felt a twinge of guilt for some of the things he had said—even though he still believed he should have been allowed to visit Lucius.

"Good morning, my son." – Eileen replied with a small, gentle smile – "Eat quickly before you go. The trip to London isn't short."

Severus nodded and began eating, his puzzlement growing with every bite. Her cheerful demeanour was so unlike her usual despondency that he felt uneasy. But, deciding this mood was a welcome improvement, he chose not to question it. Once he finished, he cleaned the table quickly and was about to leave when the witch called him back.

"Severus," – she said, pulling a small bag from her pocket – "Before you go, I wanted to give you this. It's something I enjoyed quite a bit during my school days, and I thought you might as well."

Curious, the boy opened the bag to reveal a set of gobstones, their polished marble surfaces gleaming softly. Each was etched with clean, elegant patterns, giving the set a certain simplistic charm.

"Thanks." – he muttered curtly, setting the bag back on the table – "I have to go now."

"Take care." – Eileen said as she walked with him to the front door – "You'll be careful, won't you?"

"I will." – Severus replied, stepping past her.

"Of course you will," - she added with an unexpected laugh. Her violet eyes shone brightly, filled with a liveliness Severus had never seen before - "My smart, handsome boy."

The young wizard walked briskly toward Lily's house, his thoughts churning. 'What's up with her?' - he wondered, a knot of concern tightening in his chest - 'Could she be on some sort of drugs? Moonshade bloom is potent, but Gleamroot crystals could also cause euphoria. I'll need to search the house when I get back.'

Setting his worries aside, Severus thoroughly enjoyed the trip with his best friend and her family. The highlight was that Petunia had refused to join them, likely still furious about the previous day. He didn't miss her one bit. Even though Mr. Evans was intent on getting their school supplies quickly and leaving as soon as possible, they managed to have a pleasant time. To the boy's surprise, Mr. Evans even bought them ice cream cones at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. He chose salted caramel with pecans, while Lily opted for vanilla with strawberries.

They visited several shops, picking up additional Potions supplies, parchment, and their books. Most of Severus's were second-hand, but Lily didn't mention it, and for that, he was quietly grateful. She also purchased new robes, and the two bumped into several Hogwarts students along the way. When Lavinia Nott spotted Severus, her face turned pale, and she hurried into the nearest shop without so much as a glance at the Gryffindor.

"You've definitely made her scared of you." – Lily remarked, her voice devoid of sympathy for the Slytherin girl.

"Then my mission was successful." – the wizard replied with a smug grin – "She'll learn to stay away from you."

"Thank you," – the girl said, her cheeks tinged pink - "but honestly, there was no need for you to do that."

"I'll always protect you." – Severus said flatly – "No matter who threatens you."

"Oh, Merlin!" – Lily exclaimed suddenly, pointing to a stand outside Flourish and Blotts. Several copies of the Daily Prophet were arranged neatly, each front page showing the same moving photograph: a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth, hovering ominously over London's skyline.

Grabbing a copy, the witch scanned the headline and read intently for a few minutes. Her expression darkened as she reached the end.

"I knew it." – she said grimly, closing the paper with a snap – "Voldemort and his followers killed all those Muggles. Nobody even knows why—just pointless violence to show off his power and the lack of any repercussions! What's next? Trying to conquer Hogwarts?!"

Severus opened his mouth, intending to say something to ease her anger, but their conversation was cut short by a sharp voice from the newspaper vendor. "If you're not buying, leave the paper alone! This isn't a library!"

Startled, they put the paper back and left the stall. Lily's cheerful mood had evaporated, and the rest of their errands passed in silence. They soon rejoined Mr. Evans and headed home. By the time they arrived back in Cokeworth, it was late afternoon.

Severus declined the Evans family's kind offer to drive him home. The last thing he wanted was for Lily to see Spinner's End in all its grim reality, with drunks loitering on street corners and broken streetlamps casting eerie shadows.

The sky was dimming as he made his way through the dusty streets of Cokeworth's worst neighbourhood. By the time he reached his front door, it was nearly dark. Dropping his heavy bags in the corridor, the boy noted the unsettling silence that greeted him. The house was utterly still.

Thirsty from the long walk, he headed straight for the kitchen, hoping for a glass of water after trudging through the oppressive heat and dust.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Severus froze, his hand hovering over the door's handle. The house was unnervingly quiet, save for the faint drip of a leaking pipe and the occasional creak of floorboards swollen from the summer heat. The sharp, artificial lavender scent of mothballs—his mother's go-to for protecting her clients' clothes—seemed cloyingly potent tonight, as though trying to mask something far worse.

For years to come, the most vivid memory of this moment would be the old, shabby wooden chair—the very one he'd sat on that morning—tipped over on its side. It felt as if he stared at it for hours, the image burning into his mind, before he finally took in the full scope of the scene.

The sequence of events became an incoherent blur in Severus's mind, fragmented and distorted. Someone was screaming—a raw, guttural sound—but it wasn't Eileen. She hung lifelessly from a rope in the centre of the room, her thin frame swaying slightly, like a grotesque marionette in an unfinished puppet show. Her hands hung limp at her sides, and the expensive purple dress she wore seemed absurdly out of place. Her face, ghostly white with bluish lips, bore the unmistakable marks of pain and struggle. Yet her eyes were closed—not by chance, but as if she had willed it, shielding her son from the torment of meeting her unseeing gaze.

Severus felt detached from his own body, watching as though from a distance as the tall, lanky teenager with greasy black hair staggered forward, desperately trying to cut the woman down. His trembling hands couldn't manage it. A wave of nausea almost knocked him over, and he gripped the table for support. That was when his eyes fell on it—a piece of parchment pinned beneath the bag of gobstones he'd left there earlier. Beside it sat a small glass sphere filled with a swirling silver mist.

His shaking hands reached for the note. In the dim light of the dying day, he could just make out his mother's familiar, delicate handwriting:

My dear son,

I know you're probably furious with me now, and in the end, you were right: I was a coward and a terrible mother to you. But don't blame yourself—nothing could be further from the truth. I have felt like my life has always been borrowed, and now my past has finally caught up with me. This is something I can't cope with anymore. I did try, Severus, and I did fight. But I lack your willpower, your strength, and your resilience.

I believe your life will be better without me. I trust your grandfather will give you what I never could. I know you are destined for greatness, but please, my son, seek your own happiness too. That is my only regret—that I won't be here to see you happy.

I hope that one day, you can forgive me.

With all my love,
Your Mother

"Love?!" – Severus yelled, his voice cracking under the weight of his rage – "Why would you do this? Bloody coward! Why didn't you talk to me? At least once! Why did you leave me alone?"

With a furious sweep of his arm, he cleared the table, sending everything crashing to the floor. The gobstones scattered noisily across the kitchen, and the glass sphere shattered, the fog inside escaping with an angry hiss. The sudden silence that followed was deafening, broken only by Severus's ragged breathing.

A loud pop shattered the stillness, the unmistakable sound of someone Apparating just outside the back door. The boy's head snapped up, his black eyes narrowing as the door opened, revealing an older man dressed in impeccably tailored Muggle clothing. The stranger hesitated in the doorway, his face etched with confusion, but the moment lasted only seconds.

The man's expression contorted into pure agony as he let out a howl of despair. In two swift strides, he reached Eileen's lifeless body, still hanging from the ceiling. The young wizard watched, stunned, as the man drew his wand and lowered her to the ground. Dropping to his knees, he cradled her in his arms, calling her name in a voice so tender, so raw with pain, that it made Severus's chest tighten.

The air in the room seemed to shift, heavy with magical power. The man wasted no time, casting spell after spell, his movements a mix of frantic wand work and intricate hand gestures. Severus thought he recognised the echo of Ancient Magic in the stranger's incantations, but nothing worked. Eileen's body shook violently under the force of the spells, the walls of the house trembling with the strain, but no magic could bring the dead back to life.

The boy's stomach turned as he realised that if this continued, there would soon be no body left to bury. He reached for his wand, his hand trembling with fury and confusion, and pointed it at the man.

"Expelliarmus!" – he whispered hoarsely, and the stranger's wand flew from his hand, clattering across the floor.

Only then did the man seem to notice that he wasn't alone. His tortured gaze met Severus', and the boy's breath caught in his throat. Even in the dim light, the man's eyes—those striking, unusual violet eyes—were the same as his mother's.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" – Severus asked, his wand fixed firmly on the stranger.

Dear readers, first, I'd like to thank you for the support and your continuous interest in the story. This was a very hard chapter to write. It's never easy to hurt your characters so deeply (even though technically of course, most of them belong to JKR). Was it necessary? Yes. Was it heartbreaking? Absolutely. I also can't stress enough how important mental health is and recognising certain symptoms in yourself or people around you can save lives. There's always help available if you just reach out.

This being said, I'm looking forward to embark with you on a journey through year five. You can expect your fair share of teenage drama, some (relatively for now) steamy content and many pieces of the puzzle starting falling together. Also, true to the original series, we're getting darker and darker with the Voldemort acting openly.

And just to spice your appetite, the title of the next chapter is: Green-Eyed Girl ;)

Thank you once again,

~Sailea~